Chapter 19
Today has been a ton of work and so much fun. We’re all so excited about this cocktail party, and I have to say, the whole bar here at the resort looks amazing. I knew that they’d let us use the space, especially since the women gathered here aren’t shy about ordering drinks and food. I’ve set out little bouquets of pink, red, and yellow dahlias and ranunculus on all eighteen of the four-top tables scattered around the room and on the end of the bar. Twinkle lights are strung around the room, and we have an amazing view of the ski runs—still without snow—and a good part of Bitterroot Valley, since the bar sits up high.
“These flowers are gorgeous,” Charlie Lexington says with a grin. “So bright and fun. A great way to cheer up a dreary fall day.”
“Thanks. You know, it’s a misconception that fall flowers have to be drab and boring. I don’t know what I’ll do with them later. I hate to throw them away.”
She turns shrewd brown eyes my way. “I have an elopement tomorrow, and they didn’t plan for flowers. Could I buy these from you?”
“Of course. I’ll give you a steal of a deal, and I’ll even take them back to the shop tonight and put them in the cooler so they’re fresh for tomorrow.”
“Now you’re going to make me cry.” Charlie grins at me and nudges my shoulder with hers as we gaze around the full room. More women than we expected came out for our first party, and I’m relieved that so many people are excited. “I love this whole idea, by the way. The lifting up women in business idea. It’s not easy being a business owner, and I can’t wait to trade ideas with everyone.”
“Networking is highly underrated,” I reply with a nod. “There’s room for everyone to do well.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She lifts her flute of bubbly champagne and clinks it to mine just as Billie Blackwell joins us, a huge grin on her pretty face. “Hey, Billie.”
“Hi.” Billie shuffles self-consciously as Millie also walks over to join us. “I appreciate you including me tonight. I don’t own my own business. Yet.”
“Are you thinking of starting one?” Millie asks.
“Well, yeah. I was telling Brooks about it the other day, and he suggested I come to this tonight. I hadn’t even heard about it because I hate social media, and I’m so glad my brother mentioned it because you have London Ambrose speaking.”
“I can’t wait to hear her,” Millie agrees.
“What kind of business are you planning to start?” I ask Billie.
“Oh, a bookstore.” She smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll call it Billie’s Books, I think. Maybe Blackwell Books.”
“You could go for Double B Books, after your family’s ranch,” Millie suggests, but then shakes her head. “No. Call it Billie’s Books. Make it about you. It’s your vision.”
“I agree,” I add. “Also, I’ll be your first customer.”
“You know,” Millie says, tapping her chin in thought. “I have it on good authority that the business next to the coffee shop might be going out of business soon. What’s more perfect than a coffee shop and a bookstore, right next to each other?”
Billie’s eyes light up in excitement, and I see Erin gesturing for me to join her from across the room.
“Excuse me, ladies. You keep talking about this because it’s brilliant. I have to run over this way.” I cross to where Erin’s standing with London. “Hey, London, thank you for coming.”
“Oh, it’s completely my pleasure. Thanks for inviting me. I didn’t really prepare a speech, because I thought I would just give a little background on myself and then take questions. Is that okay?”
“Works great for me,” I assure her as Polly rushes over to join us.
“We’re ready when you are,” Polly announces.
“I’m ready,” London says and straightens her gray Chanel jacket. “Let’s inspire some women, friends.”
“May I have your attention?” Polly calls out, and the room immediately quiets. “Please, take your seats, and we will get started.”
There’s shuffling and some chatter as the women grab their seats. I see that Marion, the former owner of the coffee shop, is here. We have massage therapists and real estate agents and attorneys in attendance.
Abbi is almost vibrating with excitement as we join Polly.
“Thank you all for coming to our first Iconic Women’s Collective event,” Polly says, and we all smile as everyone erupts in applause. “I’m Polly Allen, the owner of Pocket Full of Polly, and I’m one of the five creators of this amazing collective.”
“I’m Summer Quinn,” I continue. “I own Paula’s Posey’s.”
“You may not have heard,” Millie picks up the introduction torch, “but I recently bought Bitterroot Valley Coffee Co from Marion. Oh, and I’m Millie Wild.”
“Hi, everyone,” Abbi says with a wave. “I’m Abbi Kastella. I own Bitterroot Valley Housekeeping Services.”
“And she’s an angel,” Charlie calls out. “My house has never been cleaner.”
“I need your number,” someone else calls, making Abbi grin.
“I happen to have business cards with me,” she says. “Hit me up later.”
“You should,” Erin says with a nod. “And last but not least, I’m Erin Wild. I’m a bookkeeper, and I’m in the process of getting our event space up and running out at Wild River Ranch. The five of us were having drinks together not too long ago, and with the courage of a little tequila, we decided that there is a need in our community to work together to build up other women entrepreneurs.”
“Agreed,” I put in as the others around the room nod. “I’m so tired of society telling us that we should be in competition with each other. Since when? There’s room at the table for all of us.”
“We all have strengths and weaknesses,” Polly continues. “And this is a wonderful way for us to network and help each other. The five of us are open books, and we’re happy to discuss just about everything.”
“Our goal is to bring in amazing guest speakers to talk to us as a group about what has worked for them or what hasn’t. To tell us their stories.” I smile over at London and gesture for her to join us. “At this inaugural meeting, I’m so delighted to introduce a powerhouse of a woman to all of you, London Ambrose-Montgomery. In case any of you have been living under a rock, London is the co-owner of Seattle’s professional football team, she owns a podcast, an amazing clothing boutique in New York, and does so much more than I can run down for you here. So, without further ado, please welcome London Ambrose-Montgomery.”
The five of us take our seats, mixed in with the other ladies in the audience, and for the next half hour, we listen raptly as London tells us all about her childhood, where she comes from, and how it was important to her to set herself apart from her billionaire father. To make her own way in business.
I have to check with Libby, the manager of the bar, to make sure we’re okay to run over our allotted time because there’s no sign of anyone wanting to leave by 8:00 p.m.
In fact, London is still answering questions at nine, and I step in to save her.
“Let’s give London the chance to catch her breath,” I suggest and pass the woman a glass of wine. “I suspect that we’ll be able to talk her into coming back another time to speak with us again.”
“You got it,” London confirms after sipping her wine. “I have a condo here at the resort, and I would love to come back. I’d also like to speak with some of you individually. Based on what I’ve heard, you all have some incredible business ideas.”
I move off to the side with her and hug her tightly.
“Thank you.” I hold her hands in mine. “You’re welcome every month, if you want to come, and we won’t make you be a speaker. Just come for fun.”
“OMG, do it!” Erin hops on her toes with excitement. “Bring all the girl cousins with you. Okay, maybe that’s a bit aggressive, but you know what I mean.”
“I’ll take you up on coming often,” London promises. “And you know as well as I do that many of the cousins are entrepreneurs. I’ll bring them.”
“Excuse me,” Stephanie Miller, a local photographer, says with a shy smile. “I know you have to be tired after we all railed you with questions, but, London, do you mind if I pick your brain for a few minutes?”
“Of course not. Stephanie, right?”
The two walk off to talk in a quiet corner, and I turn to my cohorts with a grin. “This was a huge success.”
“And it’s just the beginning,” Millie reminds me. “We need to do this every month, like you said. We can do themes and poll the women to find out what they want to learn more about. We can do workshops, too.”
“I’m so glad it worked,” Abbi says with a relieved sigh. “Everyone had fun, the bar had a good amount of business, and London rocked it.”
“She really did,” Erin says with a proud nod. “She’s awesome.”
With Pollyand I being the last to leave, we walk to our cars parked just outside of the bar.
“I’ll see you later,” she says with a tired wave. “I’m going to go sleep for about a week now. You’d think we’ve just partied all night long.”
“I know. Instead, we stayed up past our bedtime, talking business with some super-smart girls.”
Polly’s grin is wide and smug. “It was awesome.”
I get in my car, and before I leave, I shoot Chase a text. I’ve been in contact with him throughout the evening, especially when I realized we’d be here much later than we first thought.
Me: We’re done here! I’m going to drop these flowers off at the shop so they stay cold. Charlie wants them for a wedding tomorrow. Then I’ll be home.
The three dots bounce on my screen as Chase types out his reply.
Chase: Just drive safely. Need anything?
I grin at the question. That’s Chase, always ready to make sure I’m taken care of.
Me: No, I’m good. I had food. Can’t wait to tell you all about it!
Chase hearts my message, and I start the car and head back into the heart of downtown, which isn’t very far. I would usually park in the alley, behind the shop, to unload my car, but it’s dark, and I don’t like being back there by myself after dark. Even in Bitterroot Valley.
So, I pull up to a stop at the curb out front and unlock the door first, move to disable the alarm, and then realize that it’s not set. With a frown, I stare at the keypad. I could have sworn I set it when I left earlier.
Shrugging, I return to the car and grab four bouquets at a time, transferring them from my vehicle and into the walk-in cooler of my floral shop. When I’ve moved the last few bouquets, I pause and sniff the air. Something smells…hot.
“Smoke,” I mutter with a scowl as I round the glass counter toward the back room, and then I see the haze of smoke in the air. “Oh, shit. There’s a fire.”
I run back to the sink and fill up a pitcher, but when I round the corner again, I see flames reaching up to the ceiling, and I know my little pitcher of water isn’t going to do the trick.
“Oh, shit. Oh, Jesus.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm down, but all that does is make me cough as I pull my phone out of my pocket and call 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
“Fire,” I cry out. “My shop is on fire. Paula’s Posey’s.”
“Are you inside, ma’am?”
“Yes.” Panic fills my chest as I watch the flames grow. “Oh, God, it’s spreading.”
“I need you to get out of that building. We have trucks on the way, along with law enforcement, but you have to get out right now. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” I hurry away, back to the front of the shop, but I don’t want to leave. “Isn’t there something I can do? This is my aunt’s legacy. It’s all I have.”
“You can get out of the building, ma’am. Do you hear the trucks?”
I push through the glass door and breathe in the clean air. “Yes, I hear them.”
“They see you,” she says. “Are you okay if I hang up now?”
“Yes, yes, okay.”
I lower the phone and feel almost numb as the firetrucks pull up, along with several police cars. Has anyone called Chase? Will he come?
Shoving my phone into my purse, I turn and gasp. The flames are already in the front of the store, licking against the glass.
“You can’t be here,” someone yells at me, pulling me away, into the middle of the street. “Those windows will explode.”
Sure enough, there’s a loud crash, and glass rains down around us. I cover my face and shriek, and I’m passed to someone else.
“Summer?” I look up into a familiar face. “My God, Summer, are you okay?”
“Evan?” I swallow, and my throat feels hoarse and sore. “Evan, my shop. Your office! Oh God, how did this happen?”
“Hey, come on. Let’s get out of the way.”
He leads me fully across the street and down just a bit so we’re not in anyone’s way, but we can see what’s going on. It’s so loud. I didn’t realize that fire was so loud.
“The flowers are gone,” I murmur softly, thinking of Charlie, and how I won’t have the flowers for her tomorrow. I feel bad. I should have let her take them with her tonight. “It’s all gone. I have to call Aunt Paula.”
“Take a minute,” Evan suggests and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Just take a minute, Summer. You’re shaking.”
“I am?” I look down at my hands and realize he’s right. And they’re dirty. My teeth are chattering. “I wonder if I’m in shock.”
“You’re okay,” he croons softly. His phone pings with a text, and he checks it, frowns, and then shoves it back into his pocket. “I promise, it’ll be okay. Take a minute and then call Paula.”
“Yeah, okay.” I lean into him and look at my sweet shop, thinking about all the memories I have tucked inside there. Helping Aunt Paula in the summer, coming here when I had nowhere else to go, and finally, buying it for my own. How proud I was on that day. It’s been my safe place for all these years, and now, in a matter of minutes, it’s just…gone.
The men rush about. There are ladders in the air, hoses spewing water. Yelling voices, giving orders. But it’s too late to save it.
“Summer!”