Eldest Daughter #3
As one of eight siblings—eight!—she never had the opportunity to go to college, much less graduate school. While I know she’s always wanted better for me, I also get why she’d be bitter about not having the opportunities I did.
“I’m trying my best.” It’s all I can think to say.
Dad sighs. “You have to get off the payroll, Lainey. Our payroll. It’s time you supported yourself.”
“I want that too, Dad. Believe me.”
I also really, really want to get the hell out of Fort Worth and back to Austin. But once I’m there…I mean, what do I do next?
“Welp.” Dad folds his hands over his stomach. “I might actually have a solution to your problem. A temporary one. But it’s something.”
I raise a brow. “Oh?”
“A client of mine—he’s been with me forever—owns a big-ass ranch down in Hill Country. They breed horses there.”
I blink again. “Horses? A ranch?” Now I’m laughing for real. “Dad, you know I’m not the least bit outdoorsy—”
“Listen. He’s getting ready to retire. But before he does, he wants to rebrand the family ranch.
New look, new logo, new website—the whole shebang, so that the ranch is in tip-top shape when he passes it down to his kids.
I immediately thought of you, of course.
But you were in the middle of your private equity interviews, so I haven’t said anything. ”
My chest lifts, just a little. Okay. So I’d be doing my indoor thing for an outdoor-type client. Not ideal but not terrible either. It’d give me something to do at the very least.
Still, the idea of setting up camp in the middle of nowhere doesn’t excite me. Hill Country is only three hours from here, but it might as well be on another planet for how different it is from Fort Worth or Austin.
Then again, taking this job would give me a great excuse not to visit Mom and Dad for a couple months. Judging by how this particular trip is shaping up, I’d be saving myself some real headaches.
Dad lifts his fingers. “Like I said, it’s a temporary gig. Dale would bring you down to the ranch, all expenses paid. Room and board included. You’d do some research, come up with a few concepts, and then launch a new site. Honestly, sounds like easy money to me.”
“I’m listening,” I say slowly.
“Really, think about it this way: You’d be tackling an incredible project for an incredible ranching dynasty,” Dad continues. “You could really make an impact. Shake things up in that world. The Wallaces’ operation is enormous.”
“The Wallaces?” I furrow my brow. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“You wouldn’t have. They’re very private. They’re also very, very wealthy.”
I mean, I do need the money if I want to keep my apartment in Austin.
I also need some time to ponder my next move.
This does sound like the perfect opportunity to figure out whether I can turn the Creative Cactus into my dream job.
Really, to figure out what my next steps are in general.
The thought of doing that alone in my apartment while I watch my business school friends take flight in their new careers makes my stomach cramp.
“How wealthy exactly?” I ask.
“Wealthy enough to pay you a hefty sum for giving the business an updated spin. We’re talking a net worth in the millions. Many, many millions. Dale Wallace once sold a stallion for close to five hundred thousand bucks. He breeds the best of the best.”
My wheels are already turning. “Elevated Western” is very much a trend right now in fashion and design. It would be cool to channel some of that in a project.
I’d do a moody color palette, turquoise and crimson and deep, saturated greens. Would burnt orange work too? Or would that be leaning into the Wild West thing too much?
A rush of joy moves through me. I love this shit. Even now, dead tired and defeated after a long day, my heart still leaps at the prospect of opening up my laptop to create.
No two ways about it, I’m obsessed with design. And color. And the very real cowboys I’d see—maybe even meet—if I took on this project.
They’ve gotta be better than Randolph Price Edwards III, right?
“When I told Dale that you specialized in that kind of thing, he perked right up,” Dad says. “They’ve recently added a barrel racing training program to their offerings. New arena and everything. They want to really run with that aspect of their business. Pardon the terrible pun.”
“You’re pardoned. They have an arena on their property? Like a legit stadium-type thing?”
“They do.” Dad nods. “I’m telling you, the Wallace Ranch is one of the most impressive places you’ll see in Texas, full stop.”
I drink more wine. “Maybe I don’t hate the sound of this.”
“I think it’d be good for you,” Mom says. “A stopgap for sure. But maybe it’ll lead you to something better. More permanent.”
I don’t know where my career is headed, but I do know I’m the kind of woman who jumps when adventure calls.
I can still set myself up for financial freedom and take the job on that ranch, right? They’re not mutually exclusive concepts, especially considering the current state of my job hunt.
Finance bros like Randolph are the opposite of adventure. But cowboys?
Yee-freaking-haw.