Chapter Three
Amariah
“No.” Jacob’s one-word answer bellowed through clenched teeth and a tight jaw.
That was the response I got after all my research, late-night planning, and high hopes.
I’d arrived early, so early I’d powered up, prepped one of the registers, and tidied the displays before he even walked in.
My presentation was ready, complete with charts and projections.
However, my efforts were met with indifference and disdain.
Jacob didn’t care. He barely listened, didn’t even glance at my spreadsheets.
To Jacob, my ideas and I were just an interruption—a nuisance in his day, but one thing I didn’t do was give up.
He moved through the store with the same quiet command that used to make my heart flutter, only now it grated every nerve. I followed him through the aisles, heels clicking against the tile.
“No? What do you mean no? Jacob, there’s clearly room for improvement in our inventory system.”
“We don’t need a new inventory system, Amariah.” His voice was even and sharp.
Still scurrying behind him in my classic pumps, I argued, “The data suggests that this would improve tracking, shipment, and restocking. It—”
“It’s not happening, so I suggest you drop it,” he cut me off, unlocking the back door.
As he dodged my attempts to show him my detailed reports on the iPad, I continued to maneuver around him, refusing to back down. “If you’d just look at the data—”
Finally, he stopped, halting my pleas. He slipped on his gloves and looked me dead in the eye with that familiar scowl he used to give when something or someone had irritated him. He took my iPad, scanned the screen for all of two seconds, chuckled under his breath, and handed it back.
“Like I said,” he muttered, “no.”
I folded my arms, annoyance pinging off me as potent as his irritation. “And why not?” I pursed my lips. “Because the idea came from me?”
His nostrils flared slightly. “No, because the company’s bleeding money. You want us to pour what little we have into a system that costs more than we make.”
“Well, I have other ideas to help boost the revenue—”
“Look,” he interrupted, waving for the delivery driver to back the truck into place, “if you really want to help, you can start by trading in those heels for some boots and helping me unload this shipment instead of playing on Al Gore’s internet. As for that idea, it’s a hard and final no.”
The heat that rushed to my face nearly scorched me alive. How dare he? I’d never felt more humiliated or disrespected in my life. The only thing that kept me from going off on him was the delivery driver’s presence, who was pretending not to listen.
Besides, if I lost it on Jacob, he’d have to call the police, and there was no way I wanted Chief Parsons at my parents’ house trying to explain how I was in custody for disorderly conduct with Jacob.
I already had a slight record with Skye Ridge PD, starting at age fifteen when I accidentally knocked over the city’s welcome sign with Daddy’s pickup truck to show off for Jacob, who had gone along with my insane idea and rode shotgun on the mission.
We’d been grounded for a month. And it was the first time my father threatened me with a belt.
Although the police chief from back then had retired, I was sure the current one remembered the incident, since he was the son of said retired chief and our old classmate.
Apparently, policing was in their family’s DNA.
I didn’t want “arrests” to be part of my DNA, and my father didn’t need the stress.
I took a long breath, turned on my heels, and walked away from the unloading dock before my temper found words. In the breakroom, I brewed a fresh cup of coffee with the new Keurig I’d purchased for the store. Then I shut myself in the office and buried myself in work for the rest of the day.
“Hey, Scottie.”
“Hey, honey. Is everything okay? You sound frustrated,” she said, her tone immediately shifting into concern.
“Just trying to help keep my father’s store afloat. It’s a bit more than I expected, and with his illness…it’s overwhelming.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. That’s one of the reasons for my call. How’s he doing?”
“He’s home, but recovery’s slow and taxing on my mom. He’s out of the woods for now, but any small setback could be bad.” I activated my Bluetooth earbuds and set my phone down on the desk so I could massage my throbbing temples.
“Nope. We’re not going to feed into a negative mindset,” she scolded.
“I know. I know.” I exhaled. “Breathe in positivity. Breathe out bullshitivity.”
“That brings me for the second reason for my call. Since you’ll need more time to tend to your father, I’m going to take interim lead of the Gideon account—”
“Scottie, I can still—”
“Amariah, you have more pressing personal issues. Take the vacation you deserve, and we’ll touch base again to see how things are going,” Scottie interrupted. “And no worries. You’ll still receive emails and updates, but use this time to focus on your father, and I’ll keep you all in prayer.”
While I didn’t want to relinquish control of the Gideon account, I knew Scottie had both my and the company’s best interests in mind.
So I didn’t fight her over it. Right now, I needed the break and her prayers more than I needed to be worried about that account, no matter how much I wanted to be actively involved.
“Thank you, Scottie,” I said. “Not just for the time, but for the prayers. We need those more than you know.”
“Of course. The power of manifestation and prayer is real. Focus on what’s important. Besides, I know you’re pushing yourself to the max. Even God rested on the seventh day. So should you. And give yourself grace. Remember, you’re a super woman, not Superwoman.”
Her words softened the burden on my shoulders. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“I’ve heard that a few times,” she teased, “but go ahead, say it again.”
Her words made me crack the first smile I had managed since arriving in Skye Ridge.
That’s why I appreciated Scottie as both a mentor and a friend.
We exchanged playful banter for a few more minutes.
Her advice served as a calming salve, easing the tension from my current headache—Jacob Gold.
Just as we were about to disconnect, I heard a loud noise from the break room.
“What the hell happened to the coffeemaker?” Jacob’s voice rang out, full of irritation.
I couldn’t help it. I smiled. A deep, unbothered smile. Served him right.
Whatever Jacob thought of me, I wasn’t going anywhere. I was here to help my family, and I’d find a way to do it—with or without his approval. I was the woman determined to save what mattered most.