Chapter Eight
Beckett
The moment I was on my back on the couch, I had the strangest urge to tug Sadie down with me.
Foolish.
I didn’t know her, and I was anti-sound bath like two seconds ago. Why in the world would I want to have her lie on my couch with me?
Probably because she looked like an angel again. Or still. Maybe she always looked like an angel, twenty-four hours a day.
“Am I doing this right?” I asked instead of inviting her to join me on the couch.
“Yes.” She hooked her red hair behind her ear as she peered down at me. Those electric green eyes of hers stirred something inside me as I looked up at her.
We stared for a few silent minutes before she blinked several times and stood more upright.
Because at some point during our staring at each other, she’d bent over me. Had she meant to get that close?
“So, follow my cues for the breathwork.” Sadie walked away to position herself behind the singing bowls. “Inhale for one, two, three, four . . .”
I followed along, taking in a deep breath to her count of four.
“And hold for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Sadie continued. “Then release for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”
We engaged in that breathing pattern together for a few rounds, and truth be told, some of the tension that always lived in my shoulders and back sifted into the couch cushions beneath me.
Out of my family members, I was the one whose work at Hartley’s Nest required the most sitting at a desk, hunched over a computer.
Not the best for the body, but I liked to think my jogging and lifting counter-balanced my sitting-still time.
Nothing I did workout-wise, however, ever loosened up my shoulders and back.
Not like this breathing had.
Interesting.
“Now keep a steady rhythm to your breathing that feels natural,” Sadie guided.
Then she struck the singing bowls and the loveliest chiming sounded from them. When she ran the mallets around the edges of the bowls, they actually did sing. They reminded me of wineglasses full of water that when you rubbed your fingers along the rims let out that low vibrating tone.
Only these singing bowls created an even better song. One that resonated in my chest and between my ears. One that made my very skin relax if that made sense.
My eyes closed and I enjoyed the ethereal tones Sadie played, drawing the music of the singing bowls deep into myself.
For once, my mind wasn’t on video games or Hartley’s Nest finances or anything.
The tones acted as brooms, gently sweeping away everything that usually littered my busy brain. I felt airy, light, transparent.
I fell deeper under whatever spell Sadie was weaving with those bowls, and a warm, comforting green hue slowly painted itself behind my closed eyelids. The color somehow had a feeling to it.
Contentment, perhaps?
Possibly bliss?
Maybe euphoria?
Absolutely nothing in my body hurt. I was complete mush and I liked it.
The singing bowls echoed in my living room for a good stretch of time then gently petered out as Sadie ended the session.
Slowly, I turned my head to face her, and she raised her eyebrows at me from her position still behind the bowls.
“Well?” she asked.
“What sorcery was that?” I looked back up at the ceiling. “I . . . I . . . feel fucking fantastic.”
Sadie chuckled. “That’s the point, Beckett. And might I add that your aura is now a lovely shade of green?”
I slid to a seated position, but honestly, my body was in a gaseous state right now. No form. Just vapor.
“Green?” I focused on my hands as if I might actually see a green color hovering around them. “I saw green as the bowls were playing.”
“It’s a much better color than the gray that was sticking to you before. Green represents the heart chakra, so maybe we opened that up for you.” Sadie stood, one graceful move that got her to her feet effortlessly. She probably rocked at yoga.
And maybe some other physical activities.
“The gray is gone?” I asked, surprised by how much I cared about that.
“No sign of it.” Sadie stepped around the bowls and came closer, her hands tightly gripping the mallets. “Listen, I apologize if me saying your aura was off upset you. I’m accustomed to saying whatever is on my mind.”
“It’s okay.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “You were right. My aura was off. It had to have been if I feel this differently after your sound bath magic.”
“You feel differently? Truly?” The hopeful tone was endearing, child-like almost.
“I do.” I looked up at her. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me because I’m about to bother you about my business now.” She grinned. “Hopefully that doesn’t turn your aura back to gray.”
“Well, if it does, you can whack those bowls some more, can’t you?”
“I suppose I can.” Her smile widened. “Now that you’re a believer in sound baths and auras.”
“And breathwork,” I added as I pushed to my feet. “Don’t forget the breathwork.”
Sadie and I stood across from one another, falling back into that staring thing we kept doing. What was that?
Wiggling my arms as if to shake off the trance between us, I said, “Come on into my office and we can get started on your business stuff.” I amazed myself with my ability to focus on why Sadie was here, especially because my mind kept thinking of other reasons she could be here instead.
Reasons that involved way more than breathwork, sound baths, and staring at each other.
Was that because my heart chakra was open now?
Sadie stopped to grab a tote bag she’d brought in with her and to set the mallets on my coffee table. “I won’t pack those singing bowls up yet in case you need another dose.”
I led her into my office and to my work desk where I’d already pulled over my gaming chair for me to sit on so she could have my other chair.
“Have a seat.” I pulled out the regular desk chair then picked up a dry erase marker. “Unload your ideas, I’ll jot them on this whiteboard, then we’ll devise a plan of attack, okay?”
“Okay.”
She opened her tote bag and pulled out a bunch of little slips of paper then gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry, but this is how ideas come to me. In tiny snippets. I try to capture them immediately then end up having all this.” She gestured to the papers she’d dumped onto my desk.
“Don’t apologize for your process.” I sat beside her and set the dry erase marker down. “We all have our own brand of genius.”
Sadie stopped fiddling with the papers. “Oh, I love that saying.”
“My dad used to say that all the time.” I rolled up the sleeves of my flannel shirt.
“I have five siblings and while we have a great deal in common, we also have our own quirks. Dad would give us the brand-of-genius line whenever we were fighting over the right way to do something. It immediately stopped the conflict because we felt as if we were all doing it right but in our own unique way.”
“Your father sounds wise,” Sadie said.
“He was.”
Just then the lights in my office flickered. It felt like a message from my dad. One that said he agreed that he was wise.
Sadie pulled a few more papers out of her tote bag and added them to the pile on my desk. “Your dad was wise?”
I focused on the paper in my hand that said offer early appointments for before work in Sadie’s handwriting—a fancy handwriting.
“Yeah, he died unexpectedly when I was a teenager.” I kept my gaze trained on the slips of paper. “We’ve been without him for a long time.”
Sadie’s delicate fingers hooked onto my elbow where my arm was bent and leaning on the desktop. “I’m so sorry, Beckett.”
“Thanks.” I risked a glance up to meet her gaze and that staring thing happened again. A long, quiet moment stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. A little weird, yes, but not unpleasant.
In fact, it may have been a bit soothing. If Sadie had this same effect on her clients, she was going to be a ginormous success.
“So . . .” I turned my attention back to the papers. “Why don’t we sort these into categories to start? I see some commonalities as I look at them. For example, outside classes and an indoor space are both ideas about location.” I put those two papers in a pile together.
Sadie surveyed the papers. “And this one? Calming neutral tones is what I envision for the indoor space décor.” She added that to the location pile.
We continued with this method until we had piles for location, services, promotion, collaboration, and finances.
“I’m going to add a category called technology, if you’re not opposed to that,” I said.
“Because I have some programs that will aid your business.” I scribbled down the names of the accounting and scheduling software I used for Hartley’s Nest, along with a few other tech tools that would work for this type of business.
“Do you have an indoor space in mind already?”
Sadie shook her head. “I can’t afford one yet. My plan is to build a client base by offering in-home and outdoor services to start. Once I have enough income, I’ll expand to a dedicated indoor space.”
“I imagine people would love what you did for me here in my home,” I said. “It added to the relaxation that I didn’t have to travel anywhere.”
“So you think in-home offerings is a good idea?” That hopeful gleam in her eyes was back again. Sadie had this innocence about her, but she also had determination to reach the business goals she had in mind.
We all have our own brand of genius. Dad was right.
“It’s a great idea,” I said. “Especially with the colder, snowier months on the horizon. It means you’ll have to travel, but your clients won’t.
” The little sedan she was currently driving concerned me in terms of her being out driving in Vermont winter weather, but she probably couldn’t afford anything better suited right now. I set that worry aside.
For now.
“I have something here, right?” Sadie asked. “It’s not foolishness to try to do this, is it?”
“Not at all.” I swiveled my chair to face her more.
The cream-colored sweater she had on had fallen off one shoulder to reveal that the shirt she had on underneath was a fitted tank top.
I was treated to a view of one smooth, pale shoulder that, like her cheeks and nose, had a light sprinkling of freckles.
Her red hair was gathered on her other shoulder and fell in soft waves, the tips nearly touching her lap as she sat.
My fingers were getting some serious ideas about exploration so I picked up the dry erase marker to keep them occupied.
“Knowing you don’t think it’s a silly idea for a business brings me such comfort,” she said. “I feel as if I’m stumbling about here so it’s a relief to hear I have some good ideas.”
“What kind of work did you do before coming to Vermont?” I asked.
“Work?” Her brows furrowed. “I . . . I worked with my family.” She waved a hand. “That hardly counts as work.” She tapped one of the piles of papers on the desk. “This is work. And I want it to succeed.”
Not very forthcoming with the details, but that was fine. She didn’t owe me her life story.
But I definitely wanted to hear it, and maybe one day I would.
“I think the first thing you need is a website,” I said.
“That will be a good place to introduce yourself, list your services and offerings, host a scheduling app, and collect payments. You can also promote your business by sharing your website. We can make you business cards. Have you thought of a name for your business?”
Sadie plunged her hand back into the tote bag. She extracted another slip of paper and slid it along the desk to me.
Kalm Kingdom was written on the paper.
“Kalm because my services aim to bring about calm and peace in my clients,” Sadie explained, “and Kingdom because this area is called the Northeast Kingdom.”
“It’s perfect.” And so are you, Sadie Rodgers. I managed to keep that last part to myself. “I’m envisioning some logo ideas, unless you already have one in mind.”
“I don’t so I’m open to suggestions.”
Nodding, I reached for my laptop and slid it in front of me. “Let’s brainstorm. A logo can get at the heart of what a business is about and then everything else falls into place.” I grinned. “Plus designing logos is fun.”
“Okay.” Sadie wiggled in her seat a bit, and I liked that she seemed excited to work together.
I grabbed my phone. “Let’s also get a nice photo of you for the website.”
“A photo?” If possible, Sadie’s pale skin grew paler.
“Yes. People like to see who they’re buying services from. It makes it all more personal,” I said. “Consumers buy from people they know, like, and trust. A photo helps create those feelings.”
“No photos.” Sadie stood. “Maybe this business isn’t a good idea after all.”
“What?” I leaned back in my seat. “It’s a great idea. One I think you’ll be successful at growing into something that serves people. What’s the problem with taking a photo?” I waved a hand over her. “It’s not like you’re not photogenic.”
Her lips tilted up slightly at my compliment, but then they settled back into a firm line as she shook her head.
“I’d rather skip the photo part, Beckett,” she said. “I don’t like being photographed.”
I had a feeling it was more than that, but pressing her seemed like a good way to get her to say she didn’t want my help.
And I wanted to help her.
Because if she succeeded in building this business, she’d most likely stay in Greenridge, and that was something else I wanted.