Chapter 6
The next morning was sunny and warmer, and Fiona had woken up full of excitement. She’d talked to her friends about her plan before, but she hadn’t let on about just how many plans she’d made.
She carried a binder of printouts, graphs and name ideas under her arm, a container of three coffees in her hand, and a bag of muffins that hung from her elbow. Fiona walked down Jones Street until she reached the porch steps that went up to Stella’s stunning condo. Stella came from wealth, which had been abundantly clear to Fiona the first time she visited her place. But she still did quite well on her own as a makeup artist and esthetician.
“Hi!” Stella said, opening the door before Fiona even knocked. Stella was the epitome of a southern belle. Her perfectly smooth hair was sunny blonde, and her skin was a gentle bronze all year long. As she was an esthetician, Fiona was sure that tan came from a bottle. But it was flawless nonetheless.
Stella wore a soft, baby blue cashmere sweater and jeans this morning, her hair in a sleek ponytail that draped halfway down her back.
“Cassie’s not here yet,” she said, guiding Fiona to the kitchen. “She’ll be here in five minutes or so.”
Stella pulled out a few plates and set them on the island.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, taking a to-go cup. She eyed Fiona carefully. “Are you okay?”
Fiona couldn’t understand why she was so nervous all of a sudden. She’d been practically elated on the way over here, but now she was downright jittery. And that was before a single sip of coffee.
She sat down, steadying her hands on her binder.
“Yeah. I had a weird day yesterday,” she said, pulling a muffin from the bag. “I’ll tell you about it when Cassie gets here.”
On cue, the front door opened.
“I’m here,” Cassie yelled from the doorway, practically tripping over the threshold. “I had to help my dad with something.”
She met them in the kitchen, wearing her usual uniform of boots, leggings and a sweater about two sizes too big for her frame. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and a pair of glasses framed her brown eyes.
She set her purse down on the island and glanced at her phone. “Okay, I’ve got 45 minutes. Thanks for the coffee,” she said, smiling at Fiona.
“And muffins,” Stella said, pushing them her way. Cassie fished through the bag before settling on lemon poppyseed.
Fiona picked at her muffin for a bit before she started.
“I lost my job yesterday,” she said simply.
Stella gaped at her. “What? How?”
Fiona shrugged. “Norm’s moving to California with Marc. He’s closing up shop.”
“Oh, Fiona, I’m so sorry,” Cassie said, genuine sadness in her voice. “You love Norm’s.”
Fiona sighed. “I do. I really do. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. So I guess...Stella, are there any suites available at your place?”
Stella did a little dance in her seat. “There is! I’ll give you Faith’s number, I know Nick is moving out next month.”
Fiona nodded. It was a start. But still…
“The only thing is, I won’t be able to afford it. Not until I get more clients. So I think I have to get another job for now.”
“At another salon?” Cassie asked.
Fiona shook her head. “A client that came in yesterday owns the restaurant next door to Norm’s, and they need servers. I was a server for years, so I was thinking about applying.”
“Which restaurant?” Stella asked, frowning. “I don’t remember one next to the salon.”
“Hearth,” Stella said. “I got to try some of their mac n’ cheese yesterday, and it was mind blowing.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by there for lunch,” Stella said. “I have a random gap in the day.”
“Oh, it’s not open yet,” Fiona told them, sipping her coffee.
Cassie tilted her head. “If it’s not open yet, then how did you try their mac n’ cheese?”
Fiona froze. She couldn’t tell them about Porter. Cassie wouldn’t be a problem, but Stella could never find out that Porter was young and, honestly, very attractive. She’d be involved before Fiona finished her muffin.
“They brought some over for us to try at the salon,” she lied. “Anyway, I wanted to talk about something else.”
At their patient expressions, Fiona reached into her binder and pulled out a couple packets. She’d been typing out her ideas for months, but when she couldn’t sleep that morning, she printed them out and made them look pretty.
“I know it’s been awhile since we talked about our glam-on-the-go idea, but I was thinking this might be a good time to get it going. If you’re both on board.”
She slid a packet to each of them.
“All we really need to get started, at least for now, is time and coordination,” she told them. “I think we start with some of our own friends, get feedback and reviews from them, and work our way up from there. We can work out of our own spaces until we get a place, if we decide to go that route.”
She pointed to the first page, which included some of the starting logistics.
“Clients can come to us for consultations and trials ahead of time, if it’s something like a wedding,” she continued. “But if they’re in town for a trip and just want some quick prep for a date night, we could do that, too.”
Fiona watched them read through their packets and waited for their replies.
Cassie sipped her coffee, brow furrowed. “You think we could pull this off? Even with our crazy schedules?”
“I think we’ll work it out,,” Fiona told her. “But only if you two have the time and energy. We could always do a trial period, work with a few of our friends, and just see how it goes.”
Her vision was much bigger than that, but Fiona knew it might take some time for her friends to see it, too.
“I’m in,” Stella smiled, closing her folder. “Why not? We could start it slow, like you said.”
Stella nodded and looked to Cassie.
Cassie chewed on her lip, reading over the business plan intently. After a few moments, she nodded. “Okay. If you think we can make it happen, then I’m willing to try.”
Fiona beamed. “I was hoping you’d say that. There’s a lot more to cover, but we’ll talk about it later. I’ll let you read your packets first.”
They said their goodbyes and got on with their days.
It was only a ten minute walk to the salon, and Fiona basked in the beautiful weather. Winter in Georgia was nothing compared to the Midwestern winters she’d grown up with, but the promise of spring still made her feel a little giddy.
She got to the salon about twenty minutes early, and just before she went inside, she could see movement in the restaurant next door. Through the inch opening between the wall and the paper that covered the windows, she could tell it was Porter moving some furniture around.
Fiona took a quick glance at her reflection in the glass. She looked professional enough, she guessed, in her jeans and thin black sweater. She took a deep breath, and before she lost her nerve, she knocked on the door.
She heard Porter unlock the door, and when he opened it, he looked stunned. “Fiona?” he asked.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked, feeling her confidence nosedive.
“Sure,” he said, leading her inside. He pulled two chairs to a small corner table, invited her to sit.
“I don’t have much time,” she began, “but I wanted to talk to you about the server job.”
Porter blinked at her a few times, as if he had to process what she was saying.
“Oh. Alright,” he said. “Go on.”
Fiona fidgeted with her rings. It was too late to back out now.
“So, Norm’s is closing in a few weeks, and I’ll be out of a job. I was a server part-time for about eight years,” she explained. “So if you’re still looking for servers, I’d like to apply.”
She felt self-conscious with him looking at her. His expression was difficult to read. Finally, he said, “Of course. Um, what’s your email address?”
She told him, and he wrote it down on a business card.
“I’ll email you the application and some interview times,” he said. “David will be in tomorrow and Friday, so we could do it sometime then if you’re available.”
“Thanks,” Fiona said. She stood and followed him to the door. “I’ll get that to you tonight.”
“Great,” he told her. “We’ll talk to you later this week.”