Chapter Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Hello? Lydia, is that you?”
I take a deep breath, hoping my voice will sound right when I open my mouth. I’m just calling to check in on my sister and nephew, get the lowdown on how they’re settling in, making an attempt at being a decent aunt. That is definitely why I’m calling.
I mean, I do care. I hope they’re doing well.
But Celia and I never just call each other to chat. So she’s going to think I want something. And I hate that she’ll be correct.
“Uh, yeah. Hi.”
“Hello,” Celia says again, sounding about as awkward and surprised as I feel.
“Is this a good time? I don’t want to interrupt any um...baby things.”
At this, my sister laughs. And for once, it sounds genuine, not dismissive or forced. “If you mean endless laundry and diaper folding, I’ll let it slide for a bit. Gabriel's napping right now. I could use some adult conversation.”
“Oh. Great.” I’m not sure what to say next. I hadn’t given much thought to anything past dialing her number, which was hard enough. “Are you enjoying being a mother? ”
I cringe as soon as I ask this. What new mom is going to say they don’t like motherhood? I cover my face with my palm while Celia affirms the obvious.
“Oh, it’s the best. I don’t sleep as much, for sure, but I’m in love with little Gabriel. Wouldn’t trade him for anything. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
She sounds like a Hallmark card, and I feel slightly nauseous.
“That’s great.”
I’m struggling to remember why I called, why this conversation was worth having when I could’ve just sent a text without all the uncomfortable silence, but then Celia speaks again and inadvertently reminds me.
“Mom said Anton’s mother was in the hospital.” Her voice is sober. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I...” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Thanks.”
My sister can’t know how devastated I am about Sharon, about what’s happened between me and Anton. How I feel like everything around me is coming to an end all at once. But I appreciate her sincerity.
“Look, I actually called to ask if I could run something by you. It’s, um, a business situation. You can bill me for coaching if you want.”
She snorts. “I’m not going to charge my own sister just to answer a question.” She pauses, then amends. “Well...maybe I won’t if you promise you and Anton will come for Thanksgiving.”
I grit my teeth, trying not to imagine what the next family holiday might look like. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll buy the pies.”
“Hah.” I can tell she’s angling her nose high, like she’s won something.
“Okay, let me just get to it. I—I received an offer from an associate interested in purchasing my businesses. All of them. I had initially turned it down, but now I’m having second thoughts.”
“Interesting.” Her voice rises in surprise. “What kind of figures are we talking?”
I share the number and she whistles. “Not bad, Lydia, considering.”
Considering the dog poop? Fleas? She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask.
“So, out of curiosity...If you already declined, what’s making you reconsider? ”
I miss my husband.
A twinge of pain works through my chest. He hasn’t called. Hasn’t texted. Hasn’t done anything to indicate he feels the same way I do. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Or our argument before he went to Dallas. I’m not super interested in waiting around until you have time for me.
My stomach feels heavy. I was awake all last night thinking about everything. The past few weeks, the past ten years. Anton probably spoke more actual words about our relationship the morning he left than he has our entire marriage, but when I really think about it—Unmatched, the thirty-day deadline—he has been communicating how he feels. I’ve been the one avoiding him.
“I’m just worried it might’ve been a hasty decision. I don’t want to wind up regretting it later.”
“That’s wise.” I can hear her clicking around on a computer. “What does Anton say about it?”
“He wants me to sell.” The tip of my nose burns. “He thinks I work too much.”
“Ah, marital discord,” Celia says. And there’s a surprising bitterness in her voice I’ve never heard before. “Well, let’s coach you through this. I mean, if you want a real analysis, I’ll need to see the proposal, your profit and loss statements for the last several years, etc. But for the sake of this conversation, what are all the immediate pros and cons?”
“Pros of selling would be...money, obviously. A change of pace. Flexibility to travel and focus on things I haven’t had time for.” Like my marriage . My face burns. “It might also be an opportunity to pursue other things.”
“Like what?” she asks.
“Uh . . . I don’t know. Maybe a new business.”
“You don’t have anything in mind?”
“No. Not at all. All of my plans for the foreseeable future were tied to the Pooches.” Unless you count starting my own family?
“Hmm.” She types for several minutes, then pauses. “Okay, what about the cons of selling?”
“Giving up my livelihood,” I say, a little too quickly. “Lump sums aside, my businesses are profitable. We’re not hurting, and I enjoy them. I’m not sure I’m ready to walk away.”
“Profitable even with the new place opening up?”
I nod. “Even if we only get half the business of the first location, we’ll be fine.”
“Look at you,” she lilts, not quite under her breath. “Okay, and I can assume the pros of not selling would be getting to keep and grow the pet businesses you love, having a stable income, and the cons would be...poor work-life balance, less flexibility for travel, and no pile of cash.”
And no marriage , I add in my head. “Essentially.”
Celia makes a humming sound, then lets out a low breath. “I mean, if it were me, I’d take the money. But if you don’t need it and don’t have something else you really want to pursue, it still makes sense to hold on to the dog stuff. Especially if it makes you happy.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised. After a minute, my shoulders slump with disappointment. I was sure she’d tell me to sell the business and take the cash—that’s what I needed her to say. This feels like the same conversation I already had with Anton. The Pooches do make me happy, but they can’t be the answer. Because what I couldn’t grasp before, maybe what should have been obvious, is how happy he makes me too. It doesn’t seem fair that I have to choose—one or the other—our life together, or apart.
Henry’s offer is open on my laptop. I still feel bad about our meeting in my office on Wednesday. He was being pushy, but I hadn’t meant to snap at him. He could probably sense I’d been impulsive about the decision and was just trying to get me to reconsider. Well, I guess it worked after all because here I am, reconsidering. But I can’t bring myself to make the call.
I wish I could talk to Anton about it.
Except I already have.
“Anton never insisted I quit,” I say quietly, more to myself than my sister. “I think his point was I’m over-committed.”
“Anton’s never been a female in business.” Celia sniffs. “Who is making the offer, by the way? Is it anyone you know? Think they might consider a counter of some kind? ”
I pause, trying to process her suggestion. “What do you mean?”
“It’s kind of a long shot, and might not be something you’re interested in, but you could see if they’d be willing to hammer out some sort of compromise. Maybe not a full acquisition, but more of a partnership?”
I take a sharp breath. And it’s like something clicks in the back of my mind.
I scroll through the offer again. To the section where Henry specified that he wanted me to stay on for a limited time as a consultant. Meaning, stick around and run things because he knows nothing about dog care. And, I’m willing to bet, he really doesn’t want to know either. Henry’s goal is purely to improve the business and make money.
“Celia...thank you.” My heart races to keep pace with my mind, but I force myself to breathe, slow down, and extend genuine praise to my sister. “You really are good at what you do.”
Charlotte gives me a brief hug as I walk through the reception area of her office. “You look like someone who’s been weighing big decisions.”
“You could say that,” I mutter, following her to a small conference room. “Thanks for working on this so quickly.”
She waves her hand in the air as we each take a seat. “This is how these sorts of deals happen. Lots of overthinking and back-and-forth, then suddenly, it’s done.”
I fidget with my paw print necklace. “We’ll see about that.”
I ended up being too chicken to contact Henry myself. If Anton had been here, we might’ve managed it together. Approached him as a team. He could’ve smoothed out all the things I’d handled badly. But since we still haven’t spoken, and because I’ve already screwed up enough to nearly ruin things, I felt more comfortable letting Charlotte handle the delivery of my counter-proposal.
The door opens, and in walks Henry Hill, followed by another man in a suit and glasses. Presumably his attorney. Charlotte greets them both like the cool professional she is, and I’m grateful for her. I haven’t actually spoken to Henry since I essentially stomped on his offer and threw him out of my office. Maybe it wasn’t quite that bad, but I do wish I’d handled it differently.
Charlotte gestures for the men to sit, then turns to me. “Lydia Richie, this is Mr. Hill, whom I understand you already know, and his attorney, Mr. Lunter.”
“Yes.” I extend my arm to shake their hands. “Nice to meet you. And good to see you again, Henry.”
He takes my hand with a bright smile. “Glad you were willing to give the deal some more thought.”
I blush a little, sure we’re both recalling the impulsive way I last spoke to him. “Yes, well, this is a bit different from the deal you originally proposed.”
“True.” He cocks an eyebrow. “But this might actually work out better.”
I exhale a little, hearing him validate my own hopes. Not just for the Pooches, but maybe all parts of my life.
“Mr. Lunter and I have already nailed down the financial details, and that’s all in order.” Charlotte puts on a pair of glasses, shuffling through the papers in front of her. “But before we move forward, we should discuss how you each envision this working. How do you see your roles as co-owners of Ooh La Pooch and the rapidly growing Pooch Park?”
I take a deep breath, again grateful for Charlotte’s wisdom and ability to think with her feet on the ground. All I’ve been able to do for the past forty-eight hours is rehash Anton’s words from the other morning. You put all you have into work, and there’s nothing left.
“I...I want to have more time to focus on certain things. I love the Pooches, and they’re both thriving, but I do have a number of balls in the air.” I pause at Henry’s confused expression. “Sorry, ‘The Pooches’ is Anton’s nickname for both businesses.”
“Ah. Cute,” he says.
“There are things I truly adore about running The Pooch Park and Ooh La Pooch,” I press on. “I love making clients feel their dogs are special to us. I love making my employees feel valued and important. And I love getting to play with the actual dogs.” Henry nods as he listens, the corner of his mouth twitching when I mention our canine clients. He carefully removes a hair from his sleeve. “The things I don’t love about running the Pooches? Processing payroll, staying up-to-date on insurance and employee benefits, figuring out anything to do with our taxes...”
Henry sits forward. “I have systems to streamline all of those things. And more.”
“I thought you might.” I offer a warm smile. “I think I’m ready to not wear every hat myself, but I love my businesses. I still want to be involved on a day-to-day level, but maybe not twenty-four hours a day. And I have specific ideas about possible expansion.”
“Mr. Hill,” Charlotte asks. “Does Ms. Richie’s description match up with how you’re envisioning this partnership?”
“I believe it does.” Henry glances at his attorney, who removes some papers from his briefcase. “We took the liberty of drawing up specifics on the division of labor, so to speak, as well as some financial projections. Lydia and I will be equal partners, but my role will remain more behind the scenes, focused on things like accounting, human resources, website development, and social media, while Lydia continues as the face of the business, and...” Henry trails off, waving his hands as if to dismiss something unpleasant.
“I handle the actual dogs,” I finish for him, biting back a laugh.
“Yes, preferably,” he says.
Charlotte peruses the documents from the other attorney, and we all make notes, going further into the details. Henry asks about the status of the new Pooch Park location, and we discuss whether to hire someone new or promote Tomás to take some of the managerial pressure off me. I tell him about Scarlet quitting last minute, how incredibly hard it is to find decent groomers, and he makes some really great suggestions about how to incentivize the right people to replace her. Then we go into detail on my expansion plans, and I listen as he speculates what might be most profitable. It’s actually kind of nice when he offers to run comparisons on similar business models, and I realize all I have to do is focus on the fun parts—what boarding, pet sitting, or dog training might look like added to our operations—without having to slog through their financial viability first.
By the time we leave Charlotte’s office that afternoon, we have a tentative agreement. Henry will be buying a fifty percent stake in the Pooches and all related businesses going forward, and I will receive a nice injection of cash. It’s not the mind-blowing amount initially proposed, but it’s still significant.
I pull my phone out on the way to my car, desperate to call Anton and tell him everything. I have a plan—I can strike a balance. I’m making time for both work and pleasure, and I want that pleasure to include him.
My brain catches up to my fingers before I manage to dial. I haven’t heard from Seth for two days. That might mean nothing with Sharon has changed, but if it has...
I swipe to my browser and start Googling flights. Whatever the situation, Anton and I need to be face-to-face.