Page 39 of Up All Night

“But honey, West is gorgeous and—even more important—wealthy,” she argued. “You could be set for life with him. He could give you a life you couldn’t give yourself. He’s someone who could help you get your own dance studio.”

I blanched at her words. She meant well, but her words still stung.

I’d always known my dance studio dream was far-fetched, that the reality of me actually being able to do pull it off was slim. But hearing my own mother saying that the life I longed for, teaching kids to dance in my own studio, was only a possibility if I found some rich guy to help me achieve it, was like a punch to the gut.

I’d been saving for so long, but still had nowhere near the money needed to rent a building, remodel it, buy a sign, pay for marketing, and everything else that came with starting your own business.

A feeling of defeat began to weave its way through me. Maybe she was right. Not the part about marrying a rich guy, but the part about how I couldn’t give myself the life I wanted on my own.

That thought bounced around in my head, and everything in me wanted to reject it. I’d gotten where I was today because of my hard work. Maybe I couldn’t do it all on my own, and getting some help wasn’t such a bad idea. I hadn’t wanted to go this route, but raising the funds needed wasn’t turning into a reality. So as much as I didn’t want to go into debt, a bank loan might be my best bet.

It was risky. If the bank granted me a loan, that didn’t guarantee the dance studio would be successful. I’d still have to work my butt off.

But didn’t the greatest rewards require hard work and some type of risk?

The idea of me going ahead with this plan had me more excited than I had been in a long time. I was young and had time to take a business risk like this. It would either really pay off, or it would go up in flames, and then I’d just go back to doing what I was doing now.

I set down my coffee mug. “You know what, Mom?” I said. “I don’t need a guy to get me the life I want. All I need is me. I’m going to get my dance studio.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” she asked.

“I’m going to get a bank loan,” I informed her. “I’ll work on a business plan, and it will impress them so much, they won’t be able to say no.”

I had no idea if I could actually do that, but I was going to try.

Kate stopped painting her nails. “Are you serious?” she asked with excitement.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’ve been working myself ragged with two jobs, and it’s time I took the leap. I think between the loan and the amount of money I have saved up, I’ll have enough to get the ball rolling. If I don’t do it now, I never will.”

“Halle,” Kate exclaimed, coming over to give me a hug. “This is so exciting.”

“Thanks,” I said, squeezing her back.

My mom gave me a small smile. “I hope it all works out for you, honey.” She tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “But remember being with a rich guy is a great back-up plan,” she teased.

We all laughed. Of course my mom would consider being with a rich guy a great back-up plan.

A knock sounded on the door.

Kate let Ron inside, who went straight to our bathroom to check things out.

I continued to sip my coffee, thinking about how I’d spontaneously decided to jump headfirst into my dance studio dream. Feelings of excitement and worry fought for dominance. I’d have to google how to make a business plan, but it couldn’t be too hard, right? I was sure there would be a template I could follow.

“Halle?” Ron called out. “I think I’ve diagnosed the problem.”

Setting down my coffee, I joined him in the bathroom. “What is it?”

“I asked a few other tenants in your building if they have hot water, and they all do, which means it doesn’t have anything to do with the water heater. The only other explanation I can think of is that your mixer valve went bad.”

My brows creased. “Mixer valve? What’s that?”

He took off his ball cap and scratched his balding head. “The mixing valve controls the water temperature of your shower by blending the cold and hot water together. Sometimes the valve can wear out or break, so it’s preventing hot water from mixing properly into your shower water,” he explained.

“Okay,” I nodded. “So how do we fix it?”

Placing his cap back on his head, he put his hands on his hips. “I’m going to have to replace the mixer valve, which depending on how long it takes me to find the part and reinstall it, it could be a few days.”

“A few days?” my voice squeaked out.

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