Page 52 of Falling for You Again

He mimes zipping his mouth. “This house is a vault. Nothing you say here leaves.”

I stare at him and decide I believe him. “Sure, why not.” Typically, I would ask Emi for feedback on anything work related, but she’s not here. Other than a few training videos Tam and Shae helped me record a while back, I haven’t done this big of a presentation since my trade-school days. I angle my laptop for him to see, and he scoots closer. I’m instantly aware of his nearness. The appealing scent of him, the space he takes up.

I direct my attention to the screen. “I’m confident about my ideas and number projections. Profitability should increase dramatically when I align our pricing with our reputation. We should be charging more than we do, by fifteen percent, at least.”

“I agree. What other ways do you see increasing revenue?”

“To start, I’ll diversify our offerings beyond one-off custom orders.” Aaron nods at the rhythm of my words, and it’s all the encouragement I need. I share my ideas about partnering with homebuilders and architects, hosting woodworking workshops, and creating DIY furniture kits with precut and predrilled pieces. I then tell him about my magnum opus, the offering I’m most excited to launch: digital packages that include furniture plans and woodworking templates, matching each with a series of educational videos designed to inspire and spread my love of the craft.

Aaron’s expression is alight with interest through the entire presentation, and he asks a lot of tough questions that challenge me. But when I finish, he falls silent.

I wiggle the pen with unease. “Say something.”

I worry my ideas are terrible. My parents have never shown interest in hearing them, and Uncle Bear rarely gives me permission to implement anything I’ve suggested in the past. He thinks my ideas are over the top. “Just make the table, Meli, and forget the rest. Our clients don’t want all those extras,” he told me. How do I get them to listen to me now when they haven’t before? I worry my efforts will be fruitless.

Aaron clears his throat after a stretch of silence that just reaches the point of feeling strained. “This is brilliant, Meli.”

“Really?” My doubts aren’t easily chased away by a fancy compliment.

“I almost want to convince you to come work for us. You’d be an asset. Have you recorded any videos yet to test your idea?”

“A few. The gals helped me. Tam, Shae, and Emi,” I say. I open my file explorer. “Here’s one. We recorded it about six months ago. It’s for a small dining table.”

“May I watch?”

“It’s almost an hour long.”

He shrugs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“All right,” I say with a little reticence. I haven’t shown the video to anyone apart from my friends. I play the video, cracking my knuckles at a few points while Aaron quietly watches the tutorial. The video finishes and he immediately compliments my work.

“Thank you.”

“My only suggestion is to break it into shorter clips.”

“Emi said the same thing.”

“You’re a natural teacher. Send me the link? I want to watch it again when I’m not so tired.”

“You just want to see me in a hard hat,” I joke, disguising the guilt I feel for keeping him up so late. I send him a link to access the video.

“Your ideas are solid, Meli. So are your projections. I think you’re on the right track. Why are you worried?”

“Uncle Bear. He hasn’t been open to my ideas in the past, and so far, he won’t consider an offer from me. Who’s to say he’ll listen to me now?”

“You can always open your own shop.”

“True, but it wouldn’t be the same.” Apart from my family not working with me, I’d truly have to start from scratch. But with Artisant Designs, even if my parents and uncle don’t work there, the shop would be where it’s always been. I’d be able to work around the memory ofthem. I’d still feel connected to my family’s legacy so long as I’m within those walls.

Aaron yawns and I notice it’s after midnight. “You should get some sleep. I’ve kept you up long enough.”

“I don’t mind.” He yawns again. “Yeah, I should head up.” He takes his bowl to the sink. “Are you coming?”

“I want to run through my numbers again. You go ahead. I’ll lock up.”

He stares at me. I think he wants to say something, but he turns around and starts to leave, only to stop at the kitchen doorway and glance over his shoulder with a soft smile. “Good night, wife.”

I easily smile back. “Good night, husband.”

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