Page 4 of Free to Live
Finally, I pick up the picture of Em and her fiancé, Jake Madison, I took during the night of her Fashion Week debut over a year ago. When Em needed time away to find her artist’s spirit after ending her engagement to another man, she met and fell in love with Jake, whom we all adore. Now. Their relationship was a beautiful tempest and filled with so much tragedy, it almost didn’t make it. I shudder to imagine what Em would be like now if she didn’t have the strength she had to forgive and to believe in not only Jake but herself.
Every time I look at those photographs, I’m reminded we’re no longer broken. We’re no longer frightened. We’re no longer in jeopardy of losing our lives to the monsters of our past. As for me, I’ve accepted I’ll never know that true contentment because having my own home and family just isn’t for someone with the burdens I carry. But seeing the others happy is enough, I remind myself.
I’m startled from my thoughts when my cell rings in my pocket. Reaching back, I pull it out and catch the display. Ali. “Hey.” I put Em’s photo down and stride into the kitchen. I had been headed there to get a snack before I went back to work upstairs. “What’s going on?”
“Just had a doctor’s appointment.”
I frown. “Anything wrong?” I demand. Ali’s the most in shape of all of us, so my sister antenna goes on immediate alert.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” she says breezily. I let out a sigh of relief. Life has been calm for a while. It’s been nice settling into a routine of work, family, and no drama.
“Then what’s up?” Reaching into my fridge, I snag a bottle of water and a jar of salsa before dumping them on the counter. I immediately begin searching for tortilla chips in my cupboard. Ripping open the bag, I unceremoniously dunk the chip into the jar.
“Can you come into the office early tomorrow? I want to talk with you about staffing the photography department.” Ali is our corporate lawyer and chief financial officer.
Even as I’m about to pop the first salsa-laden chip in my mouth, I burst out laughing. “You mean the team of me, myself, and I are having some scheduling issues?” My voice is filled with mirth.
“I know you’ve tried to teach me about photos being in thirds, but I don’t think you’ve managed to actually split yourself into thirds, baby,” Ali rebukes gently. “You’re working way too many hours.”
“No more than the rest of you,” I remind her, even though I know that’s a lie. I’m not married, not engaged, and I’m not dating anyone seriously. I don’t see the problem of helping pick up the slack while I give back the best gift I can to the family of my heart.
Time.
“Considering Cass just called me to tell me you were uploading files to the completed cloud file on your day off—which if I hadn’t called I suspect you wouldn’t have clocked the time—I call shenanigans,” Ali retorts.
“You know, the new computer system you installed was supposed to keep an eye on Phil, not on the rest of us,” I drawl.
Ali just laughs.
I’m only partially kidding. Our brother, in addition to being a genius with flowers, is responsible for the intake of all new clients. He has a remarkable tendency to overbook all of us and then forget to tell us about his scheduling mishaps. It took years, but Ali finally found a way to put him on an electronic leash. Unfortunately, it also allows her to see when we’re all working extra hours except for Corinna, who flatly refuses to have anything more than a telephone in her kitchen for fear of electrocuting herself. But since Ali can track her day-to-day activities based on the food ordering and delivery schedule, she’s pretty confident she has us all under control.
Shoving another chip in my mouth, I give in as I chomp around it. “Fine. What time do you want me in the office?”
“Can you be in around 8:30? I have a meeting with Cassidy around 9.”
I think. If I get in around eight, then I can snag coffee first. “Deal.”
“Perfect. See you in the morning. Love you.”
“Love you too, Ali. Kiss Keene and Kalie for me,” I instruct her. Kalie is Keene and Ali’s three-and-a-half-year-old daughter.
“Always do,” she assures me, right before she disconnects.
Shoving another chip in my mouth, I chomp down while I mull over Ali’s concern. It’s not easy to just bring on a new team member to be a part of our family-owned business. We have interns, but they all eventually leave to move on to other positions. A number of my photography interns have moved into companies that specialize in graphic design, website development, internet startups—things like that. Being a professional photographer is so much more than just taking pictures; it’s meeting with clients, being at events, taking the photos, and doing all the touch-ups. Keeping up with the technology trends alone keeps me working well past my scheduled hours.
Would I like to have some more personal time? Sure. Who wouldn’t? But what would I do if I had it?
That’s both my reward and my punishment. Because even as I’m thrilled for the love my family has found, I know I’ll never have it for myself. Instead, I lose myself in my art to experience down to my soul what I will never be able to otherwise: lifelong happiness and a forever kind of love.
After all, who wants a woman with blood staining her hands for eternity?
2
Holly
“Ireally don’t know how you’re going to handle the amount of new business we’re signing for this year unless you hire someone full-time, Holly.” Ali shoots me a concerned look. We’re in her office before the workday at Amaryllis Events officially begins. Cassidy, Emily, and Corinna are making a quick coffee run while Phil’s on the phone with a client who wants to make changes to their flower arrangements. Ali and I have been debating the merits of hiring a full-time photographer for me in addition to the interns I bring on as the job demands it. Lately, it seems like I’m needing their help more and more.
“You know why I haven’t.” I gnaw at my lower lip. “Every time I audition a new photographer, the families just aren’t happy with the photographs.”
