Page 39 of Book Club Confidential

“Good morning,” Tessa said against the soft fabric of Monique’s blouse.

“Happy Monarch Festival,” Josephine added.

Scents of rosemary and vanilla wafted from the shop owner’s hair. She released the women with a wide smile. Her brown skin glowed with a youthfulness Tessa’s had lost in college, which Tessa feared no amount of product would ever restore.

“We brought you a little care package,” Tessa said, raising a bag from the wagon.

She’d purchased the brown bags with twine handles from a stationery store across the street and stamped them with the image of a large butterfly. Inside, Tessa had written words of thanks onto a folded square of card stock. She’d added a beeswax candle, a piece of fudge, a stained glass circle with Monique’s initials, and a number of additional small treasures, donated from other clients’ shops downtown.

She’d also included a list of fun ways the shops might work together this year to support one another and enhance sales through networking.

“Ohh,” Monique cooed, taking the bag gently, then clutching it to her chest. “Do you know how many people I’ve met through these little bags? New customers appear all year long because other shop owners recommended me after receiving a little something from my shop in their bag. A few of us meet monthly to talk about ways we can build on your ideas. You added a new list?” she asked, hope rising in her voice.

“I did,” Tessa said.

“Bless!” Monique strode back to the business side of her counter and traded Tessa’s bag for two small maroon ones with cream-colored tissue poking from the top of each. “A little something from me.” She delivered one gift to Tessa and the other to Josephine. “I hope your days are filled with the abundance you provide all of us little shops downtown.”

Tessa read the letters in the image on the bag. Four capital letter H’s formed a tight row.

“Harbor Heights Helping Hands,” Monique said. “It’s the group of shop owners I mentioned.”

“You organized?” She smiled, marveling. “Impressive.”

“We’re planning to reinvest half of our proceeds from select sales and events into the HHHH. We’re working on a better name.”

Tessa laughed. “Thank you. I love everything about this.” Knowing she’d inspired the shop owners to connect and network gave her an unexpected thrill.

Tessa and Josephine said their goodbyes and headed back into the day. Their other deliveries went much the same way as the first, and they arrived at the office with full stomachs, thanks to generous café owners, and overflowing hearts for the same reason.

At her desk, Tessa switched gears smoothly and tackled her inbox before returning calls, a number of which had waited nearly twenty-four hours because she’d stuck to an eight-hour workday yesterday. She felt a little guilty for not responding sooner, but she could do only so much between eight and five. Hopefully none of her clients would leave when they stopped getting immediate priority treatment. She worried that was the primary reason they chose her, because she gave around-the-clock attention and always put their requests above her need for sleep, food, self-care, or a social life.

It took every ounce of her limited restraint not to start each email with an apology and detailed explanation of why she possibly let them down by making them wait for her response. It’s not wrong to draw boundaries, she reminded herself. Even if it feels terrifyingly uncomfortable.

The heroine in her story definitely worked forty-hour weeks, not eighty. She also prioritized self-care and protected her energy. Tessa was shocked at how hard it was to do those basic things. Tessa had spent far too long putting everyone else’s needs above her own, and so far breaking those habits felt a lot like breaking fingers. Not fatal, but incredibly painful, nonetheless.

She sent the emails with her usual enthusiasm, professionalism, and kindness, after reciting the apology portion silently in her head. A compromise she could live with. “Baby steps,” she whispered.

When her coworkers packed up their things and made their way toward the elevator, she forced herself to close the document she’d been working on and follow suit.

“Hey, Michels,” Peyton called.

Her muscles tightened, but she pretended not to hear him as she rose to her feet. Who called adults by their last names outside a sports arena? She shouldered her bag, then turned to leave.

“Michels,” he repeated, louder this time. Quick footfalls punctuated his words. “Tessa, wait!”

Tessa turned toward him, chin up and shoulders square.

“I missed you at the morning meeting,” he said, slowing as he reached her side. “We talked about the L and L account and the pitch team.”

Tessa stared, waiting for the question.

He straightened to his full height. “So,” he said.

“So,” she repeated.

“Why weren’t you in the meeting? You know how huge this client is for us.”

“For you,” she said. “Lilacs and Lace is huge for you. It’s your account. I spent the morning making contacts with my local accounts, like I do every year on this day.”