Page 30 of The Overtime Persuasive

She looks at the rows of boxes waiting to be packed, her face pinching. “How long will it take?”

“That depends on how organized your spreadsheet is.” I glance at the screen again. “Annoyingly, in a good way, it’s very organized.”

“Well, that’s a win.” She drags another chair over and sits beside me.

Close beside me.

Close enough that the sleeve of her sweater brushes my arm when she reaches for the trackpad, and a subtle hit of lemons mixed with figs and cedar wafts my way. Immediately every business-related thought disappears from my head.

Eva taps my arm. “Liam?”

Before she notices I’m leaning closer just to smell her again, I turn my attention back to the spreadsheet and open a new tab.

We start with the amount she currently has in the bank, then move every expense into the week it will actually be paid. The twenty-four-hundred-dollar down payment lands in the first week. The next round of books, records, candles, and packaging has to be ordered before she knows how many subscribers will renew. The first city installment arrives alongside her regular supplier invoices, utilities, insurance, and loan payment.

Then we add the dates her store revenue, online orders, and subscription payments should reach her account.

Without an employee, the numbers remain tight but safely above the amount Eva has highlighted in red—the money she’s explicitly marked for emergencies only.

I duplicate the forecast. “Now we add the employee.”

Eva nods, giving me the hourly rate and expected weekly schedule. I add the wages and payroll costs, then carry them through all thirteen weeks. The numbers stay healthy at first. I can feel Eva’s mood lifting.

Then the inventory payment clears.

Another city installment follows. Payroll keeps coming every other week, whether the boxes sell or not. By the tenth week, the remaining cushion has thinned considerably. By the thirteenth, it’s uncomfortably close to the red line.

She studies the screen. “So I can afford the assessment and an employee.”

“Yes.”

“But doing both now leaves me one bad month away from using my emergency fund.”

“That’s the risk.” I point to the weeks where the balance drops fastest. “If you wait six to eight weeks before hiring, you give the boxes time to prove they can maintain these numbers. You also give yourself time to recover from the down payment.”

She turns to me. “But that assumes nothing changes.”

“Exactly.”

“The boxes could keep growing.”

“They could. And if they do, you hire sooner.” I glance at her. “But they could also slow down.”

Her gaze moves across the forecast again. “So what are you saying?”

“You can afford to hire someone.” I point to the remaining balance. “However, you can’t afford to hire someone and be wrong about the boxes.”

She turns, looking at me, her eyes a little wild as she takes it all in and digests what I’ve said. Being this close to her, it’s off-putting and thrilling at the same time, so I focus on the spreadsheet before I forget what we’re talking about.

“I’m not your accountant,” I add. “But if you need one, I can refer you.”

“First a business degree.” Eva stares at me. “Now you have an accountant, too.”

“Having a business degree is how I knew I needed an accountant,” I say with a chuckle, stepping away from the computer. “You should run this past whoever handles your taxes before you make any decisions. But if this were mine, I’d delay the hire for six to eight weeks. Track renewals, work out the real profit on each box, then look at it again.”

“Six to eight more weeks of doing everything myself.”

“We both know Lucy will be here if she can, and, hey, I can help too.”