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Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.
Juniper narrowed her eyes and spun on her heels. Happyfuckingthoughts.
Right. Her schedule.
Worry about what you can control.
“Booking advertising for fall wedding season, meeting with owners of a possible new location venue, and dinner with myself watching Veronica Mars reruns.”
Suitably satisfied, she canceled out negative thoughts with positive vibes, Juniper made a mental note to order her favorite lime pie from the bakery down the street.
“Let’s get started, I guess.” Advertising. If she didn’t get some heavy hitters through her doors and pronto, like yesterday, she wouldn’t have to worry about to-do lists and ordering in. She’d have no shop to speak of and all the time she could handle on her hands.
Vows from Juniper was coming up on its first anniversary. By sheer luck and lots of tears and determination, the doors were still open. But for how long? Gretchen’s wedding was sure to bring her some business but would it have staying power? And if so, for how long? With how celebrities divorced like they were changing their shade of lipstick, nothing was guaranteed.
To help save money and grease the wheels for some recommendations from Gretchen, Juniper had cut expenses, taken less pay, and forewent travel expenses. All in the scheme of landing higher paying clients by way of Gretchen. Risky, but it had to work.
Back in her office, Juniper flipped through a stack of bills on her desk. Most were for her clients, phone, light. She tossed each one into its designated rack for her assistant to take care of.
She froze mid-toss.
A bright red envelope? With her bank’s name on it? With shaky fingers, she pried open the flap and pulled the single leaf of paper from its hold.
She read over the letter three times. Each pass as horrible as the last.
How could this be? What? Her bank manager had said sixty days. Not fourteen days.
She tossed her cinnamon roll in the trash and started looking for her book of phone numbers.
Why didn’t she keep all her contacts in her phone like all other smart people? No, she had to go old-school. What if someone stole her phone or she lost it? Then where would she be?
Stupid.
“Where the hell is that number?”
It had to be here somewhere.
A flash of red caught her eye. She snatched the leather-bound book from a mountain of papers and flipped to the pages until she came to the one she needed.
Panic wound through her and had her hand shaking around the phone’s receiver.
No answer. “What time is it?” she muttered as she looked at the clock.
Ugh.Of course.Another hour to suffer through before the bank opened and she could get some damn answers.
She sighed and slumped back in her chair, unable to enjoy the bright cloudless sky anymore.
Unless some miracle walked through her doors in the next twelve hours, the only thing she could expect to be doing this summer was packing.
The bells of Big Ben broke the silence and Juniper dug her phone out of her coat pocket.
“I wondered how long it would take you to call.”
“Yeah well, my spidey senses tingled. What’s up? Something wrong? Do you need me to come in early?”
“No,” Juniper lied. No need to cry just yet. Her banker just made a mistake. She would straighten it out later.
“Hm-hm. I know that tone. Some bridezilla giving you trouble? Or is it a pushy groom this time? I can do my eyeliner in the car and be there in twenty.”
