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I make a bullet point and type in the words.
“What kids? Girls, boys, or both? What ages? Physical activities, creative ones, other?”
My fingers fly over the keys as he gives me the prompts I need to get my wheels turning. Under each header I create he tosses out ideas for some of the things that should be on the list, and within about ten minutes my page is full of potential options.
Resting his arm on the booth behind my back, Deacon leans forward to better read the screen. “It might be good to write down potential partners for the things you can’t teach yourself.” He points to music as an example, which I’m not qualified to offer myself, but which some kids might want.
“Good idea.” I surround the text in yellow so I know to come back to it later, doing the same for other items on the list where I’ll have to make referrals. “Now what?”
The corner of his lip tugs up. “You make a plan for what services the business will provide and who will provide them. Then you identify the number of potential customers and come up with a plan to market your services to them. And you’ll need to show what it will cost to run and how you’ll make money.”
I swallow audibly, my earlier excitement waning. “I don’t know how to do any of that.”
“We talked about this, remember?” His voice is quiet near my ear. “You were going to consolidate all the available options into one directory. A website.”
“Yes, but I don’t know how to build a website.”
“You don’t have to know how to build it to identify the information it should include. This right here,” he points to my list, “is what you’ll have on the site. Imagine you were the parent looking for this list, what information would you want to see? That’s your content. As for customers, school enrollment is a great place to get numbers for the size of your market. Focus on those two things and then I’ll help you move on to the next steps, okay?”
He makes it sound so simple, though his calm reassurance has me feeling much less anxious than I was when he first rattled off the to-do list. I let myself look at him then, wanting to express my gratitude, but I have to avert my eyes the second they meet his deep blue ones so I don’t get sucked into their depths.
“When?” It’s barely more than a whisper, said more to my computer than to him.
Deacon lifts his coffee cup to his mouth, just enough to camouflage his words. “Tonight.”
Finishing his drink, he rises and reaches for my empty cup. “Looks good so far. Let me know if you have any other questions.” This time his voice is loud enough for anyone in earshot to hear, and with a quick nod he turns for the door, depositing our empty mugs on the counter before he exits.
Though there’s only a few people here, I can feel their curiosity, wondering what it is Deacon helped me with. I pretend not to notice, burying my nose in my computer and adding notes about what details I need to include for the content. They’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure, but I owe it to Lennon to tell her before I share my plans with anyone else.
Ten minutes before my shift at Murphy’s I pack up and head out, feeling confident that any gossip will focus on what I was doing, not who I was doing it with. That lasts for all of two minutes.
“I heard you had coffee with Deacon today?” Lennon’s on me the second I walk through the door.
My jaw drops open. “How do you know that already? I literally came straight here.”
“We were low on sugar packets, so I popped into Nona’s Market for more, and her friend Grace had just seen you two through the window when she was passing by.” She shrugs as if to sayyou know how it goes.“What’s the story? I hope you have a good one ready for Cade.”
I roll my eyes at the mention of my honorary older brother. I love him but… “I don’t need a story. I was getting a coffee, Deacon saw me there and sat down. Friends do that.”
“Friends, yes. Grace seemed to think you looked more than friendly though. She said his arm was around you.”
“Ugh. His arm was resting on the back of the booth while he leaned over to look at my laptop.” I stalk toward the employee break room to stash my things, panicking that this little misconception will lead Deacon to put the brakes on our—whatever we’re doing—before it starts.
“Why was he looking at your laptop? Why did you even have your laptop with you?” Lennon cocks her head to the side.
“About that.” I sigh heavily. “I kind of had an idea for a business. It’s just an idea so don’t freak out or anything, but I had the laptop so I could make some notes. Deacon could tell I was a little unsure about where to start and he offered to help.”
“Okay, A—why would I freak out about your idea and B—why would you ask Deacon for help? I’m kind of an expert on business.” She waves her arm to showcase the room around her.
“IfI pursue this—and that’s a big if at this point—but if I do, it’d eventually mean leaving Murphy’s. And I didn’t plan to ask Deacon for help; he was just there and offered.”
“Tiff.” Lennon’s shoulders sag. “You know I’d keep you forever if that’s what you wanted. If it’s not, I’d never stand in your way.”
“I don’t know what I want.” I hook a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love working here. It’s just that I love teaching dance more, and I have an idea that may give me more opportunity to do that. One where I get to be my own boss.”
“Then you should explore that.” She nods her head firmly.
“What about Murphy’s? It took a long time for you to feel comfortable trusting it to me when you’re gone, and if I leave then what will you do?”
