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“More importantly, how’s the cosmetics world?”
What would I do without this family?
I gave him a shy smile. “I have news,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
The room stopped. Even Ella was quiet, her attention on me.
“Juniper wants 1000 glosses, 500 blushes, and 500 shadows.”
Trish shrieked. “Baker, that’s terrific.”
“Didn’t she just order a couple hundred of the gloss?” Andrew asked.
“Already gone.” My chest puffed out a little.
Because of Juniper’s interest, I'd moved up the timeline to have everything tested. They were perfectly safe. And Hayden had helped me get my company legally set up . . . with Patrick’s and Andrew’s help. I was so grateful I had people to look out for me.
Mrs. Quinn hugged me. “So proud of you, my dear.”
“When do Ella and I need to report for duty?” Mr. Dixon saluted.
“I’ll let you know as soon as the supplies come in.” Though I had no idea where I was going to produce all of these things. My setup in the apartment wasn’t nearly big enough to handle making larger quantities.
Trish slung an arm around my shoulders. “I hate to add to the pressure, but I’m out too.”
I slipped my arm around her waist. “You get preferential treatment. First customer and all.”
She winked at me, and I winked back.
“I’ll print more labels,” Cricket said softly.
“Hey,” I said, startled. She was a phantom, appearing and disappearing at will. “That would be great. Oh, and she liked the new packaging you came up with. I showed her a sample this afternoon.”
Cricket blushed. “I can get what you need by this weekend.”
“Let me know how much and I’ll give you the money.”
She shrank back into the kitchen without another word.
“Who’s hungry?” Mr. Dixon practically glowed, completely in his element with his family around.
“Me.” I raised my hand, silly after the spectacular day I'd had.
Funny, the first person I’d wanted to call with the news wasn’t in this room. Or this city, for that matter. I’d almost broken down and done it, but I still needed the first move to be his.
After dinner,we did the dishes and gathered in the living room. The television was on, but muted in the background. Mr. Dixon sat in his chair. Mrs. Quinn took the matching one next to him. Trish and Andrew sank onto the love seat, while Cricket and I settled in on the sofa opposite them.
Andrew’s phone buzzed with a text. Lines creased his forehead as his fingers flew across the screen.
“Big client?” Mr. Dixon pointed his chin at the phone.
He slipped it back into his pocket. “I talked to Marlow,” he blurted.
“Was that her?”
“No. It was a few days ago.” Trish placed a hand on his thigh. “It didn’t go well.”
His father tightened his fingers around the stem of the wine glass. “It didn’t go well when I spoke to her either.”
