Maggie’s expression made it clear she didn’t believe Louisa. And rightfully so. The old woman had always had a knack for seeing straight through her.
“I’m fine,” Louisa protested. “And I have a lot of work to do.”
“I called Alyssa,” Maggie said. “She’s handling everything.”
Alyssa Martin was perfectly competent. Her best friend and business partner could handle most of what needed to be done for the upcoming anniversary party, but it would be missing Louisa’s special touch.
That couldn’t be bottled or duplicated. It was the magic she strived to create for every single client. It was what people always told her after an event: “You have such a way of making everything so magical.”
It was probably a point of pride, but it mattered to Louisa. “I need to be there,” she groaned.
“You can take a day.”
“I own the business,” Louisa said. “It’s my responsibility.”
“You have a very good partner who is eager to help, given the fact that you nearly drowned this morning.” Maggie did nothing to hide her irritation.
Louisa had started her private concierge business a year ago, after spending five years as the concierge at one of Nantucket’s prestigious boutique hotels. That job had given her connections, and one day Louisa realized she didn’t want to spend her time simply catering to rich people. She wanted to make the island—and all it had to offer—accessible to everyone.
She wanted to create magic for as many people as possible.
That’s when The Good Life was born.
The idea had come to her the way all ideas did—fast and furious. She’d spent the night scribbling feverishly in her notebook, trying to keep up with the flow of possibilities. She’d gone to work the next morning exhausted but energized—and ready to hand in her resignation.
Of course, Eric was the first person she told. He wasn’t only the hotel manager; he was her boyfriend, her best friend—she’d thought. And while he’d miss having her at the hotel, mostly he’d be thrilled for her because, naturally, he’d realize he hadn’t seen her this excited about something before.
Louisa had stood in the doorway of his office, wearing a grin like the Cheshire cat, but Eric barely seemed to notice she was there.
Finally, after she cleared her throat twice, he looked up. “You’re late this morning.”
She waved him off. “I need to talk to you.”
He frowned. “Louisa, are you having one of your big-idea days?”
She hated when he did that—made her feel small for being excited. He sometimes told her she wasn’t acting professionally or like an adult should act. Usually in the moments when she was feeling spontaneous or adventurous. Eric was neither of those things.
Most of the time she’d done a good job of holding back that side of herself, but at the moment, it was hard to pretend she wasn’t excited about her new plan. She was ecstatic! She was about to do something brave and amazing!
“I do have an idea,” she said, trying not to let his attitude curb her enthusiasm. She sat across from him, on the opposite side of his desk, noticing it was neat and well-ordered. Everything in its place. By contrast, her desk was more what she referred to as “organized chaos.”
It made her wonder what it would be like to live in a house with Eric. He’d probably be horrified at the sports bras hanging from her closet doorknob.
“I’ve got a meeting in five minutes—can this wait?”
She must’ve looked sad because he reached across the desk and took her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. What’s your idea?”
“You sure?”
He focused his attention completely on her now. “Yes. I’m positive.”
She smiled, then explained her plan for The Good Life. She even had a rough sketch of a logo. She laid out a mess of loose papers, all the ideas that had poured out of her the night before, as if a creative dam had broken inside her.
It had been ages since she’d had that kind of creative burst. Everything about it felt right. But afterward, everything about working for the hotel felt wrong.
“I think I need to give you my two weeks’ notice.”
Eric leaned back in his chair and looked her over for a brief moment. “Don’t you think that’s a little rash?”
“No,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Louisa, you can’t quit your job to start a business. What about your mortgage? You just bought that house.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ll figure it out. I don’t want a safety net. I want to make this work. And we’ll still work together. I’ll still refer people here.”
His laugh bore an edge of condescension.
“What?”
He shook his head. “No, nothing.”
“Eric.”
“It’s just another one of your ideas,” he said. “I don’t think starting a business is something you just jump into.”
“Well, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said. “I’ve been doing this job here for the last five years.”
“Right,” he said. “You’re really good at it. But numbers and marketing and finding clients and paying taxes—how are you going to keep up with all that?”
Her heart sank. She hadn’t thought of that.
“Maybe just work on it in your free time, and when you have a solid business plan, you can move forward. You know, once you know you’re not going to fall flat on your face.”
She felt like a kite that had just lost its lift. “Right,” she whispered. Her eyes had filled with tears at the reminder of who she was—a woman people didn’t take seriously. Oh, that’s Louisa. She’s quirky.
And she was. She knew it. But that didn’t mean she was incompetent.
Eric obviously disagreed.
“It’s a good idea, Lou,” he said. “Let’s talk about it more later. Maybe I can help with your business plan.”
But all she heard was You can’t do this—or anything else—without me.
She’d left his office in a daze, the wind stolen from her sails. She hadn’t fallen apart, which was major progress, but the idea had lost its luster.
It still hurt to think about it now, the way he’d dismissed her so flippantly. Somehow she’d found the courage to move forward with her idea. It took a couple more weeks of realizing The Good Life wouldn’t leave her alone. Then a conversation or two with Ally and a very pointed kick in the pants from Maggie, but she eventually started to believe in herself.
When she gave her notice at the hotel, she told Eric they were over. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me.”
He’d protested, of course, because he never wanted to look like the bad guy, but she knew it was the right thing.
She needed to find someone who supported her dreams, who thought her adventures were fun and intriguing, who didn’t find the flaws in every single idea she had. That person might not exist, so for the time being, romance was not a priority. It hurt too much to realize someone wasn’t who you thought they were. Besides, she was doing just fine on her own.