Page 8 of All's Well that Friends Well

I wish she would leave me alone?—

A loud knock sounds at the door.

And I swear, I’m so irritated, so tired, that my stomps down the stairs can probably be heard by the neighbors. I stomp my way to the front door, too, and open it so forcefully that it ricochets off the door stop.

“Listen up,” I growl. “This has to stop. I don’t want to—to—” But I falter into silence when I recognize the person on my front porch.

It’s not Juliet Marigold. In fact, it’s not a Marigold at all. It’s Rodney Ring, gray hair and everything—still imposing despite his curved, aging back and stooped shoulders. His dress shirt and slacks are immaculately clean and pressed, and he smells faintly of aftershave, but his wiry brows are pulled low into a scowling frown as he eyes me.

“Get that look off your face when you’re talking to me,” he barks, stepping inside without invitation. He nudges past me. “And don’t let me see it again.”

My mouth snaps shut while I smooth the irritation from my features, which invites a dry bark of laughter.

“Glad you still have the sense to listen,” he calls over his shoulder as he shuffles down the hall and around the corner, into the kitchen.

I remove my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose as a headache begins to bloom. I love Rodney. In fact, he’s one of the few people I can say with certainty that Idolove. He’s my business partner, but more than that, he’s like a father to me, or maybe like a grandfather—and despite his gruff demeanor, I know he would take a bullet for me without hesitation.

But if he’s here visiting me personally and without warning, it means I’m in trouble.Bigtrouble.

I begin combing through the last few months in mymind, trying to figure out if I’ve done anything objectivelywrongat work. I’ve fired a few inefficient employees, but Rodney would do the same. I’ve handed out some stern words, a few warnings, even put a couple people on probation—but once again, that’s why Rod brought me to the Lucky branch in the first place: to whip things into shape.

Am I a little harsh? Maybe. But I get the job done, and in a work environment like the Lucky office where everyone is buddy-buddy, I keep a firm distance from any would-be friends, too.

I follow Rodney to the kitchen and find him lowering himself into one of the wooden chairs at the table; I go to help him so he doesn’t fall, but he elbows me away.

“I’ll take a glass of water,” he says instead. It’s not a question. I retrieve it for him immediately, because his hypertension has caused dehydration in the past, and I need him to stay healthy for as long as possible.

It’s partly an altruistic desire, but part of it is selfish, too. I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t have Rod. I don’t want to work at a company like Explore when I don’t have him, either.

Explore is his brainchild, his baby, and it started when I was just a kid. Rodney and my dad were best friends, but he kept in touch long after my parents passed, eventually taking me on after I graduated college. Although we’re not a pair to talk about our feelings, I know we both appreciate having someone we trust by our sides, especially in a company that has expanded as much as Explore has. What started as a small startup in Denver has now made its way to tons of Colorado towns, even those as small as Lucky.

Rod chose Lucky as an office location for his outdoor equipment company because the real estate was cheaperthan cheap. While there is a storefront on the bottom floor that actually rents and sells larger equipment—bikes, kayaks, and canoes mostly—the second floor is an administrative space working to coordinate operations with some of the smaller towns in the area. We’ve worked with the local government to bring electric scooters to town as well, which ultimately benefits the tourism we see.

The more Explore has grown, though, the more it’s become subject to internal politics and influences. It’s on its way to a more official culture, more businesslike, and I don’t love the change.

Rodney downs his glass of water in five seconds flat before setting the glass down on the wooden table and turning his grizzled gaze on me. I can see it in his eyes: I’ve pissed someone off.

“What?” I say, even before he’s told me. My voice is more defensive than it should be, considering I don’t even know the problem yet.

“Did you know that someone from corporate came to visit your branch last week?” he finally says.

I scoff at this, because “corporate” is a relative term. Is Explore growing as a company? Yes. But is it public? Do we have thousands upon thousands of employees all over the country? Are the headquarters in a New York skyscraper? No.

“I didn’t see anyone,” I say.

“It was Fuller,” Rodney goes on, ignoring my skeptical noise—which might get even louder at this news. Fuller is the company’s head of merchandising, and we don’t get along very well. He’s got a superiority complex that makes me want to scream; he thinks I’m too young for the position I’m in, too close to Rodney, and he’d love to leave behind thesmall business mindset Rod has worked so hard to maintain. He thinks Rod is a fool for keeping things as hometown and personal as he has.

“I put up with him because he’s good at his job,” Rod says now, shooting me alook. “But ever since I sent you here, he’s been waiting for a reason to pull you out and install someone he thinks is better suited here in Lucky.”

“Somehelikes, you mean.”

Rod shrugs. “He gives me regular earfuls about shifting directions, and I know he would love an inconsequential petri dish like Lucky to test a few things.”

“So tell him no,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re in charge.”

Another shrug from Rod, slower this time. “I won’t be around forever. If the majority wants a change, we’ll end up changing anyhow. There’s some sense in what Fuller wants—what some of the others are pushing for.”

I just grit my teeth at this. More mass-produced stock, cheaper for us because of the lower quality; that’s what Fuller and some of the rest want. They want to get rid of relationships with smaller local businesses we have in place, switching instead to giant wholesalers. I understand the appeal on a surface level, but I’m not sure I agree with the idea as a whole.

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