Page 80 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘Fine. Though it’s too late, anyway,’ she said.
‘Lil, I think that there are only a few people in the world who feel like they can’tnotdo something. That there’s this one thing that makes them feel truly alive.’
She stared at me for a moment then slowly nodded.
‘Yeah, I love it,’ she said. ‘But sometimes, like right now, I just really wish I didn’t. I wish I wanted to have a good-enough job and then like... play pickleball on the weekend.’
‘I understand that there are practical realities. You have a kid, you and Aaron have to pay for childcare and all of Arlo’s... nappies and mush.’
‘He doesn’t eat mush anymore,’ Lily said, smiling for the first time.
‘Not really my point,’ I said, smiling back. ‘I’m not minimising rental payments, emergency savings, electricity bills and dentist trips. I get that you have to do what you have to do for your family. But I’m really good at thinking through problems. And before you totally give up on the thing that makes you spark, and that I suspect makes you a better partner and mum... let’s go through all the numbers? Just in case.’
‘Okay,’ she said, and I felt the energy in the room shift.
We spent the whole day, when there weren’t customers in the store, going through years of paperwork. I searched throughendless drawers of questionable filing to find the relevant numbers that I needed to plug into my Excel spreadsheet. I wished, as I tried to remember the models that had come as naturally to me as breathing in my first few years as a consultant, that I had Lucas there to do the heavy lifting.
By the end of the day, I’d pulled together a good snapshot of Lily’s business. Lily had been quiet all day. I knew how vulnerable she would be feeling – I was doing the business equivalent of rifling in her lingerie drawer. I also had the experience to know how to make her feel okay about it.
Lily closed the store at 5 pm. Without asking, she poured us both a glass of wine.
‘So . . .?’
‘Obviously, I need to spend more time looking over everything – but I think you might have options.’
‘Really?’ she asked. I could hear a trace of hope infiltrate her voice.
‘Yeah. So, let’s start with the bad news: you’re right that the shop has to go. The rent has gone up, staffing costs have gone up. The numbers don’t work for being a bricks-and-mortar business.’
I saw her swallow, but she didn’t let her face betray any emotion. ‘Okay,’ she said.
‘But most of your revenue doesn’t come through the store. You sell quite a bit online,’ I said.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ Lily said slowly.
‘And your highest margins are on your cheaper products and also your custom designs,’ I said.
‘With the less-expensive stuff, I do the design then get them manufactured. And people don’t mind paying a premium for their engagement rings or birthstone rings or whatever.’
‘Exactly. If you were fully online and focused on high-volume less-expensive products and then used your studio at home formeeting clients and making bespoke pieces – I think it could still be a really viable business,’ I said.
I turned my laptop around and showed her the projected revenue range I’d modelled. ‘Obviously, these numbers aren’t a promise. Just my best guesstimate,’ I said. ‘Whatever you do next is totally up to you. And Aaron. But this is just... more information to help you make the decision for how you want to live your life.’
‘Right,’ Lily said. Colour had returned to her face, like she was preparing to reawaken a part of herself that she’d consigned to the grave. ‘You’re really good at this.’
‘I have a brain that knows how to absorb large amounts of information quickly and sort it all out. It’s made me really good at my job. But... maybe not so good at life.’
On Tuesday, the last beach day, I woke up in Mum’s guest room to a message from Miranda.
Do you have time for a chat later today?
She’d phrased it as a question, but it wasn’t really. I hauled myself into the shower, into a suit and then onto a tram to the city, my stomach swirling the whole time.
I walked slowly across the floor, taking it all in. This place had felt like my home for nearly a decade. All my colleagues, across the many teams I’d been part of, had been my people.
I knew that there was every chance that Alex had turned up to ATG on Monday, all guns blazing, ripping up his contract, broadcasting his visions of vengeance, employment lawyers in tow. If so, this would be my last day in this office.
‘Miranda?’ I knocked on her office door and she waved me in.
