Page 176 of The Holiday Clause
“And you’re incredibly chatty. Yoga’s about quieting the mind.”
He chuckled with complete disregard. “I’ll work on that.”
When poses became challenging, he stood. “You know, Wren, I’ve been thinking.”
“We still have poses left.”
Ignoring her, he paced to the window. “There’s a real opportunity here. You have something special, but you’re bottlenecked by budget. Cash infusion could fast-track The Haven to full potential.”
Wren stayed in Warrior Two. “The Haven’s progressing at a comfortable pace.”
He laughed. “You can’t tell me you’re satisfied with only a few guests a week. You shouldn’t limit yourself. You could have a Haven in every major city.”
“I don’t think you understand my vision.”
“Spa retreats in Aspen. Bali. Global recognition.”
“With respect, I’m not interested. I’m interested in finishing this session.” She moved into tree pose. “Try to balance.”
“I’ll try to balance if you consider what I’m suggesting.”
She dropped her arms. “Greg, have you heard the parable about the fisherman and businessman?”
“Sounds like a joke. Is this the one with the pope and the life raft?”
“No. A businessman visits a fisherman. He sees the fisherman catching just enough fish for his family and asks why he doesn’t sell the extra fish he catches instead of tossing them back.”
“Fair question.”
A horrible screech of metal on metal erupted from outside, like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Wren ignored it. “The fisherman explains that he only needs enough for himself and his wife, but the businessman, refusing to listen, offers to buy the fisherman a bigger boat so he can give his wife a better life.”
“Smart.”
“The fisherman turns him down, claiming he’s already living his best life.”
“Some people just lack ambition.”
“The businessman couldn’t understand how the fisherman could be so content with so little. He didn’t realize that the fisherman was already living his best life, fishing by day, making love under the stars with his wife at night. You see, Mr. Drummond, I don’t need to build an empire to live a life of riches. I’m happy exactly where I am, here in my little studio tucked away in the woods of Hideaway Harbor.”
His forehead wrinkled with genuine confusion. “But you’re leaving so much money on the table.”
“It’s only money. Not everyone values the same riches.”
“Well, smart people do.”
She silently grinned, certain it was a fool who needed the last word. “I think our session’s finished.”
“We still have ten minutes.”
She shook her head. “That’s not enough time for you to change my mind. So unless you’re prepared to really take these poses seriously, I suggest moving on.”
His eyes narrowed. Greg Drummond was used to getting his way, but, when it came to difficult men, Wren had a lifetime of experience. She knew what she wanted and he wasn’t going to change her mind.
Grabbing his shoes, he left in a huff. She used the remaining hour to stretch out her tension.
Minutes later, the studio door creaked open and she looked up at Greyson, toolbelt slung low like a gunslinger’s holster. “Are you done thumping your big tools?”
