"I need to make some calls," she says, pulling out her phone.
"Brennen?"
"And Preston. And Ryan." She looks at the phone like it might bite her. "I've been avoiding decisions for a week. Time to actually make them."
"Want me to give you privacy?"
"No." She grabs my hand before I can move. "Stay. I need you here. And put it on speaker—I don't want to repeat myself."
I settle beside her as she dials Brennen and puts the phone on speaker.
"Emma! Are you okay? You were crying earlier and I've been worried sick?—"
"I'm fine, Brennen. I'm sorry I scared you." She takes a breath. "I vote to expand Celtic Knot."
Silence. Then: "What?"
"Expand. Buy the property. Chase your dream. Build something for the next generation."
"Emma—" His voice cracks. "Are you serious?"
"Completely serious. You've worked too hard to sell out now. Take the risk. I believe in you."
I hear what might be a sob on the other end. "Thank you. God, Emma, thank you. This means everything?—"
"I know. Now listen, I need to ask you something."
"Anything."
"Can you and Joselyn come over for breakfast tomorrow? Around nine?"
"Breakfast? Sure, but?—"
"Great. See you then." She hangs up before he can ask questions, then immediately dials Preston & Associates.
Mr. Preston answers professionally. "Emma! I was hoping to hear from you."
"I'm accepting the merger." She says it firmly, no hesitation. "I'll have the signed contract to you within the hour."
"That's wonderful news! We're thrilled to have you join the team."
"I have one additional request."
"Name it."
"I'm pregnant. A few weeks. I need confirmation that the maternity leave policy is as comprehensive as outlined in the benefits package."
There's a pause, then genuine warmth in his voice. "Congratulations, Emma. And yes, absolutely. Sixteen weeks paid, option for part-time return, full coverage. We'll make it work. That's a promise."
"Thank you."
"Welcome to Preston & Associates. I'll have HR reach out Monday to start the transition process."
She hangs up and immediately opens her laptop, pulling up the contract. Her fingers fly across the keyboard as she adds her electronic signature, attaches it to an email, and hits send.
"Done," she says, closing the laptop. "No going back now."
"How do you feel?"
