“Yeah. Shocked the hell out of me. Willow wants to hire me to organize her orders, both when they come in, and when they’re done. She wants me to box them up and ship them out. She also wants me to travel to Seattle, and talk with the woman who’s working for her on the retail end of her business.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Apparently this woman, Trish, in Seattle, takes Willow’s product to several small, rustic artist shops. Just this past weekend her designs were featured in a gallery and all her product was sold. It’s going to be on display all month, and the gallery owner is still taking orders.”
“Basically, you’ll be in charge of Willow’s life so that she can just make her designs. Take the everyday, mundane life out of her hands so she can work.”
“Yes.” She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. “She told me to talkit over with you. This is what she’s offering to pay me a week. Along with travel expenses. The only thing she can’t offer is health insurance, but I told her that it was okay because I still have your military insurance. I want you to look at this and tell me if it’d be a good idea. I haven’t looked at it.” She handed the paper to her husband and smiled when he took it, and she couldn’t read his expression as he looked at it. Totally blank.
“Okay, this.” He held up the paper. “This is a weekly salary?”
“Yes. But I imagine it would be minus taxes, but that’s what my baseline would be.”
“And she’ll pay your travel expenses in addition to this?”
“Yes.” Gypsy frowned at him.
“In addition to that, you’ll be living right next door so you won’t have to commute, you won’t have to buy gas, have wear and tear on your car, or sit in traffic.”
“Correct. And with me living upstairs, we won’t have the rent and utilities from this place so we can save that much more. I’m hoping with that, I’ll be able to continue with the mortgage payments on the shop while you’re gone. Especially with the money we’ll save by moving and me not commuting.”
“Babe, before I say anything else, I have one question for you.”
“What?”
“What is your gut reaction to Willow?”
“I like her. I mean really like her. When I think of Willow, I immediately think of a little sister. I don’t know her whole story, but I trust her. And I really want to at least try to help her out.”
“Good. Because if you take the job one, it’ll make me feel better that you’re happy here when I’m deployed. I won’t have to worry about you. Two, with the money we save from this place that’ll pay the mortgage on the bike shop, so you won’t have to scrape by. Three, you’ll be working for a friend and like your job better. Four, with what she’s offering you we’ll be able to save a lot of money so that when I get back from my deployment if you’re still willing, we can start a family.”
“Really?” she laughed and lunged herself at him. “Why don’t we start now?”
Mick laughed and kissed her then set her aside when the doorbell rang. “Hold that thought, pizza’s here.” He went to answer the door, and Gypsy looked down at the paper he’d dropped. She picked it up and stared in shock at the numbers written there.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She shook the paper at him when he returned. “Weekly?”
“That’s what you said Willow said.”
“But holy hell, this is more than I made in a month at my old job.”
“I know. We can pay our bills and save in addition to everything else. If that number is true, then I won’t feel so bad about leaving you in the lurch. I know that you’ll be able to pay all of our bills while I’m deployed.” He grinned and put the pizza down on the table. He picked his wife up and kissed her hard. It was several hours later before they were able to eat the pizza and they laughed at their meal of cold pizza and warm wine. But Gypsy wouldn’t change their time together for anything.
Chapter 18
“Can I help you?” Amy Brown asked the smartly dressed woman as she entered the office.
“I have an appointment with Trish Bowers,” Gypsy said, and left it at that. She was a good judge of character, and something about the woman before her didn’t sit well. Maybe it was that she was filing her nails and applying makeup at her desk, but she got a bad vibe from the younger woman.
“Can I ask who you are?”
“Are you Ms. Bowers?”
“No, I’m Amy Brown. I can help you.”
“No, thank you. I have a meeting with Ms. Bowers.” Just then a woman came hurrying into the front office.
“Amy are you back from seeing your artists?”
