I nod slowly. Not surprised. “People act like having your life together is boring. But because I prioritize stability and mental health, I’m not considered fun.”
I almost tell her exactly howfunher brother thinks I am, but I bite my tongue.
“What did you come here to ask?” I say, softer now.
“I realized … I’m in over my head.”
I almost snort. “You think?”
But she keeps going, steadier now.
“I know you don’t think I’m ready. And you’re probably right. But I know my customer base. I know what they expect in a salon: products, service, vibe. I just don’t know the back end. The business side.”
She reaches into her oversized designer tote and pulls out a thick stack of papers.
“A product plan. Sample service menus. Mock-ups of invoices. Front desk experience plans.”
I flip through it, skimming. It’s … good. Better than I expected.
“This is solid, Holly. But what do you want from me? Mybeauty routine consists of knockoff cleanser and drugstore SPF.”
“I need help with the business plan.”
I deadpan. “Isn’t that Mandy’s department? Her ‘expertise’?”
Holly's eyes drop to her hands. “I … I think her experience might’ve been overstated.”
“You’ve known her since you were fifteen. What experience did you think she had? Flirting for tips as a beer cart girl? Didn’t her dad fire her from the country club for being too handsy with the members?”
“I know, I know,” she says quickly. “But I wanted to impress her. I always have.”
She pauses, then adds, quieter, “When I told her I wanted to start my own salon someday, she lit up. A week later, she said she’d found a property developer and a location. Said we had to jump on it. Had to get Sam involved. It all moved so fast. I thought she’d handle the logistics—leases, hiring, paperwork. She promised she would.”
“And you just believed her?”
“She was the cheer captain. I was the awkward little sister. She gave me a ride home from Sam’s game once, and I was thrilled.” She hesitates. “I … don’t remember much from the accident, but she texted me every day during recovery. Showed up. Made me feel like I finally belonged. Still does."
I nod once; that explains a lot. “Holly, I get it. But you can’t let someone being there for you once dictate your entire future. Especially not when you’re the one whose name is on the lease.”
She swallows. “I know. I checked last week. She and Rick … they’re not on it. Just me.”
I lean back. That’s not good. “You’re the only one legally tied to this?”
She nods. “She said once the salon takes off, she wants to be the face of our brand. Build her own beauty line. Get close to the right people.” She hesitates. “She said being around Sam—his clients, his connections—could help with that.”
I roll my eyes. Of course she did.
“Holly,” I say, gentler, “you have a shot at something. But you need to protect yourself. Get the numbers. Start treating this likeyourbusiness.”
She nods eagerly. “What do I need to pull?”
“Service menu pricing, supplier costs, startup expenses, three-month runway, projected revenue, breakeven point. Come back with that, and I’ll help you build a plan.”
“Thank you!” she says, lighting up like I handed her a lifeline.
“And Becca …” she adds, more serious now. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about the loan. Mandy said we needed to push Sam immediately. Said we had to move fast to secure the property and work with Rick.”
“That’s not the point,” I say. “I expected my husband to treat me like a partner, not an afterthought.”
