More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(22)
She had put most of her rapidly dwindling inheritance into this business. She would have very little left if it went bust. She felt a surge of nausea as anxiety set in and practiced the breathing techniques that had helped her through so many of her past panic attacks.
She tried to get her rapid heartbeat under control, keeping her breathing measured. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Everything would be fine. It had to be fine. She was vaguely aware of Charlie still chatting away while she packed up her stuff. Tina made affirmative little noises but kept her gaze glued to the screen in front of her, hoping the teen would think she was distracted by work.
Libby entered the office, and she and Charlie started chatting. Tina couldn’t hear what they were saying above the heavy, thundering beat of her heart and tried to swallow back the nausea as the tips of her fingers started to tingle, the unpleasant sensation of pins and needles racing down her arms from shoulders to fingertips. Her arms felt heavy and unresponsive.
Oh God! Please. Not now.
Libby didn’t know about Tina’s panic attacks, and she couldn’t succumb to one now. Not here, while there were still staff members about. It would undermine everything she was trying to achieve; it would strip her employees of any confidence they might have in her as a leader.
The thought made her heartbeat surge even more, and her steady breathing began to falter.
Stop this! It’s nothing. It’s nothing. You can get it under control.
GET YOURSELF TOGETHER, MARTINE!
The inner scream snapped her back to a semblance of normalcy. It didn’t often work, but this time it managed to drag her back from the precipice. The deafening beat of her heart started to recede, and she managed to catch bits and pieces of Libby’s conversation with Charlie. The girl was leaving.
“Sweet dreams, Clara. See you soon. Night, Mrs. Chapman. See you, Tina,” she called warmly as she left the room. Unable to speak yet, Tina raised her hand—grateful that she managed to move the heavy limb with so little effort—and waved.
“She’s sweet,” Tina said, forcing her thick tongue to move and grateful when the words came out sounding normal. She tugged her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly, hoping to ward off the migraine blossoming behind her eyes just a little longer. “God, I’m knackered.”
“Me too.” Libby sounded exhausted as she sank into the chair opposite Tina’s. “How did we do?”
“Just about broke even tonight,” Tina lied; she had no clue how they had done. She would take everything home and look through it later, after she’d knocked back a few painkillers and taken a long, relaxing bath. She was pretty certain they were in the red at the moment.
“It’ll get better,” Libby said, and Tina nodded, forcing a smile.
“It has to.”
“Tina.” Libby’s voice was soft and hesitant. “How much did you spend on this place? Renovations and rebranding included?”
She hadn’t asked before, and Tina wondered if the worry she was feeling was obvious. She smiled again, hoping to convince Libby of her sincerity. God knows, she didn’t want to transfer her anxiety onto her friend. Libby had more than enough going on right now.
“My inheritance more than covered it,” she said, trying to inject a certain amount of blasé into her voice. “It’s fine. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?” Libby prompted, and Tina struggled to find the right words.
“This is the first thing I’ve done—the first meaningful thing—and my parents are just waiting for me to fail. I know it. They think that I’m a total waste of space. Their flighty daughter, who could never hold down a job, trying to run a restaurant. Without any qualifications whatsoever. And, after the way I messed up with the banner and the ad . . . I’m starting to think they’re right.”
“Stop it,” Libby snapped, and the fierceness in her voice surprised Tina somewhat, drawing her out of her funk.
“What?” she asked blankly.
“Stop allowing what your parents think of you to influence the way you think about yourself. You can do this, Tina. We both can.”
Tina scrubbed her hands over her face and allowed herself one more deep sigh before lifting her gaze to Libby’s again.
“Yeah, maybe I can get another ad in the paper. That’s assuming they ever want to do business with me again. But if the townspeople really are as stubbornly loyal to the old MJ’s as Thandiwe thinks, then I’m not sure what it’ll take to lure them back.”
“Look, it’s only the first night. They have to drive thirty minutes to get to another halfway decent, affordable family restaurant. Or leave their kids at home and go to Ralphie’s for limp fish and chips or stale burgers. Soon, more than anything else, desperation for a good night out will have them coming back. Besides, a lot of them don’t even know we’re open, so we may be putting out fires that don’t even exist.”
“Maybe.” Tina nodded, unconvinced.
“Definitely. And Daff said she’d help us with some marketing.” Apparently Daffodil Carlisle—young Charlie’s sister-in-law—was the marketing and promotions manager for her husband’s three huge sporting-goods stores and had promised to work up a marketing strategy for MJ’s while she was on maternity leave. Tina wasn’t sure her husband was too thrilled about her offering to work while she was supposed to be resting, but the woman had complained of being bored at home while “waiting for the baby to drop.”