Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(98)

There was a lot to go over with that, so I started with the least surprising considering the Hubbles were Christmas fiends, they’d been my clients for six years, and they’d demanded their décor, inside and out, get more elaborate with each passing year.

“The Hubbles are actually having outlets installed for their decorations?” I asked.

“Totally,” she answered. “And I told them the outlet should go between the door and the first window. We can string together the three window wreaths and come the other way from the door wreath and use that outlet. The balcony swags and lights are good, there’s an outlet up there. But I think another one under the eaves at the back side of the house—”

I interrupted her. “Justine.”

“Right here.”

“Babe,” I started softly. “It means a lot you kicked in. Like I explained, I’m going to pay you and I have this magnificent present for you from Paris. But, girl, I’m back. Things got extreme with Logan but in the end in a good way. That’s... I’ll explain later... but it’s good. Take care of Raff. Get back to your life. You don’t have to take my back anymore.”

“But I dig this.”

I stared at my desk.

“And the Hubbles are a hoot. The Mays are plum loco and totally hilarious. It’s not even Thanksgiving and it feels like Christmas, which is awesome. And that Barbie woman who we’re doing the sweet sixteen party for her daughter is super nice. She loves all my ideas. I don’t get to be creative working as a part-time PA for an accountant. Hell, I don’t even get to be creative with Raff since he can barely talk; he certainly can’t use a crayon.”

I heard her words.

But I kept staring at my desk.

I worked a lot because I didn’t have a life.

I also worked a lot because I liked my work.

Further, I worked a lot because I wanted to succeed. I’d been a driven person since I was a little kid. I won the spelling bee (three times). I’d been the freshman class secretary, the sophomore class vice president, and class president my junior and senior years.

There was more.

I did it quiet but I did it because it was something I did. It was just who I was.

Last, I worked because I liked to make money. It was only me (before a few days ago) who would enjoy my beautiful home, my beautiful clothes, but they were both things that gave me some of the little happiness I had.

And I had this happiness because I’d worked for it. I’d earned it. Me. Only me. All me.

Not to mention, in the times that were low, which were a fair few, I had visions (and thus started making plans years ago) of having a retirement where I did all the things I didn’t do along the way. Have fabulous parties. Travel. Take art classes or whatever struck my fancy to spend my time relaxing, looking after me, having fun.

But the last few days had happened.

My life had changed.

I had money in the bank. Money in savings. A healthy retirement account. A healthier investment portfolio. And I’d taken a fifteen-year mortgage on my house, which meant it’d be paid off in only four years. This last didn’t even take into consideration how much equity I had in the house, not only because of property values increasing but also because of all the work I’d done to it.

And I had a thriving business. At least once a month, but usually more often, I had to refer clients to other planners because Claire and I couldn’t take on more work. That year I’d also had to refuse two new Christmas clients because I just didn’t have the time. Not with only me and Claire doing the work.

However, if I expanded my human resources, I might be able to take on a few more clients to increase revenue and shift some of my work to Claire, who so could do it and would so love the raise she’d get with it. She then could shift some of her work to a new employee.

Justine worked twenty-five hours a week. She was smart. Loyal. Creative. Full of personality. Over the years she’d kicked in a variety of times just to help or for extra cash when I’d needed her for events. And I would absolutely not mind if Rafferty was with her when she worked, so she could save on day care.

She’d be perfect.

“Hellooooo,” she called in my ear. “Did I lose you?”

“I need to change my life,” I announced.

“No duh,” she replied. “You were on the road to recovery but now that Logan’s back, you gotta step that up, sistah. He’s low maintenance, as dudes go, but I don’t see him wiling away the hours in your awesome but very girlie pad, watching Easy Rider and waiting for you to come home after you make sure the DJ plays all the right songs at some chick’s sweet sixteen.”

My pad was very girlie.

And it was so not Logan.

Oh man.

I couldn’t think of that.

I had to stay on target.

“Babe, this is personal, but how much do you make at your job?”

“Sixteen an hour,” she answered instantly, then went on, “Which is ridiculous, but it’s the only place I could find that would do part-time and be cool when I had to take off to see to Raff because Ronnie can’t do that at her job.”

I did quick calculations in my head, the extra clients I could take on, the raise I’d need to offer Claire with giving her more responsibility.

I should pull up my accounts. Do it correctly. Make absolutely certain I could swing it, for me, for Claire, for Justine.