Page 70 of How Dare You
Allie’s mouth drops open in offense. “That’s ridiculous. Did you tell them the blog is bullshit?”
“I am not going to argue with people. Especially since this was something Bea spearheaded, and she’s the one who has been communicating with them.” The image of her face falling when she got the email yesterday comes to mind, and it breaks my heart all over again. “I feel awful that I dragged her into all this.”
Allie stands up straight, propping her hands on her hips. “You did not drag her into anything, and there is no way she thinks you did. You two are an unstoppable team. It’s going to be okay; I promise.”
I nod, forcing a smile. With each day that passes it feels less like that’s true, and I am finding I do not know how to come up with a contingency plan. I only know how to keep pushing until I’m successful. But what happens if I keep pushing, and I’m not successful?
Allie leaves to help a customer at the register. After a minute I hear her ask, “You’ve been living here for a while, haven’t you? That’s what I thought. I bet you’d know someone great for this. Do you know of anyone local who’s maybe kind of up and coming who blogs about Palm Springs?”
She is keeping her word, like I knew she would. So far, she’s found two local influencers who she set up meetings with later this week to talk about potential collaborations. One of them is even interested in doing a proper Women Entrepreneurs in Palm Springs article and interviewing us both. I’m not sure how much help it will be, but hopefully it’s a step toward improving the impossibly tarnished image of Friday West Interiors.
We’re down to two projects now. Peach Ridge, the remodel that Rhett’s rushing the cabinets for, and Calle Vista, the house that flooded this summer. I left a message for the homeowners but have not heard anything back yet. As far as I know the construction for the remodel is still on hold, and they still want to move forward with Friday West when the time comes.
It could have been anyone from the jobsite who shared the story with Trina or Nathalie, but I still don’t want to believe it was them. Alex, the GC, and his subcontractors work on almost all of Trina’s projects. Alex is not a particular fan of mine, but I cannot understand why he would have wanted to stoop so low. I send him work all the time.
An email pops up from the Sotos, the first family to hire me after I went out on my own and started Friday West. Their project has been complete for almost a year now. Maybe they are finally ready to get started on the bathroom remodel we discussed.
Devon,
In light of recent news, we are concerned with the longevity and quality of the work you did on our home. We believe you need to arrange and pay for an inspector to come by and double-check all the construction you supervised and also execute any changes they recommend at cost to Friday West. If you do not comply with our request in a timely manner, we will take that to mean you do not stand behind your work and will need to take further action.
Regards,
Don & Lena Soto
This is an absurd accusation and a complication I wasn’t expecting. Are all my past clients going to come back questioning the quality of my work now? My contracts are as solid as the quality of my work, so I know I will be able to fix this. But the Sotos’ project has always been special to me because it was the first one I did on my own, and now the relationship has been ruined.
Allie comes back over while I’m weighing my options. “Okay, so listen,” she starts, then catches the distraught look on my face, “Oh shit, Dev. What happened? Are you okay?”
“More of the same,” I answer, steeling myself with determination for the thousandth time. “But nothing I can’t handle.”
“Hmm,” she considers me. “Did I tell you your mom’s been calling me?”
Since I have not returned her calls, it is the next logical step. I shouldn’t be surprised. “Have you talked to her?”
She shakes her head. “I knew if she got me on the phone, she’d be able to pry every detail out of me, and I figure you want to be the one to talk to her. So, I sent her a text and told her I’m looking out for you and I’d let you know she called.”
Guilt twists a knot in my stomach. “Bet she did not respond well to that.”
“No, not at all.” Allie smiles, her voice bright. “She was super pissed. You probably should call her.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I will. Soon. Can we change the subject now please?”
“Yes!” Allie claps, then leans forward on the counter again. “I know you hate surprises, so I’m telling you right now that we’re planning something for your birthday. And before you complain,” she scrunches her nose, “just don’t complain. This is happening. Let it happen. How much do you want to know?”
I laugh, grabbing my planner. “Just the necessities.”
“It’s on your actual birthday, which is a Friday this year. Be ready at your house by four, and you should wear a cocktail dress.” She bounces on her toes, smiling brightly. “Sound good?”
I write the notes down in my planner and thank her again for being such a good friend. She’s added a few drops of brightness into an otherwise bleak day. It’s a strange thing to watch something you’ve planned your life around fall apart.
From the outside, I can imagine it would have looked like Friday West was my mother’s dream. She insisted from such a young age that I would someday be a business owner, but I’ve never resented her for it. I loved the idea, and she’s helped me plan since I was a little girl, noticing my interest in Noon and other design magazines.
We even came up with the name on a family vacation when I was twelve. Friday, because it was my favorite day of the week, and I could not imagine anyone not liking Fridays. West, because we were watching the sunset at the beach, and my mom commented how nice it is to be on the West Coast, so we don’t have to wake up before dawn to enjoy the pink colors in the sky reflecting on the water. I decided that made West one of my favorite things too, and my mom said it would be a great name for a business someday. I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet, but I knew I wanted to run my own company, just like her.
I look back at my phone where her text remains as a painful reminder that I have failed us both. Before I can fully lose myself in self-pity, Allie comes back over, sliding another iced drink across the counter to me.
“What is this?” I ask.