Honey on Your Mind Part 14

She shook her head. "I found a great s.p.a.ce in Dumbo that would be perfect for us, and it's available at the beginning of January." Dumbo, an acronym for "Down under the Manhattan Bridge overpa.s.s," was a trendy neighborhood within walking distance of my apartment and just one subway stop from Paige's place in lower Manhattan.

I didn't respond immediately, and Paige followed up with, "It's right across the street from a super cute coffee house/bakery place, and next door to a chocolate shop."

My ears perked up. "Chocolate shop?"

She laughed. "I knew that would get your attention."

I smiled. "OK, I'm listening..."

"We also need employees."

"We need employees?"

She nodded. "Nothing major, but we definitely need a couple of minions to manage the orders and deal with production and inventory so that I can focus on running the accounts, not to mention opening new ones, and so you can focus on client relations and promotion, not to mention expanding the product line."

My head was spinning. "OK..."

"We also need an accountant."

"An accountant?"

"Yes, just part-time for basic bookkeeping, but yes."

"You think we're ready for all that?"

She didn't hesitate. "Yes, and eventually we're going to have to hire a marketing manager too."

"Can I afford all that?" I'd already incurred a ton of expenses flying us around the country to meet with potential buyers, not to mention the cost of manufacturing and new product designs, and the small revenue stream from the online orders hardly covered what I was putting out. I'd been able to pay for everything so far from my TV salary, but if the whole Honey operation blew up in my face, I'd soon be dipping into my nest egg, which was really more of an egglet and wouldn't go very far if I had to pay a whole staff New York salaries.

She nodded. "I've run some numbers, and with the large orders we have lined up for January, we can lower our manufacturing costs through production volume discounts, and switch to a distribution center that handles bigger clients. That will bring our cost of goods sold way down, streamline s.h.i.+pping, and more than cover the cost of our additional overhead. We'll also be able to accommodate future growth without disrupting our existing accounts."

I blinked. "That was a lot of business-school speak you just rattled off. I don't speak that language."

She smiled and tapped a finger against her temple. "Trust me."

A vision of me in bankruptcy court flashed before my eyes. Boxes of T-s.h.i.+rts and tote bags in my apartment and a sales rep who worked entirely on commission was one thing. An office and hourly employees was another. Was I getting in over my head? I began to shred my napkin into little bits.

Sensing my anxiety, Paige reached across the table and gently squeezed my arm. "It's taking off, Waverly. You should be excited. This is exciting."

"It is? I should? It is?"

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. It's really happening."

I looked down at the remainder of my sticky bun sitting among the napkin pieces. "Then why do I feel sort of sick?"

"You mean aside from the fact that you just ate an enormous ball of sugar?"

I nodded. "Good point. But seriously, Paige, just last year Waverly's Honey Shop existed only in my imagination, and now I'm going to have an office? And employees? I can't believe it."

"Why not? You came up with a fantastic idea, and you've worked extremely hard to turn it into a real product. That's a lot easier said than done."

I didn't reply.

"You should be proud of yourself, Waverly. I am."

I stared at the table. She's right, Waverly. You should be proud of yourself.

I still didn't reply.

"Waverly?"

Finally, I looked up at her, still in a daze. "Thanks, Paige. I...I'm so grateful for all your help. None of this would have happened without you."

She smiled. "It's been a pleasure. So you want to walk over and check out the s.p.a.ce?" She gestured toward the exit.

I tossed the remaining chunk of sticky bun into my mouth and nodded. "Let's do it."

a a a "Want me to call a cab? Or should we take the subway?" I yelled from my bedroom. It was nearly seven the following evening, and I was digging through my jewelry box to find a necklace to wear with my new dress. Why didn't I think about accessories before?

"Your call, I'm easy," Jake called from the living room, where he was watching the Hawks game on TV. He'd been granted a quick hall pa.s.s to take me to the NBC holiday party and was flying to meet the team in Salt Lake City the next day.

I pulled out a small diamond pendant and clasped it behind my neck. "You do realize that when you say *I'm easy' on the way out to a party, it makes you sound like a paid escort," I said at a normal decibel as I walked into the living room.

"Does it? Then I guess we'll have to figure out a payment plan after the party." He looked up at me and smiled. "Wow, you look gorgeous."

I curtsied. "Why, thank you." I'd spent half a day shopping for the "perfect" holiday party dress, something red, sparkly, and amazing...but I hadn't found it. The red dress I did find, however-pretty, strapless, and just above the knee-wasn't bad. And I didn't really mind. I'd learned that I was never going to stand out as a fas.h.i.+onista in New York City, and it felt good not to wrap my self-esteem up in something as superficial as a dress. It made me feel...grown up.

Jake stood up and gestured toward me. "Come here."

I stepped toward him, and he put his arms around my lower back. "You're stunning," he whispered into my hair.

I closed my eyes and smiled.

a a a We splurged for a cab and were soon standing at the entrance to the New York Athletic Club, a majestic building located on Central Park South, directly across from the park itself. We made our way through the lobby, and as the elevator doors closed behind us, I clenched my hands into fists against my chest.

"You OK?" Jake asked.

I nodded. "Just a little nervous. I'll be fine."

The doors opened onto a room full of people I didn't recognize. The women were all wearing floor-length gowns, some with fur coats draped over one arm. And I was sure they were real fur coats. I tried not to stare, but I was not used to hanging around with people who wore real fur. Or floor-length gowns.

"I didn't expect to be so nervous," I whispered to Jake, not sure what to do with the nervous energy I felt pulsing through my veins.

"Let's get a drink," he whispered back.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park on one side and Seventh Avenue on the other. Guests were milling about and socializing, the music not yet loud enough to drown out the c.o.c.ktail chatter. After checking our coats, Jake took my hand and led me toward the bar.

"Hey, there's Scotty and Tad." I gestured to the opposite end of the room.

"Meet you there in a second with drinks?" Jake said.

I smiled at him. "Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?"

"Perhaps, but a man can never hear that enough. What's your poison going to be tonight?"

I thought for a moment. Given my history, beer or wine was the best choice. I tended to get "emotional" if I drank hard alcohol, "emotional" being a euphemism for "plastered." And plastered was the last thing I wanted to be at a work party. I'd done that once before and ended up getting super sick-in a public restroom, no less. It was not one of my finer moments.

"I think I'll have a gla.s.s of red wine," I said, cringing at the memory.

"I'm on it." He continued toward the bar, and I went in search of Scotty and Tad. The room was filling up quickly, and I could no longer see them. I did, however, see Wendy. She had her back to me, but it was impossible to miss that bright yellow thimble she called "hair."

Blech.

Should I say h.e.l.lo now?

Get it over with?

I decided to bite the bullet and at least act professional and pleasant, despite my inner angst. I walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hi, Wendy."

She turned around and flashed her megawatt smile. "Waverly, h.e.l.lo! It's so luuuvely to see you!"

She was clearly in "sort of nice" mode tonight. Thank G.o.d. Maybe it wouldn't be that painful to chat with her.

She reached for the arm of the tall man standing next to her, whose back was to me. "Waverly, you must meet my huuusband," she purred.

The man turned around and smiled.

If I'd been holding a drink, I would have dropped it on the floor.

"Waverly Bryson, this is my huuusband, Gary Davenport."

Oh my G.o.d.

It was Paige's Gary.

I held out my hand and tried to mask the look of horror on my face. He looked equally shocked.

"Um, hi, Gary, it's...it's nice to meet you."

He shook my hand and squeezed it-hard. "The pleasure is all mine."

I had no idea what to say.

Holy c.r.a.p holy c.r.a.p holy c.r.a.p.

"Waverly works on my show," Wendy said, oblivious to the tension between us.

"Oh really?" Gary said. I think his forehead may have started to bead with sweat, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him to confirm or deny it. I just stared at Wendy.

Wendy nodded. "She does a cute little segment a few days a week, a man on the street sort of thing, isn't that right, Waverly?"

I nodded and swallowed. "Um, yes, it's called...Honey on Your Mind."

"Honey on Your Mind?" Gary asked with a nod, putting the pieces together.

"It's fun," Wendy said. "She also has an adorable line of products around the Honey concept. T-s.h.i.+rts, tote bags, that sort of thing. I love them."

I looked at her. Did she just pay me a compliment?

Just then Jake appeared, thank G.o.d. He handed me a gla.s.s of wine, which I was tempted to knock back in one gulp.

"Jake, um, this is Wendy Davenport from Love, Wendy, and her husband, Gary. Wendy and Gary, this is my boyfriend, Jake McIntyre."

Jake shook their hands. "It's great to meet you both. Wendy, I like your show."

Wendy pushed me in the shoulder, a bit harder than necessary or appropriate. "Why loooook at you, I didn't know you had a boyfriend." The gesture didn't seem overtly malicious, however, and I wondered how much she'd had to drink.

I nodded and took a huge sip of my wine. There was a good reason Wendy didn't know about Jake. After our initial meeting back on the Today show, I'd never talked to her about my personal life. Ever.

"And all this time I thought you were a single girl, flirting your way around town with the camera crew in tow." She took another sip of whatever she was drinking. A big sip.

I shook my head, my face still half in my wine, which part of me now wanted to toss in her face. How was I supposed to respond to that comment with Jake standing right next to me?

Wendy put her hand on Gary's arm. I could tell he was staring at me, even though I hadn't made eye contact since Wendy had introduced us. "When I met Waverly on the Today show, she was single, and my, oh my, did she have her share of dating stories." She laughed a bit too loudly.

I looked up from my drink. Did she just say that right in front of Jake? I was tempted to elbow him but didn't want to be obvious. I'd told him all about crazy Wendy, but he was finally getting to see for himself.

Gary was still staring at me.

I finished my wine and looked at Jake. Professional etiquette be d.a.m.ned, I had to get the h.e.l.l out of there. "I think I'm going to get another drink and look for Scotty. You ready?"

He nodded, and then held out his hand to Gary and Wendy again. "It was a pleasure meeting you both."

As we walked away, I could feel Gary's eyes burning into my back.

"Oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d," I whispered.

"Are you OK?" Jake said.

"Wine isn't cutting it tonight. I need a stiff drink." I pulled him by the arm toward the bar. Screw my fear of getting hammered at a work event.

He laughed. "Come on, she wasn't that bad. I expected her to be much worse, to be honest."

I looked at him, and the second we made eye contact he could tell something was wrong.

"Waverly, what's going on?"

I glanced over his shoulder at Wendy and Gary, who were now chatting with some people I recognized from the Today show.