Was he serious? After everything he’d already done? And yet, the moment he said it, I realized there was something more I wanted Luke to do for me. In fact, the day before, even prior to him knocking on my door, I’d briefly considered calling to ask for his help but immediately rejected the idea. It would have been too awkward, especially after the way I’d brushed him off that last day in the coffee shop. Also, I wouldn’t have wanted him to get the wrong idea about why I was calling. But now, here he was, standing in my living room....
“Are you sure you don’t mind? Monica said it sounded good to her, but I’d like a second opinion. Since you’ve owned two businesses now—”
He grinned, “Yeah, but remember, that first one failed.”
“I know,” I said. “But I consider that a plus; you already know what doesn’t work. And you were a lawyer. I don’t want to keep you from your work, but . . .” I grabbed a stack of papers from the seat of the wicker-back chair. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not a problem,” he said. “What are friends for?”
* * *
Thirty minutes, a bowl of ice cream, and two cups of French roast later, I sat down on one of my new stools, looking at Luke across the table, waiting to hear his verdict.
“Well? What do you think? Can it work?”
“Well, before we get into details,” he said, putting down his coffee cup, “I want to say how impressive this is. It’s hard to believe you’ve never written a business plan before.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Wow. You really sounded like a lawyer right there. Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?”
“Because you’re smart,” he laughed. “But honestly, Grace. I really am impressed. Before we get to the ‘buts,’ let’s discuss what’s good in your plan.”
“Okay.”
“To begin with, let’s talk about your mission statement—‘Twirl and Whirl Clothing Company merges fashion and philanthropy. When customers make a purchase from Twirl and Whirl, they will receive not only a fun, flirty, fashionable item of clothing, but also the satisfaction that comes from knowing a similar item will be donated to a needy woman in the local community.’ That’s really good,” he said, lowering the paper and looking me in the eye.
“I don’t know,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Now that I’m hearing it out loud, it sounds kind of long. And there are too many words that start with F.”
“You can edit later if you want to,” he said, “but this is really just a roadmap, a way for you to figure out where you want to go and how to get there. The basic concept, connecting fashion with philanthropy, is genius. That feel-good angle will separate you from the competition.”
I nodded. “Plus, it’s a good thing to do. That’s the part that really has me excited.”
“And that comes through in your plan. This is something you feel really passionate about. And I can tell you from experience, that’s the only reason to start your own business.”
He paused and took another drink from his coffee cup.
“This is where the ‘but’ comes in, right?”
“This is where,” he said, putting down the cup. “Grace, it’s never a mistake to follow your heart, but be sure to bring your brain along.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning your projections are overly optimistic.”
I frowned and he lifted up his hand.
“Hang on,” he said. “Don’t get discouraged. It’s a workable plan—with some adjustments. Starting a business with zero capital means you have to watch every penny.”
“But it’ll hardly cost me anything to start,” I protested. “I already own the fabric, enough to make twenty-five dresses and thirty-five skirts. With the money I make from them, I can afford to buy more fabric and keep going.”
“But you have other costs,” he explained. “Getting a booth at the Saturday Market is a smart idea. The booth fee is fairly reasonable and you’ll be surrounded by shoppers who want handmade goods. But if you found somebody to share the space, you could cut that cost in half.”
“Oh. Good idea,” I said, wondering why I hadn’t thought of that myself. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from off the table and started scribbling notes. “What else?”
“Well, in general . . . I just think it’s going to take longer to turn a profit than you think it is. You’ll need outside income—”
“But that’s why I’m going to work two jobs,” I said, interrupting him. “I’ll sew during the day, wait tables at Café Allegro at night, and sell clothes on the weekend.”
“Right,” he said. “But living on tips is dicey. Until you know how much you’re really bringing in, I’d plan on picking up more hours.”
I thought about that for a second. Remembering my past waitressing experiences, I saw he had a point.
“Okay. I’ll ask Monica if I can work Saturday nights too. Tips should be better and I know she’s short on staff.”
“But that’s a lot of hours. Are you sure it won’t be too much for you?”
“Are you kidding?” I laughed. “When I was working for Gavin, seventy hours was a short week. One thing I’ll say for that job, it built up my stamina. And this time, I’ll be working for something I care about. I got this,” I assured him, adding another note to my list. “What else?”
“Right,” he said, and the way he said it made me know that he was preparing to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. “The thing is, Grace—donating a dress for every dress you sell? It’s a big-hearted idea. But it won’t work. If you’re serious about making this a viable business over the long haul, there’s just no way you can do it. At least not yet.”
This wasn’t something I wanted to hear. Being able to donate dresses was the whole idea behind the business, the thing that would
