Of course he was right, but she’d still argued the point, hoping like crazy that she could turn it around. That line sold so much better than any other line in her city stores. It always had. With the boost she gave it on the blog and in her country advertising budget, Mia had hoped that things would improve. They hadn’t. But she’d allowed for that in her predictions, and not every line could be a success every time. It wasn’t as though the company would fall down over it. “What’s your suggestion? From the look on your face, you’ve already decided to push me out.”
Ryan had the grace to look embarrassed and her heart skipped a beat. He wouldn’t do that to her, would he? She was the one who started the company, the brains behind the operation. It was her baby, for goodness sake. But it was also one of the issues Ryan had raised when she first talked about going public. Anyone at any time could kick her out. Control could slip from her hands, but it was a risk she had been prepared to take.
Her uncle leaned on the table, clasping his hands together before looking her way. “Mia, honey, nobody is pushing you out. We want you to be involved in the company because, as you rightly say, it’s your baby. It wouldn’t be the same without you but you need a break. You’ve worked your butt off for eight years. Even when Elaine and Gary died you didn’t stop.” He moistened his lips and continued, his face a mask of concern that made her feel guilty. “Do you think your father—my big brother—would approve of me letting you run yourself ragged like this?”
She blinked and shifted her gaze. Losing her parents had been hard. Some days she didn’t think she was ever going to get over that loss. It was one reason she pushed herself so hard in the business: to make them proud of what she’d achieved. And to dull the pain their loss had brought.
“When was the last time you took Christmas off, or Easter? Every bank holiday I can find you at your desk. A single mental health day even. It’s too much, Mia.” He cleared his throat and she waited for the axe to fall. “I want you to take some time off and the board agrees. I’ve called a friend I trust from my banking days. He has connections to accommodation on Hope Island, which is only a short ferry ride from Seattle. Atticus’s son owns a bed and breakfast overlooking the harbor and I feel it would be the perfect place for you to rest and recuperate. Nothing to do but explore the island and relax. Unwind and sleep in. Eat what you want. Take walks or just sit with a book and read. Something you haven’t done in years.”
“But I…”
Ryan held up his hand. “Don’t argue, honey. The Wall Street Journal doesn’t count as reading for relaxation. Stop and think before you say something you can’t take back.”
Relaxing didn’t make her money nor did it keep her busy enough to avoid processing through her parent’s death. The staff relied on the company for their income and she wasn’t about to let them down. She wasn’t going to admit it, but the last time she’d picked up a fiction book was when she was still in school. Fiction didn’t cut it with her these days. “Fine. I’ll take a week off and then I’ll be back.”
She could do this. Take a bikini and a book and try to relax for six or seven days. Even that was pushing it for her. She’d never taken off more than a day at a time. The thought of seven days and nights away from work scared the crap out of her. Maybe she should’ve suggested three or four days. Two even.
“Not good enough. I’ve booked you a room for a month. If you come back earlier than that, the board has voted to terminate your employment. The last thing this company needs is an overworked, misguided boss who can’t even look after her own health.”
A whole month? Mia shuddered and blinked back tears of frustration. What was she going to do? She’d go stir crazy sitting down for that long. And misguided? Where the heck did that come from? She adored her company, breathed it day and night. That didn’t make her misguided. It made her dedicated, damn it!
She strode to the door and grabbed the handle. “Don’t you dare tell me how to look after my health when you work just as hard as I do.” She slammed it behind her.
* * *
Matt heard a car door shut and walked out to the front porch. His father jogged up the path. “Son.” He waved in greeting.
Matt leaned on the porch post. “What’s happened to drag you out here mid-week?”
“Got a call from a friend who needs a helping hand. Figured I may as well come and tell you about my news in person. Grab a cup of that fancy coffee if you have the machine turned on.”
“Of course I do. Come on in, Dad.” Matt shut the screen door behind his father and put his hand on his shoulder as they walked into the kitchen, sharing a moment of quiet contentment. Any time his father came to the house, he savored it. Atticus always made the world seem a happier place with his calm manner and sunny outlook on life.
“Have a seat.” Matt put a coffee mug under his newly acquired coffee machine and pushed a button. Before long, the sound of beans grinding pierced the air and then the tantalizing aroma of fresh-made coffee was the prevailing aroma in the light-filled kitchen. When the machine finished its process, Matt passed the mug of coffee over and perched himself on a
