by E K Woodcock
Before I even get a chance to finish what I’m about to, Ev jumps out of her seat and starts bouncing up and down, yelling, "Fairy godmother!”
I laugh at that because what else can I do. "Well, she does actually have a name, and it’s Skylar. And I invited her over here for taco night."
I look at her questioningly to see how she feels about this, but she's way too excited to care about anything, and all she says is, "Yes, taco night with fairy Skylar!"
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our text message exchange for the past week. The big date is tomorrow, and I’m giddy with excitement. After grabbing a refreshing cold beverage out of the fridge, I head to my favorite spot in my condo, the patio/sunroom.
I installed glass windows onto my patio so I can use it as freely as I want in the winter as I would in the summer. And since it's all covered and I'm on the tenth floor of a high-rise, I have my bookshelves set up in there as well. There's a small electric fireplace I sometimes turn on just for ambiance and a couple of big comfortable chairs with ottomans.
I open my beer, settle in on one of my chairs, and pull out my phone to FaceTime my mother. Since the last time I talked to her a few days ago, so many things have happened in my life, and I need to pick her brain.
Before retirement, my mother was a very successful business owner. She ran a tea shop in Cochrane. She created her own blends and infused her own tea. She even had a corner set up for weekly visits from different mediums, tarot readers, tea leaf readers, what have you.
I loved my mother’s store. It was located in the main street of Cochrane, right on the corner from the flower shop. My mother always had a fresh bouquet of flowers on the counter by the cash register, and each bouquet would be based on her mood that week. She always said, "You always finish the week the same way you start it, so wake up happy, Skylar, and keep only goodness around you."
She wasn't your regular tea shop lady at all. She had notebooks filled cover to cover with recipes. Yes, recipes for teas. Teas to help you sleep, help you calm down, light up your spirits, open up your chakras, even ones for helping with blockages in one's mind.
When I was younger and less cynical, I would always go along with her on the weekends to pick wild berries, rosemary bushes, pine needles and even dandelions. Each time we picked an ingredient, she would tell me to thank nature for providing us with the source of health and wellness. Then we would pack up and head home, so she could get her tools ready to make her special recipe of the week. Each recipe would end up on the tea shop's many shelves, in a glass jar for her customers to look, hold, and smell. I wish she hadn't sold the shop when she retired.
My decision to start my own business will excite her, and she’ll definitely know which step I need to take first. At this point, Google is just providing me with conflicting information, and I'm getting frustrated and confused.
I pull my FaceTime app, find her smiling picture, and click on it. She picks up after the third ring, just as I’m about to hang up and try my father. My mother has never been shy about her body or herself, and it shows one more time when she answers with her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing nothing but her fuzzy bathrobe and steam literally rising off her body.
"Ugh, Mom, go put some clothes on please," I whine to the screen.
"Hello to you, too, Sky… remember, honey, you came out of this body, nothing to be ashamed of here."
If only I had the confidence she has at the age of fifty-nine. "You’re right, but still, go put some clothes on before you get cold, please," I huff at her.
In classic fashion, she rolls her eyes and hands the phone to my dad. "I'll be right back."
My dad takes the phone and looks at me. "Hey, my beautiful girl, how are we today?" he says in his boisterous voice.
"Hi, Dad, I'm doing great, thanks. There are so many things going on, I wanted to call and pick your and Mom’s brains a bit. But that can wait for a minute. How are you doing, Daddio?"
He flashes me his bright, boyish smile. "Ahh, things are great, honey."
My dad, though in his late sixties now, doesn't look a day older than fifty-five. He's always been an active person, and now he has his fishing. I'm assuming from the enormous smile on his sun-kissed face, fishing went well today.
"So is it safe to say you caught some fish today?"
He takes the phone to the kitchen, props it up on the counter, and grabs two monstrous-sized chinook salmons. "Twenty-two pounders, both of them."
I smile at the obvious pride in his voice. "Wow, those are huge… what do you plan on doing with them? Filet? Keep them full? Eat them right now? Freeze for when I come to visit? I vote for the last option, by the way." I take a sip of my cold Belgian brew.
He chuckles. "Of course, we'll save some for you so we can all have some together, but before that happens, I need to go clean these monsters." Then he adds, "The cats and I are best friends these days. They even come on the boat with me in hopes of a fresh meal."
Oh, the cats. If there’s anything us O'Connors love, it’s our cats. We have three cats, two of which live with my parents and apparently like to go fishing now, and one lives with me.
Mr. Cupcake was my first cat. My parents adopted him when I was five, and at that time, there was nothing I liked more than cupcakes, so I named him Mr. Cupcake. He's your typical gray and white cat.
Now Flowerbush is everything Mr. Cupcake is not. She's gray with white spots, almost like a dalmatian. She's totally crazy. She's one of those cats that'll decide it's okay to run marathons around the house at all hours of the night and sleep all day. I can totally see her go fishing on a boat and loving life.
Now Mustachio—yes, yes, I named my cat Mustachio—he’s full gray except for a little white spot just around his lips, hence the name Mustachio. He lives with me and is my companion through life.
I laugh and just shake my head at the ridiculousness of my cats just as my mom comes into the view. "Hi, honey, how are you?"
I smile at her. "Hi Mom. Bye, Dad, go have fun with your cats and fishes.” I wave at my dad through the screen and continue. “I wanted to talk to you about something, actually, to pick your brain on a business matter."
"Oh, this is exciting. Do go on."
I get up from where I’m sitting and nervously pace in my sunroom while explaining. "I told you I was going to research some options for me to do after I quit my job. On the way to the coffee shop, I saw a ‘for rent’ sign on an old salon by my condo and when I was wracking my brain about what to do with my future, an idea came to me."
"Hmmm, I'm liking what I'm hearing so far."
Still pacing, I zero in on my cold drink, take a sip, and continue. "So you know how much I love books and beers? I'm toying with the idea of starting my own business. I want a ‘Books & Beers Around the World’ joint. It'd be like a mixture of a bar and a library. What do you think?"
I can visibly see the pride and excitement in her eyes when she responds, "This is the best news ever. Now a couple of things… First of all, don't rent but own, and—"
I cut her off. "I don't have that kind of money to own…"
"Skylar, manners. Don't cut me off,” she scolds. “I was just about to add that the renter in the tea shop is leaving town, so my shop will be available for you."
I'm flabbergasted. "I thought you'd sold the shop."
She smiles. "I've only rented it out to the snowboarders, and now they’re moving somewhere else. So if you want it, I'll sign the shop over to you and it'll be yours."
I can't decide if I want to jump for joy, scream with excitement, or just burst into tears. Maybe all three. "That's too much. I couldn't just do that."
"Oh, yes you can. Don't be silly. I know how much you love that shop and now it'll be yours. Besides, this'll save me from all the maintenance I still have to deal with."
Finally spotting my pacing, I sit back down on the leather chair. "Wow, I don't know what to say… Thank you so much. Wow,
I'm a business owner."
She continues. "Next thing you need to do is to register your business and start talking to your suppliers. Oh, oh, and don't forget to do all that social media stuff. You know, create a website, Facebook and Instagram and Twitter accounts to advertise your business. And while you're taking care of your side of the business, I'll call my lawyers and get started on the paperwork."
I'm writing furiously while she's telling me all the things I need to do, and ideas start running around in my mind like wildfire. "Sweet. Thanks, Mom. I owe you big time. But for now, I need to go because my mind is buzzing with a million ideas and I need to start on all these things."
"All right, sweetheart, I love you and will call once the paperwork is ready for your signature."
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I jump up and down like a five-year-old who's so excited they can't contain themselves. I'm singing and dancing when I hear the knock on the door. I twirl around the furniture as I head to the door and open it to see my best friend, Jen.
She huffs when I open the door. "Finally, I've been standing here listening to your awful singing voice and knocking until my knuckles got raw."
"Oh, stop being overdramatic." I smile at her, and she responds with her own smile.
My best friend is a bit of a drama queen. She loves attention and will seek and get it wherever she can. Behind all that drama, though, she's a sweetheart and the best best friend a girl could ask for. Jen would move mountains if I were in trouble. She can make grown men cry. Her fiery red hair matches her fiery personality, and I love her for everything she is and isn’t.
Jen walks right into my kitchen, grabs herself a drink from the mini-fridge, and sits down on the couch. Immediately after she settles down, Mustachio jumps on her lap and starts purring. Cats are supposedly great judges of character. They can sense good and evil in a person at a first glance, and Mustachio has loved Jen since the first time she stepped foot in my house.
With one hand rubbing Mustachio's finely cut fur, she says, "So... spill. What's got you so excited and singing and dancing like a lunatic?”
I tell her about my phone conversation with my mother and she’s ecstatic for me. “That’s amazing, Sky! I love your mom. She’s just way too cool.”
I laugh at that. “I know, right? I love her very much. But, I have some other news, too,” I add in a mischievous undertone. I dive into the story of Carter and Everly, how I met them and, finally, the invite for dinner next week.
“Wow, all cards are aces these days. I’m so happy for you. Your life’s finally looking up. Maybe I should go visit this Aubrey person. She might find a lost shoe and a hot daddy for me as well.”
We laugh at her expense and talk until the late hours of the evening.
Morning arrives too fast after a night full of fun with Jen. But I have a lot of things to get done today, so I force myself out of bed. I have a banging headache from last night’s shenanigans, but it’s nothing a Tylenol can’t fix. I put my sweatpants and sweater on and head to the windows in my bedroom. I open the blinds to see an ominous gray sky with the promise of a massive snowstorm. When it will arrive is unknown but I can feel it coming.
I slowly made my way to the kitchen, get my coffee going, and decide to stay home to register my business, incorporate it, and get started on my social media outlets since I can take care of everything online. Once the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose, I’m ready and alive enough to open up my laptop and start typing away.
First, I learn about how to register my business. These days, you can do just about anything online, and registering my business is not an exception. To be honest, it’s easier than I thought it was going to be. Now the hard part is to come up with a name that hasn’t already been taken and incorporated by someone else. I try for a good forty-five minutes to come up with something clever. Booked All Night? Nope, already taken by a book blog (clever ladies). Books and Brews? Nope, already taken by a book club. Booking Brews? Already taken by a catering company…
I’m close to calling it quits when my phone rings with a message. When I see who the message is from, all the clouds clear from my mind, and I smile brightly. Carter.
–Hi Skylar, how are you doing?—
Oh, thank God, a distraction from my very daunting task of coming up with a name for my new business…
—Hmmm, you sound frustrated. Maybe I can help… if only you would tell me what this business is about…—
I smile. I guess I hadn’t told him yet.
Haha you’re a clever one, aren’t you? All right, I’ll give you the bare minimum of details, only because I'm desperate for a fresh idea…
—Go ahead. I'm all eyes. ;-)—
I smile at my screen. He’s just so cute.
Haha, i see what you did there, very cute. All right, I'm starting a books and beers shop, where the old tea shop used to be. And my problem is, all the names I've been coming up with have been taken already. I need a clever name. I thought of Booked All Night but that's taken. Books and Brews but that's taken, and Booking Brews and yes that's also taken. So far, this is where I am at.
A minute or two passes before my phone vibrates again.
–Hmmm, what a great idea. I love it. Does it need to have the word book or brew in it? Can it be something clever and fun, a play on words maybe?—
The pen I’d been twirling in between my fingers hits the table.
Ahhh there it is, a fresh mind. :’) What a great idea.
My phone quickly forgotten, I grab the pen I had dropped, pull my notebook up, and start tapping the page with the tip of it pen. At first, nothing comes to me, but then my mind lights up like the Vegas Strip at night.
“Draft!” I exclaim. That’s the perfect word, works for both beer and books.
I finally put the pen to good use and write “DRAFT” in capital letters in the middle of the page, then start writing random words on both sides of DRAFT and wait for something to pop at me. The First Draft? Nope. Nobody wants to read or drink the first draft of anything. Big scratch across The First Draft.
Then I try The Final Draft, and decide I don’t like the word FINAL. Another big scratch goes across The Final Draft. Just as I go back to tapping my pen, the name comes to me.
“The Best Draft!”
Yes, that’s it. I give the air a fist-pump and quickly type "The Best Draft" onto my name search and bingo, we have a winner. The search comes up as "not found" and I jump on it. I register the name from the registry’s website and incorporate it immediately. And within minutes, The Best Draft is officially registered, and we’ve got a name.
Once finished, I text Carter back.
You are a genius. I just registered the name and incorporated it. Its mine and it’s called “The Best Draft”. You can’t see me right now, but I'm officially jumping up and down like a five-year-old.
—Hahaha I'm glad to be of assistance Skylar. That’s a pretty clever name you came up with. About tonight, here's my address: 18 mountain rise drive. We will see you around 6pm.—
Butterflies fill my stomach.
Perfect, I'll be there with our wine and Ev's kid wine :-)
I glance up from my laptop and realize it's almost one o'clock in the afternoon and I haven't eaten anything all day. In fact, all I’ve had was three cups of black coffee. I’m so wired I could climb the walls. I reach the fridge door to get inspired by what I have, and nothing speaks to me. Next, I open my Skip the Dishes app and decide to order an avocado and lobster salad from Mr. Mike's. Thirty minutes later, my salad is in front of me, along with an ice-cold glass of water, and I'm seated back in front of my laptop.
Now that my business is registered and I've officially got a name for it, it's time to build the social media aspect. This is the hard part; I know nothing about creating a website or advertising, but Google is my friend and it'll teach me.
Three hours of staring at my laptop later, my business has Twitter, Instagram and Facebook
accounts. However, no website. I mean, nobody mentioned I'd have to write code. I have no idea how to do that and Google betrayed me by providing too much information.
I don't need fifty different codes for the letter P, Google. I need a code for how to build the entire darn thing. Well, tomorrow morning, Google and I have a very daunting date to complete, more like start, this website building adventure.
I do a quick time check and realize it's about time to start getting ready to head over to Carter's place. I turn off my laptop. The old girl got a workout today. I plug it into the charger and head to the shower. One hot steaming shower later, I feel so much better. I pick my black jeans and pair them with a snug red sweater and put on my usual barely-there makeup. I complete the look with a messy ponytail, and I'm ready to get going. I pull my black knee-high boots on, grab my jacket and one of my more reasonable sized purses, and out the door I go.
My first stop is the liquor store for a delicious bottle of Merlot, and then I visit the grocery store for sparkling non-alcoholic wine, then on the road we go. I type in the address 18 mountains rise drive into my GPS and follow the directions to Carter's house. My GPS informs me I'll be there in about five minutes, and butterflies start flapping their wings in my tummy. I'm as nervous as a schoolgirl who got caught looking at their crush.
At last, I reach my destination, grab my two separate bottles of wine, and head to the door.
Ev and I are in the kitchen, getting our ingredients out for making our own tortillas. While she pulls out the tortilla press, I get the flour, salt, and oil, along with the measuring cups and spoons.
"When is she going to be here, Daddy?" she asks, beaming with excitement.
I chuckle lowly. "Soon, honey. She'll get here when she gets here. Don't worry."
"But you said soon five minutes ago." She’s moving from excited to can't-wait-any-longer whiny fast.
Everly is wearing one of Willow's old aprons that says Kiss Me, I'm the Cook and has her hair in a ponytail. I had to battle with those tiny hair ties again. I think I broke three of them before I got one to hold her wild curls in. Because we were cooking for Skylar, she insisted her hair had to be put away, because "what if it fell in the food, Daddy?"