Gah. Yes.
I grab my gratitude journal off the kitchen counter and take it with me to the small table next to my open window. The sounds of the city are omnipresent, and after living here my whole life, I barely notice them anymore as I pick a pencil from my jar. Today’s saysbe fucking fabulous.
Duly noted.
I take my first sip and let the warmth fill my body as I consider what to write today. This is one of my most important morning rituals. I know that I was born under a pretty damn lucky star. I have a life that most people would kill for—even with a freaking kidnapping yesterday. I never want to take a single bit of it for granted ... for however long it lasts.
I tap the eraser on the notebook until it hits me.
I am grateful for the reminder that this life is finite and every second is precious. I am grateful that I woke up this morning and have a purpose for today.
I could write more, but I don’t feel moved. Some days, I write paragraphs. Others, one sentence. I don’t know if I’m doing it right, but I figure as long as I write something down every single day, it keeps the spirit of gratitude flowing through me. I almost add a postscript after I take another sip, but I just think it instead.
I am grateful for coffee. Thank you to every single person whose labor and efforts brought this to my lips.
Today’s brew doesn’t last long as I practically inhale it. I’m just starting on my second cup when the distinctive double knock comes at the door.
Amy.Right on time.
I pop out of my seat and swerve around my antique furniture, the pieces Chadwick calledtackyandmismatched,before I answer it.
Some people might expect the boss of a place like Curated to open the door looking perfectly coifed, but those people don’t know me at all.
My employees have all seen me with a rat’s nest of hair, no makeup, and in my pajamas. Because that’s me too, and I’m not hiding my general hot-mess status every morning. It would take too much effort, and I just don’t care enough to make it happen.
“Good morning, Amy,” I say with a smile as I swing the door open to greet my twenty-eight-year-old executive assistant and general manager. I tried having two separate people, but things got complicated, and I decided it’s easier to give all my orders to Amy, and thenAmyhas an executive assistant and staff to delegate everything to that needs to get done while she manages the store.
Unconventional, but it works for us.
“Hey, Scar. Happy hump day! You ready for me?”
“I’m always ready for you.”
She laughs, because that’s total bullshit. “At least you’re not using thecoffee makes me poopmug today. That one still weirds me out.”
Her comment reminds me of Chadwick and my lack of bodily functions in his brain.
“I poop. You poop. No reason to get weird about it.”
“Moving on from poop. You have a call in fifteen minutes with Ryan and Christine. She specifically told me to clear your calendar from four to six Friday, and I wanted to run it by you before I go ahead and do it. Because even though I’m more scared of her than I am of you, I wanted you to know.”
My financial manager is a terrifyingly capable woman who makes all my employees quake in fear. Probably because they didn’t see her pee her pants climbing a tree when she was eight like I did. Still, she even frightens me with her intensity now and then, and I have to remind myself that she was a little fraidycat at one point too.
“Did she say why?”
“No, and I’m afraid to ask.”
“Fair enough. Go ahead and do it. Chris wouldn’t make the request if it wasn’t important.”
It might seem strange that I follow her instructions with blind faith, but Chris is likely the only person on this planet, other than her brother Ryan, my business adviser, who cares more about my money than I do. Chris would take it as a personal insult if I thought she was wasting my time, because that’s another thing she’d never do.
“Okay. I’ll do that ASAP. Kelsey will be here at ten to do your hair and makeup. I emailed you a half dozen contracts that are ready for your signature. You can check them out while she works, if you have time. Then you have appointments on the third floor from eleven thirty until three. From three to five thirty, you have time blocked to hit the two vintage shops you like. The new inventory will be there waiting for you to check out before they shelve it.”
I do a little shimmy in excitement about the vintage shops. Scoping out new products is something I don’t get to do as often as I like anymore, but it’s the most fun part of my job.
I used to find and purchase every piece that came in the door at Curated, but our growth rate has made it so that there’s no way I could keep up with supply alone. I now have an elaborate network of scouts all over the world who love to collect my finder’s fee for scooping up the best and most unique goods in their area.
“And that’s it? Early night?” I’m about to throw my hands up in the air and hip check her, but Amy’s face falls.