The Invitation

When I went quiet for a minute, Olivia wrongly assumed why.

“It’s a pain in the ass to get to, isn’t it? Let me send a car for you.”

“No, no—it’s absolutely fine. I’ll see you at two.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. But thank you.”

After I hung up, I looked in the mirror above my dresser. I’d gotten out of the shower and put my wet hair into a ponytail. Suddenly I thought I might be in the mood to take it down and give it a nice blow-dry.

***

“Hey!” I stood from my seat in the reception area, and Olivia swamped me in a big hug. “Sorry to make you wait. I’ve had an awful morning.”

I wished I looked as bright-eyed and chipper as she did having a bad day. “It’s fine. I wasn’t waiting long.”

She waved toward the inner sanctum. “Come on back. Do you have to leave right away? I was hoping we could talk. I ordered us some salads in case you were hungry.”

I still couldn’t get over the turn of events—that the woman whose wedding I’d crashed wanted to be my friend. “Sure. I’d love that. Thanks.”

I followed Olivia, turning left and then right. I knew from my visit to pick up my cell phone that the last door on the end of this hallway was Hudson’s office. As we walked closer, my mouth grew dry. His door was open, so I attempted to sneak a look inside without getting caught. Disappointment set in as we passed, and I saw it was empty. But it was probably for the best. I’d wasted enough time on a man who hadn’t called.

Olivia’s office was located around the corner from her brother’s. It was large and sleek, but not quite the proverbial corner office with the floor-to-ceiling windows looking down on the city like her brother had. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be thrilled to sit in a closet in this building. But I found it interesting that his space made it appear he was higher on the corporate food chain when Olivia had said they worked together—not that she worked for her brother.

“I skipped breakfast. Do you mind if we eat before I take a look at the perfumes? I’m dying to get my hands on it, but I’m also diabetic and shouldn’t skip meals.”

“Sure, of course.”

Olivia and I sat across from each other. I unfurled the cloth napkin that held the utensils and laid it across my lap.

“This looks great.”

“I hope you like it. I ordered a chopped salad that had some of the same ingredients that were in your lunch the last time we got together. Just to be safe.”

God, she was so thoughtful.

We dug into our salads. “So any better news about Signature Scent?” she asked.

I forced a smile, trying not to let on how miserable I was. “Not really. The launch is going to be more delayed than I’d hoped since the SBA loan fell through.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry about that. I kind of thought it might not get approved when we talked at lunch. But I didn’t want to say anything and jinx it. I’ve worked with them before, and they’re not really as start-up friendly as they claim to be.”

“Yeah. They basically said come back once you’re up and running and have some sales history.”

“Would you…consider taking on a private-equity investor? It’s part of what we do here. Rothschild Investments is a wealth-management company. We offer typical money-management services, like managing stock-investment portfolios, but we also have a pool of investors who invest capital in exchange for a piece of a new or expanding company.”

“So, you’re selling a piece of your company to a bunch of different people?”

She nodded. “Yes, sort of. But you usually keep controlling interest. And since the investors have a vested interest in your success, they don’t just hand you the check. They also provide management help, like using their buying power and other resources. Our venture-capital division has a whole team whose sole responsibility is to support the businesses they invest in.”

“Hmmm... Would I even qualify for something like that? I’ve invested a ton of my own savings, but I don’t have a steady income anymore. To be honest, I’m going to have to get a job soon if I don’t start turning over some of the inventory I bought.”

“Working with a VC is different than a bank. It’s not based on an owner’s income, but on the potential of the business itself. I could set you up with an appointment if you wanted to explore it as an option.”

“Could I…think about it a bit and get back to you? It’s very generous of you to even consider my business for such a thing. I just want to make sure it’s the right decision for me.”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

Olivia and I finished our lunch, chatting away like old friends. After, I showed her all of the perfumes I’d made for her wedding party, and she literally squealed over each one. Her excitement was contagious, and as I got ready to leave her office, I felt more pumped than I had in weeks—at least since the bank had yanked my line of credit.