I breathe out with relief. “Cupcakes.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She hurries out of my apartment, her silky blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders, and returns about fifteen minutes later with bags of goodies.
“Ended up buying donuts too. They looked too delicious to just leave them there.”
“That’s my sister,” I exclaim with a half-hearted fist pump.
For the next few hours, we stuff ourselves with carbs and sugar, talk about everything under the sun except Nate, and my sister allows me to wallow. I’m almost convinced my sweet-natured sister has kicked her tough-love tendency to the curb for the day. Oh, how deluded I was.
When the last of the donuts and cupcakes are gone, Pippa claps her hands once. I almost expect someone to pull up a curtain behind her and announce, “Showtime.”
“Okay, before we go into a sugar and carb coma, we need to make a plan,” she explains.
I’m sitting on the floor, in front of my couch with my knees pulled to my chest. Groaning, I watch Pippa pace around my living room, full of energy.
“Have you considered moving with him to London?”
A knot locks in my throat as I rest my chin on my knees. “Yes, but that would mean being so far away from all of you.”
“You can always visit, Alice,” she says gently. “Like Summer does.”
“Did you consider moving with Eric to Boston?”
When Pippa met Eric, he was in San Francisco for a few months only, expanding his business on the East Coast. His life and the headquarters of his company were in Boston. In the end, he decided to remain in San
Francisco.
My sister sighs, stopping her maddening pace. Just as well, because I was starting to get a headache just from watching her.
“Initially I dismissed the idea because I didn’t want to be so far away from the family. But in the end, if he hadn’t stayed in San Francisco, I would have moved to Boston,” she says with utmost certainty.
“I have three restaurants in San Francisco though. It’s not some online business I can run from anywhere. I worked hard for all of this.”
Pippa is not to be deterred. She points to the ceiling, as if saying I have an idea.
“Where’s your laptop?” she asks.
“In my room.”
With a nod, she disappears into my room, returning with my laptop. She sits next to me on the floor, opening the lid. “Let’s go through your daily tasks.”
Licking my lips, I nod. This feels good, productive. I pull up my weekly calendar on the screen. Pippa scans through it.
“So you spend roughly half your time in telephone conferences with various marketing partners. Tourism agencies, hotels, magazines….”
“That’s right. I have contracts with some, but with others it’s a matter of being on friendly terms so they recommend my restaurants.”
“And you do this every day?”
“Yeah, mostly in the mornings but also in the downtime between lunch and dinner. I have designated hours every day for this. The people I speak to rotate, obviously, but I like having a dedicated time to talk to them. I like my plans.”
“I wish I were more like you, more organized. Instead, my plan is to put out the fire burning the brightest.”
“Hey, whatever works for you is best.”
“Okay, but you could do this from anywhere, right? Calling, I mean. You’ll have to work around the time zone difference, but it’s doable. How often do you meet in person with these people?”