Page 3 of Save the Date
“Look, Dad, I know I’m kinda late with my payment…”
“I haven’t had a phone call, much less a check from you, in three months now,” he said. “What’s going on down there?”
She swallowed hard. “We’re just coming into my busiest season. Remember, I told you that? I’ve got a spring and summer full of weddings booked. But I’ve had all kinds of expenses. Buying the van, getting my website designed, finishing out the shop and buying equipment…”
“Our agreement was that you’d start making payments on the loan in February. You should have had plenty of money from Valentine’s Day business, right?”
She felt a stabbing pain between her eyes. “We actually had a pretty good Valentine’s Day. But all the profits went back into the shop. My computer died, and I had to buy a new one…”
“Not my problem,” her father shot back. “If you’d prepared a detailed business plan, as I’d suggested, you could have anticipated that a five-year-old computer would need to be replaced. It’s called a contingency plan. These things are a cost of doing business, Cara.”
“I know, but…”
“If you’ve got business coming into the shop, I’d think you’d be in a position to start repaying at least the interest on your loan,” he went on.
“Dad, if you’d just let me explain,” Cara started.
But the Colonel wasn’t interested in explanations. Not from her.
“I should have known something like this would happen. It’s never a good idea to loan money to family, especially since you didn’t even have a sound business plan for this shop of yours.”
“That’s not true,” Cara said sharply. “I drew up a business plan. I did cost projections, market studies, I researched rent and utilities, I did everything I could. But how could I anticipate something like having to replace a computer? Or a deadbeat innkeeper who refuses to pay me for three months’ worth of arrangements? Just this morning, I came downstairs, and my flower cooler had died. Along with twelve thousand dollars’ worth of inventory I need for a wedding tomorrow. Some things are just out of my control, Dad. You of all people know that.”
“Water under the bridge,” he said, interrupting. “The fact is, if you can’t even begin repaying the interest on a loan, after six months, your business has no hope of success. Even you can see that, right?”
“No! I can’t see it. My business is building every week. We’ve got new clients, a few new commercial accounts. I just need a little more time to get things up and running. This wedding tomorrow, Dad? It’s a ten-thousand-dollar deal.” Cara hated the pleading note she heard creeping into her voice.
“For which you just admitted you don’t have any flowers,” the Colonel shot back. “Look, Cara. This just proves my point. You’re a smart girl, and a hard worker, I’ll give you that. But somebody like you has no business running a business. Take that innkeeper. You think I would have given three months of credit to a new account? Not on your life!”
Cara felt her left eye twitching, and her headache was taking on a new life of its own. She opened the drawer of her desk, found the bottle of aspirin, popped three into her mouth, and choked them down with a swallow of now-cold coffee.
She had to end this call before her head exploded.
“Dad? I’m sorry, but I really need to go now. We’ve got to replace those flowers I lost, and I’ve got another bride coming in for an appointment. I’ll send you a check by the end of next week. Swear to God. And after that, I’ll catch up. Monthly payments, just like we agreed. Okay?”
“No. Not okay,” he said. “I know this is painful for you, Cara, but admit it, this florist thing of yours hasn’t worked out. Just like your marriage. And frankly, I’m out of patience with pretending everything is okay. I’m not some ATM machine, you know. Two years from now, I’m retiring from the community college. I have to start thinking about my own welfare. Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money at my age. I’m sorry, but I’m pulling the plug on this little enterprise of yours.”
Cara’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “Pull the plug? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what it sounds like. It’s over, Cara. No more stalling, no more excuses. I’m calling your loan. It’s still the first week of May. Close up the shop. Call your landlord, let her know you’re breaking your lease. Maybe if you give her plenty of advance notice, she’ll prorate your rent.”
“Break the lease?” Cara’s mouth went dry. Her hands clutched the phone so hard her fingertips turned white. “Close the shop?”
From across the room, Bert, who’d given up any pretense of not listening in, looked as shocked as she felt.
“There’s no reason for you to stay down there in Savannah any longer,” her father continued, as though everything were settled, just like that, because he said so. “You’ve no ties, there, really. Leo’s not taking you back, and anyway…”
“Leo?” Cara screeched. “Dad, I left Leo, not the other way around.”
“A technicality,” the Colonel said calmly. “Let’s not split hairs. I think it would be better if you got a little place of your own. I could probably talk to somebody here at the school about a job, but if you think you still want to fool around with flowers, you can probably find something around town.…”
“Dad!” Cara shouted into the phone. “Stop. Just stop!”
“There’s no need to scream, young lady,” the Colonel said sternly. “I’m not deaf.”
You might as well be,Cara thought.You never hear a word I say. You never have. I’m thirty-six years old, as you dearly love to point out, and you’ve never really listened to me. Not in my whole life.
“I can’t discuss this right now,” she managed.
