Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Mom smiled and nodded, then kicked a beam. “Okay, I feel better now.”
Dad chuckled.
“So, you said something about heated flooring?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
We spent almost an hour in the house, talking about every little detail, and by the time we walked back into the yard, I was practically bursting with the urge to bring up why I’d come.
“Come have some coffee,” my dad said, throwing his arm around my shoulders as he led me to the trailer. “It’s not as fancy as that shit you make, but it’ll do.”
“Put some hair on my chest?” I asked jokingly.
“Shit, I hope not,” my dad replied in fake alarm, pulling out the neck of his t-shirt as if to check his own chest.
“Funny you should bring up coffee,” I said, drawing out the words as we went inside. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Are you leaving the coffee cart?” my mom asked in surprise. “Did you already get a new job? Don’t quit unless—”
I cut her off by shaking my head. “Nope,” I said, sitting down at their little table. “Actually kind of the opposite.”
“Clue us in, baby girl,” my dad said as he poured us all some coffee. “Ya got us on the edge of our seats.”
Mom slid in across from me and waited.
“Okay, so I like making coffee. I like the whole thing. And I know that you guys helped me with college and I’m so thankful. Like, I can’t ever repay everything you’ve done for me—”
“Slow down,” my dad said calmly. “You’re ramblin’.”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’ve run the numbers.” I grinned. “That college education was good for something.”
Mom laughed, but dad just watched me, waiting for me to get to the point.
“I’d like to buy the coffee cart from Mal,” I said quickly. “And then, I’d like to grow the business and if I can do that, not even a lot, just like fifteen percent, I think I could open another cart.”
“Really?” my mom said in surprise, sitting back in her seat.
“Really,” I confirmed.
I waited for my dad to say something. I wasn’t really worried that he’d think it was a bad idea, I was just trying to figure out if I had to gear up to convince him that it was a good one.
He set the coffee cups down in front of us, poured one for himself, and sat down next to my mom.
“Alright,” he said easily. “Tell me your plan.”
I broke down everything, how much I was paying for the original cart, how much money it was currently bringing in and how much more I’d have to make in order to open a second location. I explained my ideas for promotion and marketing, how I’d bring more customers in, and why I thought we weren’t currently reaching as many people as we could be. By the time I was finished, my parents were nodding along, their excitement for me evident in every gesture and question they asked.
“Okay then,” my dad said with a chuckle. “You’ve been workin’ on this a while.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I mean it started as just a vague idea, because I really like working there, you know? But I can’t be just a barista forever.”
“Why not?” my mom asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Okay, I could,” I amended. “But I don’t want to. I want to build something and I want to be in charge.”
“That’s fair,” she replied.
“So, what do you need from us?” my dad asked. “Money?”
“No,” I replied immediately, shaking my head. “I’m not here for funding.”
“Okay, Ms. Moneybags,” my mom said, smiling. “I don’t even want to know where you got that much money—”
“I saved and invested in that shit Tommy was talking about all last year. I got in right before it went crazy and got out before it started dropping. I made a shit ton.”
“Knew I shoulda listened to his crazy ass,” my dad mumbled, shooting my mom a disgruntled look.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said to my dad before looking at me. “So you don’t need anything from us?” she asked, sounding almost disappointed.
“I’m sure I will at some point,” I joked. “But right at this moment, no.” I shrugged. “I guess I just wanted your opinion.”
“Our opinion?” my dad asked in mock confusion. He looked at mom. “Our youngest is asking for our opinion.”
“Will wonders never cease?” my mom replied, raising her hands and staring at the ceiling.
“You two are hilarious,” I replied, deadpan.
“I say, do it,” my dad said, reaching across the table to give my hand a squeeze.
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah,” my mom said. “If your numbers are right—and I don’t doubt they are, it’s a fantastic idea.”
“Yeah?” I asked again, happily.
“You knew that before you ever came in here,” my dad said proudly.
“I just—” I shook my head. “I mean, I just wanted to make sure that you thought it was feasible. You’re the money guy.”