A Million Little Things (Mischief Bay, #3)

She greeted their volunteer manning the reception desk, then walked back to Bea Gentry’s office.

Bea, the director of the organization and one of the women who had recruited Pam two years ago, was about Pam’s age. She dressed in pantsuits and always wore a cameo on her lapel. Bea’s oldest boy and Pam’s youngest son had been best friends through high school.

Pam sat across from her and let Lulu out of her tote.

“You’re looking smug,” Bea said by way of greeting. “What have you been up to?”

Pam laughed. “I’m shocked that it shows, but you’re right. I’m feeling very good about things. I might have found the right woman for Steven.”

“I can’t believe you’re even looking. My kids would kill me if I tried.”

“Not if you got it right. Besides, Steven needs me to meddle. He’s finally given up his flavor of the week, which is great, but he’s not getting serious about anyone either. It’s time.”

She knew part of the reason for Steven’s change in behavior had been the death of his father. John’s unexpected passing had affected them all. Pam had been stuck in a kind of grief that had threatened to overwhelm her, while Steven had taken over the family plumbing business years before he’d expected he would. At first the responsibility had weighed on him, but he’d quickly grown into the position and now was doing a great job as president of the company. Which meant it was time for him to find the right woman.

“I wouldn’t have gone looking for someone for him,” Pam said. “But if I happen to run into her, then that’s hardly my fault.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll remind you of that when you have a total disaster on your hands. Remind you and say ‘I told you so.’”

Pam laughed. “That’s not going to happen.”

Lulu finished exploring the room and trotted over to Bea, who scooped her up and held her close.

“How’s my best girl?” she asked in a soft voice. “I like the buttons on your sweater. It takes a very fashion-forward girl to pull that off and, of course, you do.”

Lulu gave her a kiss, then relaxed in her embrace. Pam supposed there were people who would say her dog was spoiled, and while that might be true, Lulu was a faithful companion who had been by her side every second after John’s death. The little girl had missed her dad as much as everyone else in the family.

Pam shook off the memories and reached into her tote. This time she pulled out a file. “Tell me about Filia,” she said, opening the folder.

“We helped her five years ago, to get her nail salon up and running, and now she’s thriving. I think you’re going to like working with her.”

Pam was sure her friend was right. Bea had always done a good job of matching clients with coordinators. Moving Women Forward had a simple mission statement—they were there to help female entrepreneurs. That was it. A simple, clear vision. If a woman wanted to start a business, MWF was there to offer advice on everything from what to expect start-up costs to be to how to get a business license. If a woman already had a business up and running, MWF would provide mentoring, assistance with figuring out how to do payroll, manage employees and inventory. There were even cash grants and loans available. The services themselves were provided free of charge, but the client had to be accepted first, and that wasn’t easy.

Over the past couple of years Pam had learned that a lot of people said they wanted to open a business, but not very many of them were willing to put in the hard work required to make it happen. MWF insisted that clients take the first steps on their own—to show they were serious.

“I have a few ideas,” Pam said. “Her plans are ambitious. Let’s see if she can put them into action.”

Pam worked for MWF as a volunteer mentor. She took on a handful of clients every year. She was their point person. If she couldn’t answer a question, she would find someone who could. If the client was applying for a grant through MWF, Pam helped with the paperwork, then was her advocate through the process.

Filia hoped to expand her nail salon into a day spa. According to her paperwork, the space next door to her salon would be available in a few months. The location was good and she was already at capacity with her nail salon. It seemed to be the next logical step.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Pam said. She stood and looked at her dog. “You want to stay with Bea?”

Lulu wagged her tail and gave a little woof of agreement.

“Then I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

“If she gets restless, I’ll take her for a walk,” Bea promised.

“Thanks.”

Pam walked down the short hallway to one of the small meeting rooms. Filia, a petite, dark-haired woman in her late thirties, was already there. She stood when Pam entered and offered a nervous smile.

Pam introduced herself and they shook hands. They both sat at a small, round table in the center of the room.

Pam left the file closed. There was no need to get into the weeds just yet. Better that she and Filia get to know each other.

“Bea tells me you want to expand your business. Tell me about that.”

Filia’s brown eyes brightened. “I started my nail business five years ago with two girls. Now I have fifteen. We’re open seven days a week. Walk-ins and regulars. A year ago, I started offering chair massages for clients, either before or after their nail appointments. Six months ago, I began selling a skin care line. It’s doing well.”

Filia leaned forward. “My younger sister moved in with my family two years ago. She went to school to be an aesthetician. She’s worked for a big spa for several months now. She would come work for me and maybe a couple of her friends. I know how I want the space next door to be. I have some of the money, but not enough. I need to get a loan.”