admitted. “Do you want to go out?”
They both glanced at the back door, then at her. She sighed. She’d been very clear with Great-Aunt Cheryl. The last thing Harper wanted was one more life-form to take care of. She had enough on her plate—but had the woman listened? Okay, sure, technically, but not really. At the end of the day, Harper was still going to be a pet parent, whether she liked it or not. Becca had taken care of Jazz over the weekend, but the dog was still new to her. How long until her daughter was too busy or wasn’t home to handle things?
Harper’s cell rang. She pushed the button on her Bluetooth headset. “This is Harper.”
“Harper, it’s Cathy. Do you have a sec?”
“Sure.”
She carried her coffee back to her office, then quickly found Cathy’s file. The event planner used Harper to fill in when she needed an extra pair of creative hands. Harper could address two hundred envelopes in decorative calligraphy or paint a pin-the-tail-on-the-elephant poster or make custom napkin rings for a high-end dinner party.
“Okay, I talked to my clients, the ones hosting a fiftieth anniversary party for the parents. They’ve chosen the gift bag they want.”
“Great.” Harper sorted through the pictures she’d taken and slipped into the file. Next to each were the supplies needed, along with what they would cost and how long it took to assemble each bag.
She’d created three custom gift bags—not what went in them, just the bags themselves. Cathy had wanted them to be special, so they were all unique and not easy to put together.
“I have my information right here,” Harper said.
“They’ve picked number three. Now you said it was going to be twenty dollars a bag, but we both know that’s ridiculous. I told them I could get it for five dollars. I hope you’re okay with that.”
Harper stared at the picture, then scanned her notes. The bag was rose gold with a raffia handle. She’d applied delicate printed paper from France to the front of the bag, then edged it in tiny beads. After making by hand a flower done in shades of gold, she’d stenciled on the couple’s name and the date of their wedding, fifty years ago.
The price she’d quoted wasn’t just all the paper and trim, it was the time. Her heart sank. Cathy frequently tried to undercut Harper’s prices and most of the time Harper went along with it, but there was no way she could do the bag for that.
“The supplies cost more than five dollars,” Harper said, trying to sound firm. “It will take me thirty minutes to complete each one.”
“Can’t you work faster? My God, it’s a gift bag. Seriously, Harper, no one is going to pay twenty dollars for that.”
“Then they should pick one of the other ones.”
“They want the one they want.”
Harper’s stomach tightened. Irritation mingled with fear. She needed the work, but refused to take a loss. “The paper is imported...there are multiple layers. If you want something unique and handmade, that is the cost. I’m sorry, but my price is firm.”
“I’m sorry, too. I hate to lose you as a resource, but if you’re not going to work with me, then I don’t know if we can keep doing business together.”
The threat was like a kick to the stomach. Harper didn’t think she made any noise, but suddenly Jazz and Thor were both standing next to her, looking intent. Thor glanced toward the doorway and growled low in his throat.
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had stood up for her like that. The unexpected support brought tears to her eyes, which was completely insane. She swallowed and petted both of them before clearing her throat.
For a second, she wondered if she could somehow buy the supplies cheaper. Maybe on eBay. No, she told herself. There was no time to search them out.
“I’m sorry, Cathy. That’s my price.”
“Then goodbye.”
The other woman hung up. Harper did her best to ignore the knot in her stomach. She drew in a breath. “I might have just lost a client. No problem for you, Thor. Your owner has plenty of money.”
She wasn’t exactly sure how Lucas had so much cash to throw around. He drove a very expensive two-seater Mercedes convertible and she didn’t think detectives made that much. Still, she wasn’t going to ask too many questions. He paid his monthly bill the same day he received it—she knew because she paid his bills for him and why, yes, she did pay herself first. It was one of the very few perks of her work.
She returned her attention to the boutique website and continued to add pictures and text until she was happy with the layout. She saved everything, then sent a note and the link to the owner, asking for feedback.
“That’s done,” she told the dogs, who were still watching her. She swiveled in her chair to face them. “This would be a lot easier if you’d just tell me what you need.”
Before they could answer, her phone rang again.
“This is Harper.”
“It’s Cathy. You’re being ridiculous, so you know, but you do good work and I want to see if we can find a point of compromise. How about ten dollars a bag and I’ll need them in three days?”
Harper held in a groan. There were forty bags, at about thirty minutes each, plus she had to go to three different stores to buy the supplies. That was twenty hours of work plus all the running around, for a grand total of four hundred dollars.
She didn’t dare do the math to figure out the pitiful sum she would be making by the hour, but if she stayed up most of tonight and tomorrow night, she could meet the deadline.
“Harper?”
“Fine. Ten dollars a bag.”
“Great. I’ll let them know and I’ll be by Thursday morning to pick them up. You’re the best, Harper. Thanks.”
Cathy hung up before Harper could say anything. Harper returned her attention to the dogs.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she muttered. “I’m letting her take advantage of me. That I’m probably making two dollars an hour on this job. Well, it’s not this job, is it? It’s all the other work she brings me.”
Jazz’s steady gaze never wavered. Harper sighed.
“You’re right. I let her take advantage of me and that doesn’t make any sense. I should be firm. I should tell her my price and stick to it. I’m training her to always undercut me. I get that.”
She was sure the dog had more to say, but before they could continue the conversation, the doorbell rang. Thor and Jazz immediately rose. Jazz looked at Thor, who gave a low warning bark.
“Yes,” Harper said, pushing past them. “I heard it, too, but thanks for mentioning it.”
The dogs kept pace with her, but didn’t walk ahead of her or run. When they reached the front door, they both sat and waited.
“I
