Page 18

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you to offer,” I say, not sure how to navigate this situation.

Luke might not be my favorite person in the world, but we’ve already made some progress, and getting involved in this conversation with Jacqueline—in front of Nora, no less—feels like it would not only be a disservice to me and Luke, but to Isla too.

Which is something I refuse to do. “And don’t be too hard on him about the first day of school.

Mistakes happen, but Isla is a great girl and it’s obvious that you’re both wonderful parents. ”

I thought I sounded fair and diplomatic, but if the sourpuss look on her face is anything to go by, it wasn’t the response she was looking for.

As much as I’d like to backtrack and jump on the “fuck Lucas” train, a train that, not too long ago, I was the conductor of, I stand strong. It’s the right decision.

Even if it’s the boring one.

Plus, it’s not lost on me that while she’s throwing Luke under the bus, she’s very conveniently leaving out the part where she showed up to back-to-school night drunk and hit on a married parent.

“I think that’s enough talk about Lucas for the night.” Jacqueline claps her hands together twice, much like I do when I want to garner my students’ attention. “If everyone could please follow me, we have a special surprise waiting in the living room.”

While all of the sisters in skincare follow her out of the kitchen like worker ants following their queen, I hang back and top off my glass with one of the many open bottles of wine scattered across the island.

“Sooo…” Keisha says once we’re alone. “Matching tattoos? Exactly how sure are you that you didn’t sign up for a cult?”

“You’re so dramatic.” I evade the question because after tonight, the answer is only about 80 percent.

And while that’s still a passing grade, if I let Keisha catch so much as a whiff of doubt, she’ll never let me live it down.

“I’m not getting a tattoo. My mom would kill me if my first one was that unoriginal. ”

Like my dear friend Keisha, my mom is a big fan of the arts. If I put something on my body because other people did it, and not because it was something personal and special to me, she might disown me.

I love my mom!

She can’t disown me over a tattoo!

“Yes, because the lack of originality is the problem here.” Keisha rolls her eyes, snatching the glass out of my hand and taking a sip.

“Hey!” I try to grab it back, but she has fast reflexes and longer legs, and easily steps out of my reach.

“You’re driving and you have a presentation you need to watch.

” She looks me dead in my eyes before chugging the rest of the glass with the practiced ease of a fraternity president.

She sets the empty glass in the crowded farmhouse sink and snaps in my face.

“Chop chop. Don’t keep Jacqueline waiting. ”

I eye another bottle of wine before deciding against it. I already think I’m not Jacqueline’s favorite person and keeping her waiting will only make things worse. I don’t want to care, but I really, really want her to like me.

Plus, even if I never come to another Petunia Lemon event with her, I’m still her daughter’s teacher and pissing a parent off in August would make for a very long year.

“Fine, but since you took my wine, know that I’m down to only owing you one bourbon.” I stick out my tongue and run through the doorway the other women went through before she can launch a counterargument and convince me that I owe her four drinks.

It takes me a second to find the group since this house doesn’t have the open concept most modern builds come equipped with these days. Still, though it’s not small, it’s not a mansion and it doesn’t take me long to find the living room and Keisha comes sauntering in right after me.

“Now that we’ve had a little pleasure, it’s time to get to business.” Jacqueline stands at the front of the room and doesn’t even acknowledge our presence. Her blonde hair, Petunia Pink sweater, and distressed jeans are a stark contrast to the traditional, classic look of the room.

While the kitchen has been updated to look much more modern, the living room is chock full of the warmth and character only a house built in the early 1900s can possess.

Dark wood molding runs around the base and the top of the walls.

The arch doorway mirrors the arched windows at the back of the room, and the original hardwood floors gleam as they peek out from beneath the oversized rugs protecting them.

But even though the architecture is something off of my Pinterest boards, the decor is sad.

Not ugly by any means, but when I look around the space, I have no idea who Jacqueline is or what she likes.

Besides a picture or two of Isla, this room could belong to anyone in America.

Honestly, even the Pottery Barn sales floor has more personality.

I’d kill—or get an infinity sign tattoo—for the chance to get in here and fill this space with a little color.

“If you could ask for one thing to help grow your business,” Jacqueline asks her enraptured crowd, “what would you ask for?”

“More sample products!” someone shouts.

“Retail space,” another person calls out.

“Dedicated spa time.” The woman in front of me laughs.

“Yes! Yes to all of that!” Jacqueline yells, and I can see her cheeks turn pink from the back of the room.

“What if I told you that Petunia Lemon has been listening to us? What if I told you they figured out a way to give us exactly what we all need to not only take our businesses to the next level, but to outsell and out-provide brick and mortar spas?”

The energy bouncing off of everyone in the room is palpable.

I know I can’t afford to invest any more money until I start seeing some return on my initial Petunia Lemon investment, but I can’t help but be swept up in the excitement happening in front of me.

The anticipation is contagious, and Jacqueline is a master at commanding a room.

Everyone is practically jumping out of their seats waiting for her to announce the big reveal.

“What do you think?” She looks over her shoulder to a martini-flushed Nora. “Should we tell them?”

“Hmmm…” Nora purses her lips and taps a long fingernail against her chin. “I’m not sure they’re excited enough. I don’t think they really want to know.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if these two threw it to commercial with the way they’re dragging this out.

I look over at Keisha, expecting her to roll her eyes at the dramatics happening around us, but even she’s gotten sucked in.

Ryan Seacrest be damned, Nora and Jacqueline need to host a competition show of their own.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jacqueline arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow, and her shrewd gaze cuts through her living room packed with her sisters in skincare…and Keisha. “Who wants to show how much they want it?”

Hands shoot up all around me, but it’s Grace, a petite little blonde with a timid smile and kind eyes, who leaps out of her spot on the couch. “I’m going to reach three thousand PV this month and sign three new recruits. I’m ready for Petunia Lemon to help me get there!”

“Yes! I love that!” Nora steps forward. “Who can beat Grace?”

“I’m going to recruit five new empowered skincare representatives and reach five thousand PV for the first time!” Janet ups Grace’s goal, and the room loses its ever-loving mind.

I feel like I’m right back at the convention. The energy in the room is electric, and it makes me feel like I can do and achieve anything I set my mind to. Jacqueline and Nora must feel it too.

“Whoa! I think they’re ready!” Jacqueline turns to Nora, and a conspiratorial grin spreads across her ageless face. “Can you please go gather the goods?”

“Of course!” Nora attempts a curtsy, but the small motion almost sends her toppling over.

I’m pretty sure her bloodstream is 90 percent gin at this point.

I’m not sure she’s capable of doing anything other than passing out, but she somehow manages to wobble out of the room without face-planting into the thin, original oak floors.

“Holy shit.” Keisha’s whisper blends seamlessly with the hushed conversations surrounding us. “I didn’t know Nora went so hard on the weekends. Are we going to have to bring her home?”

I don’t even have time to respond before Nora appears with a box that’s bigger than most of my students.

I thought the room was loud before, but I seriously underestimated the vocal range of my fellow sisters in skincare.

I went to a Harry Styles concert once, and this beats that decibel range by about a million… conservatively.

“We all know that Petunia Lemon products are the best in the world. We’ve seen firsthand not only what they can do for our skin, with their world-class serums and the sunscreen that I’m convinced will keep us young forever, but we’ve watched them change our lives.

” Jacqueline begins her speech and doesn’t miss a beat.

“Thousands of women just like me joined with small dreams. Most of us are hoping to earn a few extra dollars to sign our kids up for dance lessons and maybe meet a friend or two. But we quickly learned that Petunia Lemon doesn’t do anything small. Especially not dreams.”

She pauses to allow time for light applause, just like I’m sure she practiced in the mirror a hundred times.

“Through this community of strong, passionate women, we’ve built empires from our kitchen tables with our babies by our sides and created lives we never need to vacation from.

And I don’t know about you, but I always girlboss, I sometimes gaslight”—she takes a measured pause and places her hands on her hips—“but I never, ever gatekeep.”

Just as planned, the joke is a hit. And luckily for me, the laughter is loud enough that only I hear Keisha gag.

“Knock it off,” I hiss beneath my breath.

“I’m so sorry.” The words ooze with sarcasm. “Next time I’ll be sure to laugh at the joke centered around manipulation and mental abuse.”

It’s settled.

This is the last Petunia Lemon meeting for Keisha.

I’m sure she’ll be crushed.

“And now, thanks to our amazing company, we have everything we need to grow our even better community.” With the flourish of Vanna White, she opens the box and reveals a gleaming set of equipment that I’ve only ever seen on TV.

“Introducing the Petunia Pro Facial Spa! This professional-quality microdermabrasion and red-light machine will turn every home into a med spa and every friend into a client. Machines similar to this run for thousands of dollars, but thanks to the geniuses at Petunia Lemon, we’re able to purchase this for a steal at eight hundred dollars.

I know that still might seem like a big investment, but because of Petunia Lemon’s money-back guarantee, this is as risk-free as it comes! ”

As someone who would classify their luck as questionable, I’ve never been one to imagine what it would be like if I won the lottery.

Hell, I’ve never even bothered to buy a ticket.

But suddenly, in an old Victorian house in North Denver, surrounded by twenty of my closest acquaintances, I feel like I just struck gold.

The mass-market art prints framed on the walls rattle, and the glasses on top of the tables shake as everyone leaps out of their seats.

Ear-piercing shrieks and peals of laughter cascade throughout the room.

The joy and possibility are infectious, and I can’t help getting swept up in the excitement.

I jump into the group hug in front of me, spinning in circles and screaming along with the rest of the room.

I take out my phone with the rest of my sisters in skincare and follow Jacqueline’s directions to log in to our Petunia Lemon accounts.

She reads through the product page, and the excitement in the room grows with each benefit listed.

By the time she finishes, I can’t enter my credit card information fast enough.

Beside me, disappointment and fury roll off of Keisha in equal measures as I pick the payment plan that works best for me.

I know she doesn’t think I should spend more money on Petunia Lemon than I already have, and I’ll love her forever for caring about me, but I just know in my gut that this will be worth it.

They say you have to spend money to make money and with the Petunia Pro Facial Spa, I’m going to prove them right.