She smiled, then explained her plan for The Good Life. She even had a rough sketch of a logo. She laid out a mess of loose papers, all the ideas that had poured out of her the night before, as if a creative dam had broken inside her.

It had been ages since she’d had that kind of creative burst. Everything about it felt right. But afterward, everything about working for the hotel felt wrong.

“I think I need to give you my two weeks’ notice.”

Eric leaned back in his chair and looked her over for a brief moment. “Don’t you think that’s a little rash?”

“No,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Louisa, you can’t quit your job to start a business. What about your mortgage? You just bought that house.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ll figure it out. I don’t want a safety net. I want to make this work. And we’ll still work together. I’ll still refer people here.”

His laugh bore an edge of condescension.

“What?”

He shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“Eric.”

“It’s just another one of your ideas,” he said. “I don’t think starting a business is something you just jump into.”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said. “I’ve been doing this job here for the last five years.”

“Right,” he said. “You’re really good at it. But numbers and marketing and finding clients and paying taxes—how are you going to keep up with all that?”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t thought of that.

“Maybe just work on it in your free time, and when you have a solid business plan, you can move forward. You know, once you know you’re not going to fall flat on your face.”

She felt like a kite that had just lost its lift. “Right,” she whispered. Her eyes had filled with tears at the reminder of who she was—a woman people didn’t take seriously. Oh, that’s Louisa. She’s quirky.

And she was. She knew it. But that didn’t mean she was incompetent.

Eric obviously disagreed.

“It’s a good idea, Lou,” he said. “Let’s talk about it more later. Maybe I can help with your business plan.”

But all she heard was You can’t do this—or anything else—without me.

She’d left his office in a daze, the wind stolen from her sails. She hadn’t fallen apart, which was major progress, but the idea had lost its luster.