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The Only Purple House in Town (Fix-It Witches, #4)(45)

Author:Ann Aguirre

Besides, for the first time, Iris’s shop had so many orders that she had no time left to work on designs or make jewelry. Almost every piece she’d uploaded had been sold, and now she was busy with the fulfillment end of the business. She had gift boxes stacked around, several thank-you notes and coupons, and another pile of padded envelopes that toppled over while she was looking for her address stamp.

“I started off so organized,” she muttered.

But her bedroom/studio looked like a cyclone had hit it, and she hadn’t even gotten the jewelry in the boxes yet. She let out a frustrated breath and tried to decide where to start. This was where her brain often got uncooperative. The more she had to do, the less she could do anything at all.

Just then, someone knocked. What a glorious excuse to procrastinate. Iris called, “Come in!”

And Rowan stepped into her room for the first time. “Oh, wow. You…seem to have a lot going on. This isn’t urgent. It can wait.”

“It’s fine. I’m still trying to get my bearings. I hate being a failure, but I wasn’t ready for success either.” Ruefully, she gestured at the mess surrounding her.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Rowan asked.

She started to say, “No, it’s fine,” as a knee-jerk reaction, but then she paused. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to offer, just because you’re staying here.”

“Actually, that’s why I came up,” Rowan said.

“Oh?”

“Well, Mira told me she’s getting a discount on rent for spells, and Henry Dale fixes stuff around the house, right? So I was just wondering if there was anything I could do. I’m an artist…well, aspiring anyway. I’m hoping to take commissions eventually. I just wrapped up a web comic, and I’m taking digital art classes online.”

“You’re already an artist,” Iris corrected. “If you make art, you’re an artist. What you’re trying to do is make it financially viable.”

Rowan smiled. “True. Right now, I have a few subscribers, just enough to pay my phone bill and that’s about it.”

“It’s a start!” Iris paused, considering the offer. “Okay, so, were you serious about wanting to help? I could use someone on the fulfillment end. I can show you how.”

Iris pulled up the first order, matched it with the product purchased, printed the label she’d prepared, and affixed it to the center of the padded envelope. Next, she stamped it and put the thank-you note and coupon inside. Final step, check that she was enclosing the right necklace in the box, slip it inside, and seal.

“That’s it. I have forty-three more orders to process, almost my entire backlog of jewelry. Which is amazing, but if I don’t get some new pieces made, the shop will lose momentum. I’m finally getting eyeballs, so I can’t afford to—”

“This looks simple enough,” Rowan cut in. “If you trust me, I’m happy to take over. Minimum wage is fine, but I’d appreciate it if you would reduce the rent by that amount each month, however much I work.”

“I told you not to worry about the rent,” Iris said. “It’s—”

“‘It’s not a big room, and it doesn’t cost much.’ But I love that little room. I’m putting my own art on the walls a little at a time, and I don’t want to feel like I’m mooching off everyone else, okay? I understand Mira, she feels protective, but—”

“Nobody thinks you’re mooching. It’s only been a few days.”

“I want to pay my own way,” Rowan insisted.

Fine. I get it.

“Okay, Rowan. You have a deal. But if you put in more hours than your rent costs, I’m paying you.” It hit her all of a sudden. “Oh, lord. This means I have to figure out W-2s or…what are those forms called?”

They stared at Iris blankly, then shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never officially had a job, so I never filed. I read that I don’t need to worry about it if I earn less than five grand a year.”

“You might want to check into that, just in case.”

Rowan sighed. “I’ll add it to my list.”

As Iris settled in at her desk to bring some of her sketches to life, Rowan got to work packaging up the orders. Iris didn’t pay attention to how long it took, but a beep drew her gaze. “That’s fifty-six minutes. Everything is ready to ship. Do you want me to keep a log?”

“There’s probably an app,” Iris joked. “And if there isn’t, Eli can make one.”

As she’d suspected, she found a free one supported by ads and recorded Rowan’s time. “All set. Let me show you how to schedule the pickup.”

It was simple on the postal service website, but Rowan bit their lip, looking worried. “Is it really okay for me to use your login?”

Iris grinned. “I trust you. Besides, what can you even do in there besides order a bunch of stamps?”

“True enough. I’ll take these downstairs and leave them by the front door. They’ll be picked up at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”

“That’s perfect. I’ll add an hour to tomorrow’s time sheet since you’ll be waiting for the mail carrier.”

“That doesn’t really count as work, though.”

She folded her arms, brooking no disagreement on this point. “It absolutely does! That’s time you could be devoting to your art.”

Rowan appeared to consider arguing anyway, but they ended up yielding. “Okay. When you put it that way… Anyhow, it makes me happy that I can pitch in. I want to be useful to the Iris Collective.”

She burst out laughing. “Is that what Mira calls us? I prefer Violet Gables.” She took a moment to explain the name.

“That’s so cute. It makes me want to draw the house even more. I’m looking for my next web comic idea, wonder if people would be interested in reading about us…” Looking pensive, Rowan loaded the packages in the hamper Iris used for transporting her creations and wandered downstairs.

“I’d read it,” Iris said to nobody in particular.

Then she got back to work.

* * *

Eli’s phone pinged, signaling a new message. There were also several emails waiting for his attention, including an invitation to a Zoom meeting—to further discuss the huge proposal that Liz had been enthusing over for the past few weeks. He still had mixed feelings. While he might not be rich the way some app developers were, he also enjoyed the freedom he currently had in deciding how a project would go.

If he signed on, agreeing to work for someone else, even as a contractor, they could control more than he felt comfortable with. Which was why he’d agreed to attend the video conference but had yet to sign anything despite the seductive figures being tossed around as enticement.

Liz: Why aren’t you more excited about this? This is life-changing! But instead of getting on board, you’re fiddling around in Illinois. How long are you planning to stay anyway?

Eli: That’s a good question. I admire your perspicacity greatly, have I said that?

Liz: And that’s not an answer.

Eli: No idea. I’m…figuring some things out.

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