33 Things They Don't Tell You About Being Basic

20: Money And Vibes Aren't Equally Important

"You're sure this isn't a waste of your time?" Mason asked from beside me as I set the cheap card table down next to the piano. If I added a tablecloth and a whole lot of little crafts, it would look cute and enticing, but he wasn't quite seeing the vision yet.

"I'm positive. Part of the money goes to the winery, so I don't see how anyone can have a problem with it," I replied.

I took a step back to see my progress. So far, it was just a table, but soon, it would hold some of my most prized crochet that I hadn't sold yet. I scooted the table a little to the left, away from the piano. That way Mason wouldn't have any room to complain about having room.

On the table, I put a cardboard box that contained the goods, from stuffed animals to scarves to hats for the upcoming winter. That lake effect snow was no joke around here, so those warm accessories had to go front and center on the display as soon as I found a tablecloth we weren't using.

"Don't you think that maybe you should be focusing on the job they pay you to do?" Mason asked.

I nodded. "That's exactly what I'm doing. I know you're new around here, but part of this place's charm is that it's always festive and warm and welcoming, and I don't think the customers would like it if we abandoned ship now."

"What about actual money and profits?"

"But what about vibes?"

Mason let out a sigh. "Vibes don't run a business."

That was debatable, but I didn't respond to that. Instead, I changed the subject back to my display. "I think we have some white tablecloths and some brown ones. I'm kind of feeling the brown, since that feels very October to November to me, but do you think white would stand out better?"

"Isn't there literally anyone else you can bother about this?"

Bother? Who the hell would be bothered by me asking for their opinion? "Am I annoying you?"

"I mean, you're talking about tablecloth colors."

I let out a breath and rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to keep this place as happy as I can in the best way I know how."

"Well, you should probably figure out a way to keep the business afloat with money."

"In that case, I should probably just quit, then," I mumbled to no one, and when Mason asked me to repeat myself, I just shook my head.

"Come on, Marigold. I'm literally just trying to help you. I know you've got this little full-time craft dream running through your head, but that's not realistic. Managing this place is, and you're smart enough to figure it all out if you would just sit down, study up, and work at it."

I didn't reply to that right away. I wasn't nearly as smart as liars seemed to think, and I certainly wasn't the sit down to work type person. Where was the fun in being in an office all by myself all day?

Maybe the craft thing was a little silly, but it felt a hell of a lot more meaningful to me than numbers.

"Maybe I'm not cut out for this kind of job. I might just be a waitress and that's all," I said.

"That's not what I said. You're putting words in my mouth," Mason said, but I shook my head.

"No, I'm not. I'm just saying the words that are in my brain right now." I paused to think for a moment. "Maybe I should go with the white. I feel like that'll catch people's eyes better."

"Is this about the tablecloth again?"

I nodded.

"Of course it is. You're impossible to reason with," Mason said.

I shrugged. I wasn't sure why I needed anyone to reason with me when Lydia died and left me in charge.

"I just don't know how you think you're going to get anywhere with the mentality you have. Don't you want something bigger for yourself?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, literally anything. The world's bigger than the town you grew up in," he said.

I looked over my shoulder at the lack of people behind me. It was just between the lunch and dinner crowds, but that didn't mean that there weren't plenty of faces I knew that would politely look at all the items on the table. Sure, there were plenty of people who left to be something bigger and better than the rest of us, but some of us liked the festive charm of the Lakeside Daisy.

The only bigger thing I wanted for myself was a red sailboat just like the one Mason had. Or maybe that exact one. Maybe it was one of a kind, and that made it even better.

"I mean, I probably like my small world better than not having anywhere to call home," I said.

Of course, I didn't really have any people to consider home, but was that such a big deal? I had Blake and Alex, and that was all I needed.

"Well, you're missing out on a whole lot of life, then," Mason said, and even if I didn't like the sound of that, there was probably a little bit of truth to it. But that was why I had to go on a trip to Columbus to sell some of my crochet, and it was what made that red sailboat life feel like a second calling to me.

That red sailboat. It was a pop of color on a lake that was probably polluted, and it was heading straight for the horizon, just out of my sight. It was a life Mason took for granted, sailing wherever he wanted with no cares in the world, and it was a life that was beginning to look like it would never pan out for me. Unless I came up with a new plan, of course.

"Then maybe I should devote my life to what I really want. I mean, right now, all I'm doing is making everything up as I go along. Someone out there knows what to do with my office, just like I know what to do with a crochet hook," I said.

"I don't think you'll like how that'll turn out for you if you just quit right now," Mason said.

"Why does it matter to you how I mess up my life?"

"Why doesn't it matter to you?"

But as far as I was concerned, even though he had that cushy life that I wanted for myself, he wasn't the best person to take advice from. He had a whole boat and sailed it right to Marblehead, Ohio. And Pittsburgh. And probably a bunch of other places I had never even been.

Hm.

As much as my Scorpio skeptic side told me that he hadn't earned my complete trust quite yet, there was something else deep inside of me—something I couldn't quite figure out—that told me that he had a point.

Maybe it was lust.

I looked up at him. His dark hair and its cute little curl to it, his brown eyes that always looked a little judgy, his arms and his hips and—

It was probably lust. I smiled and shook my head. And if it was, at least it would be fun for me in the meantime. 

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Hello, and thank you so much for reading!

So for today's question, are you the type who likes to work from home?

As an introvert, it certainly seems like my answer should be yes to this question, but I really prefer to do my work in a setting where I can have verbal, face-to-face conversations with the people I need to talk to. And for writing, sometimes I like to have some background stimuli to keep my mind on task, so it can be helpful to write somewhere besides my home. Even when I was in school, I liked learning in a classroom much better than learning on a computer. But at the same time, I definitely understand why some people like to work from home too.