Free A Weekend Getaway by Karen Lenfestey

calls. All they cared about was that she
managed to placate dissatisfied customers so they didn’t rant about the company
on Twitter or Facebook or even to their friends over coffee. Somehow she
managed to turn most negative situations around so that the customers remained
content. “I have lots of ideas. We could do rewards for repeat customers or
include samples of other products with each order.”
    Luke tapped his pen on his desk. “All valid points. But none
of that is going to cause an explosion in sales. We need something dramatically
new.”
    She tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, a habit
she’d had since she’d been a little girl. She thought of the elderly man she spoke
with on Friday, the one with a German shepherd named Bruno. “Some of our
capsules are hard to swallow. We get a lot of complaints about how big they
are.”
    “Uh-huh.” The pen kept tapping.
    “My mother can’t swallow pills, no matter what size. I think
there are plenty of people like that.”
    Luke put down his pen, suddenly interested in raking in the
miniature sandbox on his desk.
    Beth ignored his fidgeting. He always fidgeted. “We need
another delivery method. Like a piece of gum or candy.”
    “Gum would still need to be swallowed and the candy has
already been done. Ever heard of Viactiv? Brilliant. Calcium wrapped in
chocolate. We need something like that, Beth.”
    “What about a spray?”
    “What?”
    “A good-tasting supplement that you spray in your mouth.”
    “Hmmm. Interesting.” Luke put the miniature rake down and
looked at her. “Do some research on that. Find out
what percentage of Americans can’t swallow pills. Check patents and see if
anyone else is doing vitamin sprays. Get back to me ASAP.”
    Grinning, Beth sprang from her chair. Maybe this was it.
She’d finally climb up the career ladder at Healthy Habits. If she didn’t
starve to death first.
    # # #
    A meeting reminder popped into Beth’s inbox: Rordan
Photography appt. 5:30 p.m.
    “Crap.”
    She’d forgotten all about it. Rordan was one of the most
sought-after photographers in town and she’d scheduled this weeks ago. These
were supposed to be her engagement photos. The ones she’d dropped all of those
pounds for. The ones that would have naturally come after her tie tack
engagement to Drew.
    Grumbling, Beth dialed the studio. “I’m afraid I can’t make
my appointment tonight.”
    An adolescent girl’s voice answered. “Since you didn’t give
us forty-eight hours’ notice, you’ll still need to pay us $200 for the time
slot.”
    “Can’t you schedule someone else? I mean, these were
supposed to be my engagement pictures, but...I’m not engaged yet.”
    “I’m sorry.” She sounded contrite. “This is my uncle’s
studio and there’s nothing I can do.”
    Beth couldn’t stand the idea of throwing away $200. Growing
up, she envied the kids who got a new box of Crayolas every school year. As a
preacher’s kid, she had to use the same worn-down nubs of wax year after year.
Sometimes she’d have to borrow her friend’s Elmer’s because her glue had
hardened. Appreciating the value of a dollar was as automatic as breathing. For
$200 she could replace the drafty window in Emma’s room or buy her a flower
girl dress. No, she couldn’t give away $200 for nothing. “I’ll figure something
out.”
    She hung up the phone. Perhaps if she went in person, she
could negotiate a credit toward their future sitting fees. She shut down her
computer, turned out her office light and headed toward the on-site daycare
center.
    As soon as she saw Emma’s baby blue eyes, she had the
answer. She’d get the little girl’s picture taken. It would be great to have
professional photos of Drew’s niece. Undoubtedly, Missy had never invested in
any, frittering away any extra cash on cigarettes and beer for her boyfriends.
She’d already missed her chance to capture the adorable baby-on-a-pink-blanket
shots. Beth wasn’t even sure