CHAPTER TWO

DOMINIC STONE

Hanging up the phone, I loosen the tie around my neck and add a meeting with Mike Jones to my calendar along with a note to mention his belligerent assistant. He needs to teach her how to properly handle clients rather than interrogating callers—unless he wants to lose potential business opportunities.

Mike and I met last week at a Chamber of Commerce ribbon cutting on Main Street for the official rebranding of Buttercream Dreams and Brewed into one combined bakery and coffee shop called Crossing's Cups Cakes. Soon Stone Precision will join the chamber now that I feel confident enough to lease an office space due to our improved financial situation.

It was just my luck that Mike owned a couple of buildings offering a prime location for businesses. A month of searching and a networking opportunity later, I'm hoping this is the right office space for us.

My consulting company has been operating from home through video conferences and emails, but it's time for us to have a physical, professional place to meet clients who'd like that option. People trust a company more when they have roots, which I intend to plant here in this small mountain town.

It may sound old-fashioned with the surge of remote business these days, but it's been my dream for so long, I'm not going to give it up now.

However, nothing I've looked at has met my standards.

Suitor's Crossing is a pretty town that offers a lot of opportunity for growth—to become a respected member of the community instead of lost in the sea of people in one of the larger surrounding cities. While the majority of Stone Precision's clients come from Seattle or Everton, our largest lives here. He's the reason I even knew about Suitor's Crossing and decided it was the perfect spot to build my home base.

Tapping the speakerphone button, I call my business partner, Matt, to give him an update about our possible new office space.

"Hey, Dom! What's up?" His cheerful voice rings through the phone, showcasing his perpetual positive outlook—which I need as a blunt realist.

"I thought you'd like to know that I'm meeting someone Thursday about leasing an office space." Turning my attention to the screen in front of me, I exit out of the rental description and move on to answering emails while we talk.

With a few potential clients lined up to help reduce the extra cost of leasing a space, the transition from fully remote to working from an office should be as smooth as possible.

Our business model is simple. I confirm the details and build a solid plan forward, then pass the information to Matt who goes in and presents our suggestions for a business's growth. He's the personality of the company. Smooth-talking and outgoing while I handle most of the research and internal decisions.

"That's awesome, man! I hope this one works out. I'm ready to convert my current office space into that gym I've been wanting."

Of course, that's what concerns him the most.

Matt and I met in college, and through his persistence, we became friends then business partners. But sometimes I wonder how we work so well together since we're completely different.

"And we can start meeting clients in person, in addition to you flying out to see them," I remind him. The travel suits his transient nature compared to my preference for a stable living situation. I like routine. Jetting off to a different city every week doesn't suit me.

"Ha! That, too," he agrees. "Listen, I should go. I'm about to board a flight to Philly for this Hillburg deal. I'll talk to you later!"

"Good luck, and don't forget there's an updated brief in your email." We hang up, and I continue working—almost… happy.

An unfamiliar occurrence lately.

And a feeling I won't trust until my life and business are more stable.

"Here's to the future," I mutter, circling the date of my meeting with Mike to emphasize its importance before turning my attention to our next project. Just because things are going well doesn't mean they always will be, so there's no time to slack off.

Stone Precision is my sole focus.

Nothing—and no one—will ever change that.