Ian looked up from his long-standing perch on the couch to see his housekeeper, Winnie, glaring at him through the doorway. She had a vacuum at her side and a look of disgust on her face. That wasn’t good. He was obviously cramping her style.
“Maybe,” he said, being honest. He didn’t have plans to get off this couch anytime soon. He was just going to sit here until he figured out what do to. So far, no luck. Perhaps he should have taken off more than two days from work. “Why?”
The older woman walked into the room and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I have things to do and for once you’re actually underfoot. You don’t pay me to just sit around and watch you mope.”
Ian’s brow went up at Winnie’s sharp tone. “I’m not stopping you from working. Just vacuum around me. Or clean the other four-thousand square feet I’m not occupying. And I’m not moping,” he added.
“Sure you’re not. You’re home in your pajamas instead of at work in a suit. You’re strumming your guitar and playing moody songs instead of guiding the careers of your artists. Not to mention that I found fifteen candy bar wrappers in the trash can this morning. Tell me you’re not moping.”
Ian looked at Winnie and frowned. Had he really eaten that many? So maybe he was moping. So what? “I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. Am I not allowed to take a little time to deal with all of it?”
Winnie came over to the couch and sat beside him. “Of course you are, Ian. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through with Missy and then, so soon after, with Bree. I’m just worried because I’ve never seen you like this. Not in the five years I’ve worked for you. Not even after you found out Missy was pregnant—and don’t bother trying to tell me you were happy about that because I know you weren’t.
“You’ve been as precise as Swiss clockwork for the past five years and it wasn’t until now that you’ve gotten me worried.” Winnie gestured toward the guitar. “I didn’t even know you played the guitar, Ian. I’ve been cleaning this place all these years and have never run across one. Or sheet music. Or a picture or anything that would make me think you even played an instrument. Where did this one come from?”
“From the mountain house. I brought it home with me. This is the guitar I bought myself when I was thirteen.”
“Why haven’t you ever played music around here before?”
“I gave it up when I dropped out of school and started working for the record company.”
“Why?”
Ian sighed. He’d just been through all this with Bree. He didn’t really want to rehash it, especially because now he realized it had been the wrong choice and justifying his actions was more difficult. “Because I wasn’t any good.”
“That’s funny,” Winnie noted. “You’ve sounded pretty good to me.”
“Thanks, Winnie.” Ian wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but he appreciated it, anyway. It made him feel good to have someone other than Bree tell him that, even though Winnie’s praise felt more like that of a mother.
“So what’s changed that you’re playing again all of a sudden? Wait,” she said, “let me guess. It’s about Bree.”
He nodded. “She encouraged me to start up again. I used to play when we were dating in college.”
“Well, she was right,” Winnie said. “You’re good. You should play more often.”
Ian sighed. “I just don’t have the time, Winnie. You know I’m always working. I’m either at the studio or working here in my office.”
“What about when you were snowed in all that time? Did the world unravel?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Did your well-trained employees handle everything while you were away?”
“Yes.” Keith had gone above and beyond, as had several others at the studio. He’d already put in some paperwork with payroll to give them bonuses. They deserved it.
“So why do you have to do everything?”
That made Ian frown. It was his company. Why wouldn’t he? “What do you mean?”
“You have worked yourself to the bone for years building this label. You’ve achieved success. Things are going well. You don’t have to work as hard anymore. You’ve just admitted that you have competent staff. Why not take a step back? Let them take on greater responsibility?”
“I’m not just going to sit back—”
“I’m not suggesting you stop going in to the office,” Winnie interrupted. “I’m suggesting that you don’t have to be responsible for everything. You always put work first because you think that’s the only way to be successful. But you’re allowed to have a life outside of the office. If that life includes music or a family, great. And even if you just spend all your free time in the bathtub playing with rubber duckies, it’s up to you. But don’t waste any more time telling yourself you can’t do it.”
She was right. He paid her to help run his life, to almost fill the role of a wife, and she did it well. She was an incredible cook, she was well organized and she was an excellent sounding board. He didn’t know how many times he’d solved a problem by talking it over with Winnie while she cooked or ironed clothes. He needed to give Winnie a raise, too. He’d get his accountant on that immediately.
Winnie patted him on knee. “I’ve seen you work miracles with your business over the years, Ian. You can do anything you want. Why can’t you do this?”