And hey,” she shrugs, slaps the mirror closed, “it doesn’t hurt to hope, right?”
Lani, blissfully ensconced in her bubble of enthusiasm, is clearly oblivious to that.
“Sales should reach 300k, easy, by the year’s end.” She beams at me from the passenger seat. “I think I might need to hire soon.”
I exit the FDR, keeping my face neutral. “That’s a very optimistic projection.”
Her eyebrows dance. “It’s going great so far. Two months in, I sold seven hundred bottles. How awesome is that?”
Create a free account to keep reading.
