For several evenings she ran the figures on paper. If she accepted Wade's price, paid down the loan with the proceeds, and sold the remainder slowly, she might still face a sizable balance in March. If she declined and Ironwood never called, she could lose the chance to make a substantial wholesale sale before her deadline. No clever calculation erased the distinction between money in her account and an opportunity in her imagination.
She asked June to come over, because she trusted her friend to disagree. June read the offer from beginning to end, then asked whether the bank would care where the money came from as long as it arrived. Marlene said no. June asked why she had not taken the strongest offer she had seen since opening the business, and Marlene explained what a verified Ironwood lot could be worth to a retailer whose package promised Ironwood-specific smoke.
"That's what you think it can be worth," June said. "You don't have a purchase order." Marlene agreed. June folded her hands and waited, not offering another argument until Marlene answered the silence. "I know what the product is," Marlene said. "I know what I've spent making it. I don't know if that company will need me, but I'm not sure I can afford to sell the one thing that makes my inventory different."
June did not tell her what to do. She helped Marlene calculate a worst-case scenario in which the grocery launch was delayed and the distributor's offer disappeared. Then she pointed out that the business had several smaller sales channels and could survive if Marlene kept finding customers, although paying the bank on time would become a much harder problem. It was a sober answer, neither encouragement nor condemnation, and Marlene found it more useful than being told to follow her dream.
She decided not to reject the offer immediately. Instead, she asked Wade whether he would consider taking a smaller quantity at a price appropriate to her regular product rather than the special traceable inventory. Wade said he might, but his bid was based on one large shipment, and a smaller order would not carry the same terms. He was not offended by the question; he simply had his own arithmetic to respect. Marlene told him she would give him an answer before the deadline.
Christmas came with a hard north wind that rattled the window frames and left a thin skin of ice across the livestock troughs. Marlene spent the morning checking the equipment, then drove to June's house with a small jar of tallow wrapped in a kitchen towel and a homemade pie. June's grown children were visiting, and the house smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and the kind of ordinary family noise Marlene missed. Nobody asked whether the business was succeeding until after dinner, when June's youngest daughter found her standing on the porch looking toward the road.
"Mom says you make cooking fat from barbecue," the young woman said. Marlene explained that she did, and the daughter asked whether it was something she could sell on the internet. Marlene said she already sold a little online, but shipping, customer service, labeling, and inventory tracking were harder than posting a photograph. The daughter offered to look at the website and later sent several practical suggestions about clear product descriptions and how to help customers understand what they were buying.