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We Interrupt This Date Page 5
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“Hmm, Ms. Caraway, so you’ve had one employer in the past twenty years. The job lasted ten months and then you left. Why did you resign from your former position? What have you been doing for the last six months other than looking for a new opportunity?”
“Well, you see, I’ve been trying to better myself through a series of self-actualization exercises that will enable me to move up in the corporate world. I plan to be a great asset to potential employers and help them achieve their goals and resolve business issues within a new paradigm shift.”
I almost gagged. Sure, that little speech should get me hired in a flash.
Even if I made up a plausible excuse, they’d know I wouldn’t leave a job before I had another one, not with jobs scarcer right now than gold coins lying in plain view on King Street. Blinking back tears, I put my fingers on my keyboard. Just because I was fired didn’t mean I was going to sit here for the rest of the day and feel sorry for myself.
Odell finally left for lunch, the engine of his SUV rumbling low and deep outside my window as if the macho sound could make up for his whiney voice. Patty waited until he cleared the parking lot before she threaded her way between shelves and fetched up in my office doorway. Silver earrings the size of saucers dangled from her ears and a matching necklace that must have weighed five pounds hung around her neck. She was wearing an ankle length dress tie-dyed in the blue and yellow colors of an Amazon parrot.
“I swear I didn’t mean to tell on you. When I said you were leaving to start a business, Odell had a total fit. He kept waving his short little arms around like the flippers on an upside down turtle.” Her expression didn’t look nearly as apologetic as I thought it should. She pulled the front of her dress away from her chest and fanned herself with her other hand. “It’s sweltering in your office. How do you stand it? Listen, sweetie, I can do you a tarot reading if you want. Give you an idea of how your ghost business is going to work out. Hey, stop looking at me like I stabbed you or something. You were going to leave anyway, right?”
I bit my lip. She could stand there cooling her chest in my office that was hot because the window was stuck shut and Odell wouldn’t let me have a fan. She could say she was sorry when she wasn’t, having already forgiven herself, when here I was out of a job and in danger of losing everything.
A surge of anger rose toward my throat and I fought it back down. After all, I was the one at fault, I was the one who couldn’t keep quiet last night.
“You’re right.” I forced a smile, showing my teeth. “No harm done.”
“Of course not. The Universe knows what it’s doing, it always does. You’ll see when the money starts rolling in from that new job. When’s your last day?”
“I have a week. I’m supposed to train Odell’s niece to take over.” I hoped she liked rude phone calls from customers with cash flow problems.
“I’m going to miss you.” Patty leaned over and gave me a hug. “But who needs Odell, anyway? Stingy. Attitude problem. Drives a car that’s five sizes too big for him so he can compensate.”
“Gee, you think so?”
Patty read at least one self-help book a week and was forever giving me psychological sketches on everyone we knew. I had little faith in her skills, but her lectures on topics such as the inner enabler crossing paths with the classic energy vampire usually made for interesting conversation.
She wanted me to go to lunch with her at Sticky Fingers, but I wasn’t in the mood for ribs. I wasn’t even in the mood for lunch. After she left, I got myself a cup of coffee from the “break room,” a large closet at the back of the store with a coffeepot and a broken microwave crammed into a corner next to a box of paper towels.
Then I logged on to the Internet and started my job search with the online newspaper ads. I found only three positions to apply for, and two of those asked for legal office experience, which I did not have. The other said someone with a good phone voice was needed immediately in a vet’s office. I supposed my phone voice was as good as anyone’s. My fingers shaking, I punched in the number.
“I’m calling about the receptionist position you advertised in the Post and Courier.”
“Right, that ad is pulling a ton of responses. Before I decide if I should have you come in to fill out an application and talk to the doctor, tell me a little bit about yourself. Do you have receptionist experience?” The female voice on the other end of the line sounded like it belonged to someone who was pursing her lips between each sentence.
I glanced at my desk searching for inspiration. Once a customer had come into my office and paid in person. Another time, someone had stood in the doorway and asked if Odell was around.
“Sort of,” I replied. “In my current position I’m responsible for answering the phone and doing the billing as well as dealing with customers who drop by.” Both of them.
“Okay, you work in an office; good for you. But do you have veterinary office experience? Dr. Turnbill specializes in reptiles and he likes to hire people who are used to handling animals.”
“No, but I love animals and I learn fast.” I could even learn to love snakes and lizards if it got me a job. “My mother has two Chihuahuas,” I added, then clamped my mouth shut so I couldn’t say anything else stupid.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see any point in letting you come in. We have a number of better qualified applicants.”
Better qualified applicants? Somehow I doubted the streets of Charleston were overrun with reptile handlers who had office experience. But unless I decided to stake out Dr. Turnbill’s office and speak to him when the dragon manning the front desk left for the day, I wasn’t going to get the job.
I sat back with a sigh. It had taken me six weeks to find this job and that was back when the paper carried three times as many ads as it did now. I could apply for the two legal office positions--assuming the gatekeepers who controlled access to the applications would let me--and hope for a miracle.
If there was only me to consider that’s what I might have done. But I couldn’t forget my son. Even with his scholarship, money from his father, and a part-time job, Christian needed my help.
I turned sideways to face the phone. I glared at it like it was my mortal enemy. When it didn’t burst into flames or melt into a wad of gooey black plastic, I gave up and dialed Veronica’s number. Her voice mail answered with a cheery, “Veronica is unavailable. Please leave a message.”
“It’s me. Susan. I, uh, had second thoughts about the job.” And third and fourth thoughts. “If you still want me, I’m ready to go ghost hunting. In fact, I guess I really need the work.” There, I’d committed, even if Veronica’s offer wasn’t my first choice.
I felt curiously employed now, even though I worried that Veronica might have offered the position to someone else. Once she makes up her mind to do something, she forges ahead like a bull on its way to a willing cow.
But she’d said she’d give me a couple of weeks to think. Surely that meant she wouldn’t look for anyone yet.
As it turned out, I needn’t have sat biting my nails between invoices. She called me back twenty minutes after lunch hour ended. I wasn’t supposed to take personal calls on company time, but what was Odell going to do, fire me?
“Got your message. I didn’t expect you to change your mind so soon.” She sounded cheery and out of breath. I imagined she was running from one real estate closing to another.
“It’s a long sad story, though you’ll probably laugh when you hear it. I’ll tell you all the horrible details when I see you again.”
“Tell me now. I can’t stand the suspense. Come on, Susan, I have an appointment in five minutes.”
“I’ll give you the condensed version, then. My date was, as you predicted, a disaster. I got a little tipsy, tried to one-up him by bragging about my new ghost hunting business, and Odell fired me when Patty told him I was leaving.”
She screamed so loud, I had to yank the phone away from my ear to avoid permanent hearing loss. “You we
ren’t kidding when you said you needed the job. But this is one of those cases where a bad thing works out for the best; you’ll see when the business starts making money.”
“Sure.” I forced enthusiasm into my voice. She almost sounded like Patty except she didn’t mention that the Universe had a hand in plotting my future. “But I can’t be your partner. I wouldn’t feel right about you taking all the risk and giving me so much. Why don’t you just hire me as your ghost tour manager?”
“Susan.” Exasperated sigh on the other end of the line. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” She mentioned a salary amount. “Is that enough for you to manage on?”
I gulped. “A lot more than I’m making here. Thanks, Veronica.”
“After the business gets off the ground and you get your first raise, we can set up a way for you to buy in. Meanwhile, you know I had to hire a new contractor, so the renovations on the Blackthorn House are behind schedule and it will be at least three weeks. But there will be plenty for you to do getting things ready, helping me with the advertising, all those millions of little business details. And buying the furniture. I’ll send over a packet so you can start working on it right away. You have the time, right? Oh, God, I’m so excited.”
“I definitely have evenings and weekends free.” And soon enough I’d have all day with nothing to do except work for Veronica.
The timetable was fine. I had a week left here training Brenda. My spirits lifted as I did a mental spin job on the ghost hunting business. Besides the job, I had yoga class—and seeing Steve--to look forward to this evening. Sure, I’d be fine, the ghost hunting business would be fine, my whole life would be fine. It had to be. It was the only life I had.
Chapter Five
Odell insisted I make up the time I’d missed because of coming in late. After the assigned fifteen minutes at my desk ticked by, I had to race to get to yoga. I slid my van into the last parking place on the street and scurried inside. I barely had time to say hello to Steve as I flew past and flopped down on my mat between Margaret--a sixtyish woman in a pumpkin colored leotard--and the wall.
Ever since I’d given Veronica a commitment this afternoon, my mind had hung like a bulldog onto thoughts of my prospective new career. I tried to think of myself not as an office clerk, but as a businesswoman, giving myself a mental makeover, figuring it was something like method acting. I even wondered briefly if I’d someday be featured on one of those paranormal shows, interviewed as an expert in the field of ghosts and hauntings. I quickly discarded the idea. Even if I came around to believing in such things, leading tourists through Charleston’s graveyards and the Blackthorn House wouldn’t qualify me as an expert. Besides, I was sure I didn’t want to become nationally famous for chasing wisps of fog.
“Susan? Did you understand my explanation of how to do the sun pose while breathing in and out to my count?”
I squinted ceilingward to see Nancy, the instructor, hovering over me. Her usual serene expression had gone furrow-browed over my failure to move from lotus position to sun pose with the rest of the students. I tried to look confused, not wanting her to know I’d zoned out in the middle of her count. Nancy said we were supposed to aim for serene and composed, but so far I hadn’t mastered that and suspected I was closer to mildly depressed.
“I’m not sure. I mean, the breathing is still not there for me.”
“Don’t worry over getting it right the first few times. The important thing is that you’re trying.” Nancy’s brow was still creased, leading me to feel faintly guilty that I hadn’t kept up with the rest of the class. She leaned over and pulled me up from a sitting position. As if she’d dealt with untalented students a thousand times, she efficiently posed my reluctant limbs.
I stifled a groan, held my arms aloft the way she’d placed them, and tried to follow her count. I relaxed my mind, letting my troubles go as I concentrated on maintaining my balance while watching a spot on the wall that might have been a smashed spider. I surprised myself when I actually got into it a few minutes later, my breath going from unsteady and irregular to even and centered.
For the rest of the hour I moved with liquid ease from pose to pose as soothing music, something tuneless involving chimes and wooden flutes, floated out of Nancy’s CD player. I could almost feel the endorphins flooding my brain.
Almost before I realized the minutes had slipped away, Nancy rang the little bell that signaled our time was up. I wiped my face on my towel, rolled up my mat, and scooted out of the way of a herd of soccer moms who‘d enrolled en masse for the class after mine.
When I came out of the women’s changing room, Steve stood near the door, leaning against the wall. I’d thought about asking Veronica if I should be more aggressive in letting him know I liked him. But even if I hadn’t been married for years and so lacked real practice—I didn’t count the blind date as real--it was not my nature to play the games Veronica played with men. I was not exactly an expert in flirting or in casual banter between the sexes and never had been.
So I did nothing except return Steve’s smile and casually head outside. I noticed he stayed where he was until the rest of our group cleared the building. But tonight when the class headed toward Starbucks, Steve ended up a few feet to my right, thanks to the fact that I slowed my pace until he caught up.
I heard him say, “I’ve found a new place you might like. The coffee’s terrific, it’s quiet, has a lot of atmosphere if you don’t mind checkered tablecloths and signed pictures of celebrities from eighty years ago plastered all over the walls. Interested?”
I didn’t care that much about the tablecloths or the celebrities, or even the coffee, but time with Steve away from the chatter of the rest of the group sounded great. I opened my mouth to say so, but then nothing came out except an inarticulate vowlish sort of noise—which turned out to be a good thing as I heard another voice, a sultry contralto, say, “Great, let’s go.”
I glanced sideways and felt my cheeks flame. Steve hadn’t been talking to me, but to the woman on his right—a big-chested blonde who’d joined the class last week while I’d been busy helping Mama wrestle her broken refrigerator into submission.
They both looked at me, no doubt wondering why I’d made such an odd sound. For a few seconds I felt like an insect pinned on a display board. Then Margaret meandered up on my left. I clutched at her arm. “There you are, Margaret. I’d love to talk with you about that afghan you’re crocheting.”
She blinked at me in confusion. Steve and the blonde headed in another direction. So much for my hopes of getting to know him better. Why had I agreed to help Mama last week instead of going to class? She’d have been fine for a few days.
Margaret squiggled her face up until she looked like an ape wondering why it was in the zoo. “I’m not making an afghan. What did you mean, honey?”
“Margaret, ah, you remind me of my mother and I just wondered if you’d like to go somewhere besides Starbucks so we can have a friendly conversation without the whole group chattering away and interrupting.”
“How sweet of you, but I’m going straight home tonight. My husband’s kidneys have been acting up and I need to make sure he takes his pills. Clyde wouldn’t remember to eat if I wasn’t there to put food in front of him. But there’s a nice place just around the corner.” She pointed. “It’s that way if you just want to be alone.”
“Sure. Thanks, maybe some other time,” I called as Margaret shuffled away.
It might not be a bad idea to be alone. Solitude was exactly what I needed right now. A huge jolt of coffee wouldn’t hurt either, though it would do bad things to the serenity I’d found in class. I walked in the direction Margaret had indicated, turned right, and found myself standing in front of a mom and pop diner that could have served as a set for any movie from the forties. A handwritten sign on the door advertised homemade pecan pie.
Though I’d lived in the Charleston area all my life, I’d never been to this place, tucked away on a side street that was alm
ost an alley. I opened the door and went inside. The black and white tile floor was scuffed and worn, but freshly mopped. There were only four tables, none of them occupied, and a long lunch counter hosting a couple of old men sitting next to each other. They were arguing over their choices for our next president, and I suspected they ate here often. Probably had for years.
I seated myself at the last table in the back. The waitress, a perky teenager with dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, bounced over and handed me a menu. Her nametag said she was Emmie.
I left the menu in front of me on the table. “Coffee, please. Strong.” My bruised feelings were already healing. It wasn’t as if Steve and I had been an item. He was a nice person, a guy I’d developed an interest in simply because I’d sort of decided I was ready to start dating. Then he’d found someone who interested him more than I did. End of possibilities.
At my age, maybe the whole event was a wake up call. I mean, a few nights ago I was so lonely I was actually daydreaming about making love with Steve—well, not necessarily Steve. A boyfriend, anyway. But I’d failed blind dating and I’d failed going from crush to dating. Maybe I was fated to spend the rest of my life alone like Mama. I could accept that, but if I developed a desire to adopt a couple of unruly Chihuahuas, I wanted someone to slap me hard.
A few minutes ago I’d felt like hiding in shame. Now I actually smiled at the empty chair in front of me, as if I had an imaginary friend. Hey, if I were serious about coming out of my year-long slump, I’d have to expect a few setbacks. We late-bloomers didn’t always get it right on the first try.
The door swung open, I glanced up, and locked my eyes on the figure who’d just walked in. For a few seconds I forgot to breathe. Accepting a few setbacks wasn’t the same as preparing myself to see Jack Maxwell, long lost buddy from the past, suddenly appear in front of me.