The Calendar of New Beginnings (6 page)

“She still giving you a hard time?” Matt asked, pouring himself a whiskey. “Jane is driving, so I’ll join you.”

“Yeah,” Moira said, taking a measured sip even though all she wanted to do was knock it back. “I think Taylor is trying to push me out. I’m going to have to start looking for a new job.”

Her brother put his arm around her. “I was afraid of that. Based on everything you’ve told me, there isn’t anything more you can do.”

“No, I think she made up her mind about me in our first meeting,” Moira said, taking another sip of the whiskey, remembering the frigid way Taylor had asked her to summarize her hiring suggestions in the company for the last six months. “I hate female bosses who see other women as a threat. It’s so freaking old school. A cliché. Shouldn’t smart, confident women support one another?”

“She’s obviously insecure as hell and doesn’t want anyone else catching on,” Matt said with a sigh. “Male managers do it too. Hence the Napoleonic syndrome. I saw it all the time at my old law firm.”

Moira was so pissed off she wanted to kick something. “I’ve made a good name for myself at Peterson Engineering.” Heck, she’d been promoted three times in the past five years and now served as the human resources director. “Part of me wants to tough it out just to spite her, but I’m done with all her late-night and weekend texts, last-minute deadline changes, and demands for information she could access on her own.”

“She’s a bitch,” Matt said, and then glanced over his shoulder. He was probably checking for Danny, who was talking to Jane and Caroline in the corner with their mom. “You’ll have no trouble getting another job.”

“I know,” she said, and this time the burn in her throat was from something other than the whiskey. “I’m going to get a forty percent increase on my salary too. I’m ready for six figures.”

“You go, girl,” Matt said, thrusting out his tumbler. “To bigger and better things.”

“What bigger and better things?” Natalie asked, appearing beside them. “Oh, no. Whiskey, Moira? Weren’t you going to drive home to Denver tonight?”

She gave her older sister the fish eye as she clinked her glass with Matt’s and then took another sip. “Caroline can drive.”
 

Sure, they’d taken her car, but it wouldn’t be the first time Caroline had driven it back to Denver. Moira’s phone vibrated again, making her see red. She slammed her glass on the table and dug it out of her pocket. Sure enough, Taylor had texted her
again,
asking if she’d received her last four texts—in all caps this time—noting that she needed the references for the computer programmer candidates they were hiring. Like the company would end if Taylor didn’t get them on a Sunday night.

Natalie leaned in and peered at the screen. “You weren’t kidding about her being a bitch. By bigger and better, did you finally decide to look for another job? I’ve been hoping you would. That woman has it in for you.”

“Yeah, she knows she can’t fire me. I have one of the strongest performance ratings in the company. But enough is enough. I can’t keep working with someone like that. Excuse me while I call her back and tell her how it’s going to be.” Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but the words felt right. And it felt liberating to finally walk away.

The mountains seemed to wrap around her when she stepped outside into the O’Briens’ backyard. The calm that washed over her told her this was the right thing to do.

Being as diplomatic as possible, she told Taylor that she was leaving Peterson Engineering for personal reasons, and would tender her official notice tomorrow morning. Rather than try to talk her out of it, Taylor said she’d prefer for the notice to be effective immediately. After all, the company would pay out her remaining vacation time.

That slapped Moira back. Taylor wouldn’t even give her the professional courtesy of two weeks to transition everything. Well, so be it.

When Moira ended the call, she noted it had only taken two minutes and thirty-eight seconds to change her life. But she felt free. And lighter.
 

Turning off her cell phone, she went back inside. Matt and Natalie were waiting for her, anxious looks on their faces.

“I quit,” she told them, “and Taylor is such a bitch she won’t even let me stay around for two weeks to help transition a new person.”

“She probably already has someone in mind,” Matt said, frowning. “Well, at least you’re done with her. You don’t want to work with someone like that. How much vacation do you have?”

“Six weeks,” she told them. “Plenty of time to find a new job.” And the payout would float her financially so she wouldn’t have to dip into her savings. Something to be grateful for.

“I’m proud of you for not staying in a miserable position any longer.” Natalie gave her a hug. “You’re going to find an even better job in no time.”

“Damn skippy I will.”

Caroline, Jane, and her mom came over, followed by her cousins, Meredith and Jill.

“Looks like there’s a celebration, and we’re missing out,” her mom said, ruffling Danny’s hair when he ran over to join them.

“I’ve had it with my boss,” she said, reaching for her whiskey again, “so I just gave my notice, which she accepted. I’m going to find a new job with a
nice
boss.”

“Good for you,” her mother said, putting her arm around her. “I didn’t like how that Taylor woman has been treating you. If I were her mother, I would have sent her to time out. Matt, pour me a little of that whiskey so I can toast Moira’s decision.”

There was a chorus of agreement from her family. Moira already felt better. She always did when she was with them. When Andy returned with Lucy, she’d have to share her news with him. He was always reminding her life was too short to stay in a bad situation, something Kim’s death had taught them all.

“And do you know what?” she said, lifting her glass. “I’m going to take a spa day in Aspen and then spend some time in Dare Valley. Natalie, do you think I could use one of your cars? Caroline, you’ll have to drive back without me. Mom, can I stay with you?”

“Of course you can, honey,” her mother said in delight. “You deserve some time off in between jobs. Once you’ve rested, you can look for a new job. Maybe you’ll find something in Dare Valley.”

Her siblings all looked at her—they were well aware of their mom’s hope that all her chickens would come home to roost.

“Who knows?” she said to be agreeable to her mother. The last thing she wanted was to take a pay cut or a title dip, something she’d expect from the smaller job pool in Dare Valley. “There might be something.”

Either way, Moira was going to find the best damn job out there.

Chapter 4
      

Lucy lurched up in bed when a harsh pounding broke through her consciousness.
 

Was someone coming for her?

Her gaze flew to the door. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Congo? Her vision was blurry, which only pumped more adrenaline through her system. Then she recognized her old pine dresser, topped with a photo of her and her parents cross-country skiing. A younger George Clooney smiled wickedly at her from the poster her mother had left on her purple walls.
 

She was in Dare Valley. Recovering from the attack. Right. That was why her vision was wonky.

“Lucy!” her mother called from the other side of the door. “Time to rise and shine.”
 

The jarring wake-up call was another reason she couldn’t stay with her parents. Ellen O’Brien did not believe in sleeping. She said people died in bed, so best not spend too much time there. The door cracked open, causing her to jump.

Her mother popped her head through. “April’s here, dear, and would love to see you.”

Hadn’t she seen the woman just last night? “Be right out,” she answered with a fake smile.

When the door closed, Lucy flopped back down and settled deeper into the covers. She sucked in calming breaths. The alarm clock was the same one she’d had in high school, and it read 8:27 a.m. She supposed she should be grateful her mom had let her sleep so late. After the party, she’d pretty much passed out at nine o’clock. She’d awoken at three in the morning, but the best way to fight jet leg was to force your body to acclimate to the new time zone. So she’d stayed in bed, thinking way too much about her conversation with Andy, her future, and being home. Somewhere along the line, she’d fallen back asleep.

Lucy grabbed her shaggy white terrycloth robe and crawled out of bed. Shuffling her feet, she stretched as she made her way to the kitchen—her mother’s lair. Some women entertained in the parlor, but Ellen O’Brien conducted the orchestra of her life from the kitchen. Most of her childhood memories of her mother were set in this room.

“There you are!” her mother said, hustling across the room and hugging her tight. “I was telling April you got a free pass on sleeping in today because you had a long journey here, but tomorrow, it’s back to normal.”

Normal. That meant waking up no later than seven a.m. She needed to find her own place—stat.

April Hale was smiling at the mother-daughter reunion over a blue pottery mug that smelled enticingly of coffee. Other delicious food smells like bacon floated through the air, making her feel a little zing of happiness.

“Good morning, April,” she said as her mother released her.
 

“Hi, Lucy. It’s good to see you in your mother’s kitchen again.” She came over and hugged her as well.

Even though Lucy had seen and talked to her last night, a fresh spurt of happiness filled her as memories flashed through her mind. She remembered eating oatmeal raisin cookies after school on the Hales’ Harvest Gold kitchen table as April bandaged her scraped knees or helped her with homework.

April stepped back. “Your hair is as long and fiery as I remember it. The auburn looks so good with your green eyes. Always has.”

Her compliment was a little surprising. After all, she almost always saw April on her visits home. Was she simply being extra sweet, or subtly suggesting Lucy needed a haircut? Her last one had been in Beirut, and hadn’t that been a trip… She’d gotten as close as she could to the Syrian border without getting into trouble. “Thank you.”

Her mom set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her, and she stared at it carefully. Another problem with her injury was that it threw off her depth perception with the objects closest to her, making it hard for her brain to pinpoint exactly where her hand needed to move to grasp them.

“Is that a hawk outside the window?” she asked, making them both turn their heads.

She put her hand toward where she thought the cup was, missed, and moved it a couple inches until she had a good grip on the mug.

“I don’t see one,” her mother said.

“Me either,” April said, “although there are plenty of them around.”

“This coffee is delicious,” she said, taking a sip, congratulating herself on the misdirection.

“You and your father always did need coffee to function in the morning,” her mom said, pinching her cheek. “Although sleeping this late, you’d think you could do without the jolt. You need a haircut.”

“I was just thinking that,” she responded pleasantly.

“Do I even want to see your toes?” her mom asked, looking down at her feet.

She covered one foot over the other. “Stop. You know there are no nail salons in the places I visit.” Best not mention that hepatitis C was a real risk at most of the salons she could have visited.

“We can get our nails done today,” her mom said, checking her own manicure.
 

It looked like purple to Lucy, but it could have been blue. There was no way to be sure anymore unless she closed her bad eye, and that was the problem. Relenting to temptation would only make the healing process take longer, darn it all to hell.

“I’ll make you a hair appointment too, Luce.”

It was already starting. “Mom, I can handle my own appointments.”

Her mom yanked on a lock of her hair before turning and loading a plate with bacon and scrambled eggs for her. “I’m only trying to be helpful, honey.”

“I know.” She did. It just annoyed the hell out of her. “Let me do things at my own pace, okay?”

“Fine,” her mom said, sharing a glance with April, who was oddly quiet.

Were they wondering why she was back too? God, she hoped they wouldn’t ask. She hadn’t kept the incident in the Congo to herself only to keep her parents from worrying. Her mother was allergic to what she called ‘sad things.’ Lucy couldn’t count the number of times her mother had pursed her lips and told her not to be a downer. After a while, Lucy had started self-editing everything she told her mom.

Lucy grabbed the fork her mother handed her, and felt for the plate with her free hand. Upon contact, she dug into the eggs, pushing those thoughts aside. “Cheddar cheese and dill eggs. Oh, yum.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had dill. “And apple-smoked bacon…I’m in heaven.”

“Hopefully this proves I’m not an ogre.”

Her excitement dimmed. “Mom, I don’t think you’re an ogre. But I’m a grown woman used to running my own life. You wouldn’t appreciate it if I tried to rearrange yours. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Indeed,” her mother said, her mouth twisting. “Go ahead and eat. April and I will tell you about our project.”