Page 4 of Prairie Nights

Whitney returned her gaze to his, an ironic mix of rebuttal and hilarity in her eyes as she conceded, “Yes, Hayden, you can have my phone number.”

CHAPTER 2

After Ben and Ever’s wedding, Whitney returned to Toronto, settling back into her life in the city. Having been a city girl her entire life, she was surprised how much she enjoyed the slow pace of Primrose. The place had its own brand of charm, and the people were kind and friendly, always curious to know more about her and her life. Such a contrast from the city where anonymity was the norm. Getting a glimpse into small town life made her want to return, especially to see her dear friend, Ever, again.

The moment she and Ever met, they became fast friends and now she considered her more like a sister than one of her clients. Seeing Ever’s art career take off and having been a part of it since the beginning, had bonded them. Now with her friend and number one client, married, hopelessly in love and no longer close, she felt alone and on the cusp of a change herself. But what would that change be? Having worked for Rosenburg Agencies for the past eight years she enjoyed her job, but often found her mind wandering to other ways she could make a living using her passion for creativity and art. Perhaps she could go into business for herself.

Entering Rosenburg Agencies, Whitney greeted the receptionist with a smile as she strode down the hall, fielding more greetings from her colleagues. Entering her office, she took a seat behind her desk, pulling out her phone and swiped it open. Two unread messages. With a smile, she clicked on the first one seeing Hayden’s text.

Hayden: “Hey there, gorgeous! I hope you have an awesome day! Mind if I send you a dirty picture?”

A picture of a cute pink piglet covered in mud popped up on her screen.

Whitney shook her head and laughed. It had been a week since she had returned home from the wedding and Hayden had taken to texting her. His daily flirtatious and corny texts had quickly become one of her favorite parts of her day.

Whitney: “Hayden, that’s not the kind of dirty picture I want to see. Where’s that cute ass?”

A picture of a donkey baring its teeth to the camera popped up on her phone.

Whitney: “Lol, you’re too funny! I’m at work now, but can we chat later?”

Hayden: “Yes, of course. Glad I made you smile, gorgeous. Have a wonderful day!”

Whitney grinned at his message, setting down her phone and leaning back in her chair. Hayden was a charmer and knew exactly how his comments affected her. Every time she read back their conversations, they left her feeling light and although she had no doubt that he wanted the opportunity to reignite their chemistry, she would be lying if she didn’t admit to liking his positive attention. After a 7-year marriage that nearly broke her, a lacklustre dating life full of crazy circumstances and disappointing let downs, it was flattering, and she couldn’t help but soak in every word and compliment.

Leaving their conversation, she clicked on the second notification. As the message popped up on her screen, an instant uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach as she read it.

“Dumb whore, you thought you could just walk away from us. I know where you’re hiding, and I will find you.”

Her eyes frantically darted around her office as if he would appear. Glancing back to her phone, she checked the caller ID. Unknown number. It was Paul; she was sure of it. It had been five years since the threats stopped and the judge issued her a restraining order along with finalizing her divorce. Knowing the restraining order had expired recently, something in her gut told her it was him. Why is he texting me? How did he get my number? A familiar sense of panic and anxiety washed over her as flashbacks of how he would belittle, call her terrible names, and tell her she was worthless floated into her consciousness. Telling her no one would or could love her, except him. His harsh words and emotional abuse breaking down her soul and bruising her heart. At times throughout their marriage, she wished he would just hit her. That way, at least she had physical proof of the scars he was branding.

For five excruciatingly long years, she endured his slurs and anger filled rage until she finally found the courage to leave him. Paul, of course, was sorry, apologizing profusely, and made every attempt to get her back. After each failed attempt, more name calling would ensue. And after two years of separation with him dragging his heels on their divorce, he started ambushing her at work, insisting on seeing her. Once he found out where she lived, he would show up at her townhome door with flowers and gifts, begging for her forgiveness. Whitney knew then and there that she needed a restraining order. Shortly after she got protection, the judge granted her a divorce, and she changed her phone number, moving to a different part of the city. She didn’t hear from him again. Until now.

What am I going to do? She questioned, rubbing her temples, her head pounding. She had worked so hard over the past five years to erase her past. She attended regular therapy, started practicing meditation and yoga to deal with her anxiety and panic attacks, and had acquired an incredible group of friends who loved and supported her. Whitney was proud of how far she had come and grateful for the happy existence she made for herself.

Suddenly, an unexpected knock sounded at her door, making her jump out of her seat.

“Oh Whitney, sorry, I startled you.” Her boss, Ned Rosenburg, said as he stood in her doorway. “Is everything okay?” he asked, brows furrowing.

“Sorry Ned, yes, everything’s fine. How can I help you?”

Ned entered her office and took a seat across from her, steepling his hands in front of him. Ned Rosenburg was in his mid 60s with salt and pepper hair and kind blue eyes. He opted for designer sweaters, tailored shirts, and chinos rather than suits for the office and had a laid-back, easy-going personality which Whitney appreciated. He was fiercely passionate about art and helped her build her portfolio of clients while always making himself available for help or questions. She couldn’t think of a better boss to have.

“As you know, I just turned 65 and my husband, David, just retired this past spring.” He explained. “We recently celebrated my birthday in Costa Rica and fell in love with the culture there.”

“Yes, I saw all your pictures on social media!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Costa Rica looks heavenly.”

“It was,” he replied, looking towards the window behind her as if reflecting. Returning his gaze to her, he continued. “David has convinced me to retire, and we’re moving down there as of December 1st.”

“Oh, wow! Seriously Ned, that’s incredible!”

“Thank you.” he smiled, excitement flashing in his blue eyes, then quickly morphing into a frown. “Let me just pull off the bandage, Whitney. I’ve decided to close the office as of November 15th.”

Whitney’s eyes widened, disbelief tightening her chest. “That’s in three weeks.”

Ned reached out, resting his hand on hers as he offered her a reassuring smile. “Whitney, you’re an amazing agent and have built an enviable portfolio. I’ll be splitting my portfolio up to distribute between you and several other agents here in the office. I have a handful of incredible artists out of Winnipeg, and I would like to pass those on to you.”

“That is so sweet of you, Ned.” she replied, still trying to grapple with the news.

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