Page 3 of Becoming

“Just tell them who you are. They’ll know.”

As confused as she was with the situation, she thanked him for the chance to prove herself.

SHE FLIPPED THE card over and over through her fingers. The anticipation of what came after a simple phone call had been enough of a distraction that she actually struggled to get through her last class. Something she didn’t enjoy. Setting the card down on the table, Rebecca gave it a little spin. Of course, the intrigue was there. She’d be foolish not to be curious. Still, she had virtually zero information about who or what she would be working with.

It was meticulous research and preparation that made her good at what she did. How was she to do any of that when she hadn’t a clue as to what type of business this place was? She didn’t like being unprepared and here she was, being asked to go into one of the most important meetings of her young career, completely unprepared.

So, she did the only thing she could do at the moment. She picked up her Nokia and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Aunt Wills.”

“Rebecca! What a surprise! Is something wrong?”

Rebecca chuckled at her aunt’s ever-present need to be a therapist. “Nothing is wrong. Why do you always ask me that when I call you on an unscheduled day?”

“Because, you usually only call me on unscheduled days when something is wrong,” her aunt countered with humor.

“Touché,” Rebecca laughed. “To answer your question, Dr. Woodrow, nothing is really wrong. I simply need some advice.”

“Ah, it just so happens that I have an incredibly expensive, highly distinguished degree that gives me the ability to do just that. And, I happen to be particularly good at it.”

“I agree.” It never ceased to amaze her how her Aunt Wills could always get a smile out of her. Even at a time when Rebecca thought she would never smile again, her aunt was there to make a devastating situation slightly more bearable. Aunt Willamena wasn’t just a psychiatrist extraordinaire, she was the best aunt anyone could ever hope for. With that in mind, Rebecca described her current predicament.

“Rebecca,” Aunt Wills began once Rebecca was finished. “Life is always going to be full of circumstances that you will not be able to control. I believe you know that better than most. It won’t always be about how good you are at preparing for those events. Occasionally, you will need to discover how good you are at handling those unpredictable occurrences with grace. You are extraordinarily talented at what you do. Trust that. Trust yourself.”

Rebecca remained silent for a moment, soaking up everything her aunt just told her. “Wow. That is one hell of a degree you must have.”

“Eh, it’s amazing what you can get out of a Cracker Jack box.”

Rebecca laughed heartily. A rare occurrence when she wasn’t speaking with her Aunt Wills. “You’re crazy!”

“Ah, ah, ah. We shrinks do not approve of that word. Besides, we can’t be the crazy ones when the crazy ones are calling us.”

Rebecca shook her head at her aunt’s shenanigans. The sense of humor was the same as her mother’s and it reminded Rebecca of the times when she was a little kid watching the two women together. Fantastically wonderful memories that never failed to make Rebecca both happy and wistful. She could never allow herself to forget that she didn’t just lose her mother, but Aunt Wills lost her sister.

“I love you, Aunt Wills,” she said with quiet sincerity.

“I love you, too, my sweet girl. Now, make that call and knock ’em dead.”

Rebecca hung up with her aunt and promptly made her next phone call. No one said life would be easy. She learned that the hard way ten years ago when her parents died suddenly and tragically in a car accident. She wouldn’t tarnish their memory by easily giving up.

THE FOLLOWING DAY found Rebecca sitting straight in a large, leather chair, ankles crossed, and hands linked in front of her. Her portfolio rested nearby, and she waited. She had been waiting—in this position—for the past ten minutes.

Inside, she was fuming. If this was the way the owners of this establishment did business, she could see why they were in trouble. Outwardly, she remained poised and relaxed. She may be young, but she knew better than to show any sign of weakness.

The tick-tock of an antique clock that sat on the shelf of an ornate bookcase ticked off the seconds in a soothing rhythm. Rebecca tapped her fingers to the tempo as she counted, allowing it to help keep her calm. She was about to hit one hundred when the door finally opened.

Her eyes locked with an extremely alluring—and unexpected—woman in her mid-thirties and Rebecca was grateful for the ability to hide her emotions. The first thing that caught her attention was the height. The dark-haired woman must’ve had at least six inches on Rebecca’s vertically challenged five-foot-two stature. Another prominent feature was how angular the woman was. Nose, chin, cheekbones. It was as though she were sculpted out of marble. She looked… hard, but it wasn’t from a muscular build that Rebecca preferred.

Her lean body was attired smartly in black slacks and a blood-red button-up shirt that flared open at the collar. It somehow matched the edgy, androgynous hairstyle the woman sported. Despite the androgyny—which Rebecca had always preferred—the woman wasn’t exactly Rebecca’s type. Even so, there was definitely something about her that piqued Rebecca’s interest.

She sat in her large, imposing chair and gave Rebecca a leering once-over and scoffed with an arrogant smirk. “You’re the genius Jim sent me? How old are you, kid?”

Rebecca mentally patted herself on the back for maintaining her professional composure and not rolling her eyes. Her looks often got a reaction from men and women alike. Most, like Allie, thought beauty equaled stupidity. Especially if you were young. “I’m twenty-one.” She tilted her head, keeping eye contact. “Forgive me, Ms.?”

“Pryce. Samantha Pryce,” the woman responded. It would seem the smirk was going to be a permanent fixture on that angular face. Fantastic.

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