Page 13 of Love and Other Lost Things

Mr. Morgan blinked at her for a second and then hitched his chin for her to come into the office. Jane said a silent prayer and headed across the reception area. Once they were inside, Mr. Morgan slid behind his desk. Jane perched on a chair across from him.

Mr. Morgan looked at his computer monitor, clicked around a few times, and then he said, “Sorry, we filled that position.”

“You—” No. She needed this job. At least, she needed a chance. “But I have an interview scheduled.”

“My partner liked the woman who interviewed at 9 a.m. better.”

“But he hasn’t even met me yet.”

Mr. Morgan glanced up at Jane then, his gaze slowly drifting from her face down to her white rayon blouse and back up. Then he turned and picked up a small pile of papers next to his keyboard. After a moment of sorting, he pulled Jane’s resume from the middle of the stack. “You’re Jane McCaffrey?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Morgan peered at the paper in his hand. “And your experience is working in the Linden Falls public library?”

Jane nodded. She’d considered fabricating an entirely new resume, but what if they asked her for references? So, instead, she’d stretched the truth as much as possible. Technically, she’d only been a volunteer at the library. But Mrs. Lui had always liked her, and Jane hoped that if the law firm wanted to check up on her, she could ask the librarian for this little favor. It was risky, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Yes, I did all sorts of administrative work while I was there. Answering the phone, filing paperwork. I can use Excel and…”

She trailed off when Mr. Morgan gave her a bored, “Uh huh.”

Jane pulled her shoulders back. She needed this job. “Look, I promise I’m a hard worker. If you’ll just give me a chance…”

Mr. Morgan pulled the top paper off the stack. “Jessica Bartlesman has five years of experience working in law firms.” He picked up the next one. “Alice Silver has worked reception at a doctor’s office for almost a decade.” He tapped a finger on the stack of papers. “Do you want me to go on?”

Jane’s heart began to pound. Her job at the car wash had started at 10 a.m. She’d taken a risk with this interview. “Please,” she whispered. “I know my experience doesn’t seem like much, but if you just give me a chance to tell you what I’m capable of and meet with your partner…”

Mr. Morgan sighed. “Listen, Jane. Do you want my advice?”

“Yes. Please.” Jane nodded eagerly. She’d take any help she could get.

He swiveled in his chair and slowly dropped Jane’s resume into the trash can by the desk. “My advice is to go back to Linden Falls.”

Jane jumped to her feet and backed away slowly, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t. I can’t ever go back there.”

He just shrugged.

Before she burst into tears right there in the office, Jane turned and ran out the door, past the receptionist, and then, giving the glass doors a shove, stumbling out into the parking lot. She dug her prepaid cell phone from her bag and checked the time. It was ten fifteen. She was late for work, and now she needed that car wash job more than ever. Jane took off down the sidewalk, her purse thumping at her hip with each step, one hand clutching the waistband of her pants in case this was the moment they decided to slide down her legs.

Jane sprinted the five blocks to the car wash, her heels bruising on the hard pavement in her flimsy flats. The door to the office was on the side of the building so, to save time, Jane headed directly through the car wash garage, hugging the wall to avoid puddles.

“I’m here,” Jane heaved, once she was inside the office, bending over to catch her breath. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” the car wash owner, a middle-aged white man named Duane, said mildly.

Jane stood, still breathing hard. “I’m not?” The bottoms of her feet were really starting to burn now, not to mention her aching ribs from her injuries back in Linden Falls. She didn’t know how she was going to stand out there on the street corner all day. But like everything else in her life, she didn’t have much choice. “Oh.” Maybe she’d gotten the time wrong?

Duane crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “You’re not late because you don’t work here anymore. You’re fired.”

“What? No. I can’t be fired. I’m only—” She fumbled in her bag for her phone. Twenty-five minutes late.

“You’re fired because you’re terrible at your job.”

Jane felt a flare of anger. The last place wouldn’t even give her an interview because she didn’t have the experience, and now this guy was telling her she wasn’t good enough to stand there grinning stupidly and holding a cardboard sign? “How can I be terrible at it? How would someone be more skilled?”

Duane hitched his chin at the empty garage. “Where are the cars? Where are the customers? This is the slowest week I’ve had all year.”

“But—” Jane could not lose this job. She had exactly enough money to pay for one more night in the motel and one more pack of ramen noodles. After that, she’d be?—

---