Page 3 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

“Mrs. Wolfe is in the sunroom.” She motioned toward the right side of the house. “Last door on the left.”

“Thank you, it was nice to meet you…”

“Dorothy.”

“Nice to meet you, Dorothy.”

I headed down the long hallway and immediately recognized the Jackson Pollock on display. A few feet down, across from the Jackson Pollock, hung a Jean-Michel Basquiat. As I passed a room that had a grand piano in the corner of it, I peeked inside and nearly fainted when I saw the Degas and Monet pieces. By the time I made it to the sunroom, I had nerves popping in my stomach like kernels of corn in grease. Whoever this woman was—whatever the job was—I just wanted to be near her. I loved art, and clearly, she did as well.

When I entered the room, a slim-figured woman in black slacks and a royal blue silk button-down shirt sat in a floral armchair next to a brick fireplace. Her silver-gray hair was cut in a sharp bob. Thin, black-rimmed glasses combined with a deep mauve lipstick and a hint of blush accented her delicate facial features. She commanded the room without saying a word or moving a muscle. She held herself with an air of class, elegance, and grace. Her style and demeanor struck me as a cross between Audrey Hepburn and Meryl Streep’s character fromThe Devil Wears Prada.

“Hello, Mrs. Wolfe, I’m Ashley Thompson.”

“It’s Stella; nice to meet you. Please, sit down.”

I suddenly felt very underdressed as I lowered down into the chair beside her. I’d worn a blue jean skirt, a white t-shirt, black blazer, and brown suede bootie boots. I was going for effortlessly casual, but now I just felt schlumpy.

“So, Ashley, your dean said that you have done some work in the eco-friendly space.”

“Oh, um, yes.” I was not expecting the conversation to take that left turn. I assumed she’d want to speak about fashion or art.

“Tell me a little bit about that.”

“Oh, okay. I spearheaded an artist collective to promote less water usage, cad-free pigment paints, recycled canvases, and more responsible disposal of waste, such as evaporating solvent by putting it in the sun instead of down the drain.”

“What caused you to be interested in that?”

“Um, my niece, actually. She is six now, but when she was four, she saw something on YouTube about climate change and the planet being sick, and it really upset her. To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought before that. I was sort of naïve about it. But she couldn’t sleep, and it sort of traumatized her, so I pinky promised her I would do my part to make this world a better place for her.”

“Wonderful.” She nodded. “Can you start on Monday?”

I waited for a beat, sure I must have heard her wrong. When she didn’t continue, I said, “I’m sorry?”

“Are you available to start on Monday?”

“Oh, um…” I didn’t even know what the job was, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to say that. This woman intimidated me, and I didn’t want to come off sounding like an idiot. When the dean emailed me with the interview information, it just had the address, name, and interview time. That was it.

“Mrs. Wolfe, the man is here with the dog,” Dorothy relayed as she entered the room.

“Oh, lovely. Take him out to the back and tell him I’ll be right with him.”

When she looked back at me, I could see the expectation in her expression. “Will I see you Monday?”

“Um, yes.”

“Wonderful. Brenda from HR will email you with the details.”

I stood and wasn’t sure if I should shake her hand or curtsy. Instead, I just sort of waved awkwardly.

“See you Monday.”

As I walked out of the sunroom toward the door, I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. I’d just gotten a job. I didn’t know what the job was, but I knew I wanted it, and I’d gotten it…I guess I’d find out the rest on Monday.

2

DECLAN

Rolling my shoulders back,I sighed in relief as I taxied along the airstrip beside my family’s estate. Flying wasnotsomething I enjoyed doing. My grandfather insisted I take flying lessons at the age of sixteen and get my private pilot’s license at seventeen. I’d maintained my PPL for nearly twenty years, although flying was one of my least favorite activities. Small aircraft were not built for people who stood six feet four inches tall or who had OCPD, at least not in my case. I avoided flying at all costs, but tonight’s flight was born out of necessity.

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