Page 28 of Changed Plan

“You want to talk about what happened with your job?”

She sighs, and I worry I’ve pried too far, but she keeps talking. “The owner gave his fiancée’s son a job. He was fresh out of college with no real interest in being a PR rep, but apparently, he couldn’t land any other job, so I got an assistant I never asked for and didn’t need yet. And the joy of trying to train a twenty-two-year-old who thought he already knew everything. He’s charming and quick-witted, but he’s also kind of a dumbass, and he can’t handle any form of confrontation, so I cleaned up more than a few of his blunders. The next thing I know, I’m being told we have to downsize, and since I’m the newest hire, I’m the first to go.”

“Did the guy you trained also get fired?”

“What do you think?”

“You might have a wrongful termination case.”

“I don’t have the time or the money to explore that option. Besides, everybody knows everybody in the PR industry. The last thing I need is to be known as the rep who sued her last employer.”

“Fair enough. Can you poach your clients when you land at a new firm?”

She gasps, bringing her palm to her chest. “I would never. But if they happen to get my new contact information and decide to follow me . . . there’s certainly nothing I can do about that.”

“And you will send them all your new contact information. I’m guessing with a friendly note mentioning all the ways you can better serve them with your new employer.”

“Hey, you’re good. If that actuary thing gets old, maybe you can come be my assistant. I’m an excellent trainer. I trained the last guy so well he took my job.”

“You’ve got to learn to be more of a slacker.”

“Said the guy who checks his emails on vacation.”

“Guilty. But I bet your clients will be glad to hear from you.”

“I think a few of them will follow me right away. And I might be able to win over a few more. It’ll all work out.”

She’s not great at optimism. The wince gives her away.

“You’re right,” I say. “It will all work out. I checked the weather while you were in the shower. Looks like the storm should end in the next few hours. If that holds, they’ll be deicing the runways in the morning and lining up planes.”

I want to believe that’s disappointment I see in her eyes. I’m torn. I want to get to Florida to see Mom, Izzie, and Dad. I need to be there for them as soon as possible. But the thought of my time with Darby coming to an end makes my gut twist.

“Yeah,” she says. “But then we’ll be at the mercy of the airline’s scheduling. It’s going to be a madhouse all day, I’m sure. Have you gotten anything about your flight yet?”

“Not yet.”

It seems neither of us really wants to talk about leaving. She tells me about a trip she took a few months ago to attend an old roommate’s wedding. We joke about what seemed like travel problems for her then, agreeing that after this storm, we probably won’t even notice regular travel inconveniences anymore. Not for a while, anyway.

Eventually, we end up talking about a few of our exes, nothing too deep, just random facts and anecdotes about people we’ve dated. It’s a treacherous topic, and we’re both clearly treading lightly, but I like talking about relationships with her. She has interesting perspectives on why people do the things they do.

It’s possible I find them interesting because I agree with most of them.

I ask her what she loves about the beach.

“It’s calming. It’s where I want to be when my head gets too full.”

That’s funny. When her head gets too full. But I know exactly what she means.

“I get that. My mom always went to the beach when she needed to think, to work through something. She just sits and stare at the waves. As a kid, I thought that was the most boring thing in the world someone could do at the beach. As an adult, I find myself missing the beach more than I ever thought I would.”

“Will you go with her while you’re home visiting?”

“I’ll probably go, but she’s not really up to it anymore. I might take Izzie. She loves the beach, probably spends even more time there than I did growing up.”

“Still too young to appreciate the restorative benefit of staring at the waves, though.”

“You’d be surprised. She loves to go with friends, but I’ve found her sitting alone the way Mom does more than once. Sometimes, she seems wise beyond her years. Other times, I want to grab her and shake some sense into her.”

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