Page 136 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“You are my boss.” I point at her.

She giggles. “That’s true, though I feel like over here you’remyboss.”

I smile. “Also true. Sort of.”

She pulls me away from Ginny, who, I am certain, is eavesdropping as best she can with her bad hearing. “I didn’t want to say anything before because, well, it wasn’t a for-sure thing, but with ticket sales going gangbusters and the way you handled this little flood crisis, it was easy to convince the board.”

“Convince them of what?”

“To offer you a full-time job.” She snaps her jaw shut, widens her eyes, and lets out the faintest squeal. “Here. As the director of theatre arts.”

“There’s a full-time position here for the director of theatre arts?” I didn’t even think that was an option.

“There is now,” she says, her accent a little more pronounced than usual. “They realized”—she leans toward me—“Thanks to me, that a volunteer wasnevergoing to be able to make a real difference with this program. Between the ticket sales, the endowment, and new donations that have come in over the summer, we have enough to hire someone full time.” She squeezes my arm. “You’d also have to work in the box office and take over the social media marketing, but compared to a flood, that’s all easy peasy, right?”

I give the space a quick cursory glance. This isn’t something I ever dreamed I would do, but I can’t deny that a part of me is at peace here.

My mailbox is here.

Booker is here.

I’m not too far from my friends back home—is this how my dream is supposed to change?

“Can I think about it?” I ask.

Connie’s smile holds. “Of course you can. We aren’t going to offer it to anyone else until we have your answer. We don’t want to lose you, Rosie.”

“Okay, wow.” I push a hand through my hair. “That’s... that’s actually really flattering.” If I did stay here, the decision would be final. I’d have to give up on the big dream because there’s really no way I could be available for auditions from here. And if this was my job, I wouldn’t be able to take even a short run anywhere else.

“I know it’s a lot to consider,” she says. “You have your life in New York.”

Are we really calling that alife?

“Let me know what you decide.” Connie pats me on the shoulder and walks away.

When I turn, I find Booker standing in the wings, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

I tilt my head sarcastically. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I did,” he confesses.

“How much did you hear?”

He takes a couple of steps toward me. “Enough.”

I tuck my hair behind my ears, certain that if he asked me to stay, I would.

Just like my mother did.

Just like I promised her I wouldn’t.

Somewhere, an apple doesn’t fall far from a tree, hitting the ground with a thud.

Conversely, I think of Arthur.

The conversation with him planted a tiny seed deep down inside me.

Why do I want to act?

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