Page 82 of The Austen Escape
“You can’t think like that,” he said. “She understood and knew you loved her. We all grieve in our own ways and, well, your brothers modeled that for you. It was hard on them too.”
I also told him about Isabel’s e-mail. She was staying in Bath. Getrude had arranged an interview via Skype with the Stanleys, and they were delighted that an “Austen expert” might take over Gertrude’s management role. Gertrude was moving forward with plans to move to France and join her niece’s family. And Grant’s grandfather was helping Isabel find a local therapist. She hoped to make Bath her home.
“I’m happy for her. There’s so much healing in that, and in going to England.” Dad gave me a small smile. “Her father will never go back there to live. After moving here, he stopped all work with BP. It’s a good bit of emotional and physical distance she’s set up. And that man—”
“Grant.” I supplied the name. “He’s a keeper, Dad, and she loves him.” I reached for his hand. “He’s everything you’d want for your daughter... your other daughter.”
I didn’t tell him about Nathan.
Now that we were outside, the differences between England and Texas struck me anew. “You wouldn’t believe how green it was, Dad. Shades I didn’t know existed. Cool too. The temperature, I mean. Dressing in clothing that went out of style a couple hundred years ago will probably never be called cool. But if Isabelstays, you know you’ll have to go someday. Maybe for her wedding. You’ll love breeches. And those neckcloths? Very you.”
Dad chuckled. “We’ll see.”
“I might get used to a cooler climate. I got to wear sweaters, and a very nice waxed coat, and I loved all the fires.”
“You’ll get plenty of chances in Boston. You can have fires like this starting in September and probably continuing through April.” He added another log to the fire pit.
“I doubt I’ll find an apartment with a fireplace, and certainly not a yard with a fire pit.” I rolled my head on the chair’s high back to face him. “Dad? I have no idea what I’m doing.”
I’d arrived home Thursday and hadn’t called anyone or done anything for two days. No one knew I was back except Isabel, Dad, and Nathan. Dad hadn’t called; he’d assumed I was busy doing whatever it was young people do, and was delighted when I showed up. I didn’t expect Isabel to call. We shot off some texts, hers full of heart emojis, but she was happy and occupied with Grant and Gertrude—as she should be.
But Nathan didn’t call either, and I wasn’t sure what to think about that.
The idea that one’s happiness can depend entirely on a particular person—it is not possible...Austen’s line had returned to me over and over during my two days of sleeping and moping. I hoped she, again, was right.
To be fair, it hadn’t all been sleeping and moping, I’d also sent and received a flurry of e-mails with MedCore. Interviews were scheduled for Wednesday, and they booked me a flight out of Austin Tuesday afternoon.
“You can always change your mind?” Dad’s statement tilted up into a question laced with hope. He leaned forward with hishands on his knees, as if eager for my answer. Eager for a new answer.
“Too late for that. I’ve got a hotel booked for Tuesday through Friday. They sent me terms this morning, so I expect Wednesday’s interview is a formality. They even hired a relocation firm to help me find an apartment. So next weekend it may come down to packing and going.”
“You accepted then.”
I shook my head. “I made it clear I was not accepting. When I say it’s too late, I mean at WATT. It’s changing and my new boss... Well, it’s time for me to go. But I do need to talk to Craig first. Despite anything else, everything else, I owe him that. I was wrong to just send an e-mail. He gave me ten minutes on Monday.”
Dad chuckled. “The same lightning bolt, eh? I’m surprised he gave you more than five... But he’s going to miss you. Don’t forget those days in the garage. Garages are special places.”
I smiled. Garages were Dad’s treasured places. If you needed to talk to him about something serious or had bad news to relay, you did it in the garage. He had a workbench set up in a corner and it was his creative home. It was also where we connected—Dan, Curt, Scott, and me. If there was one room in the house that had formed us the most, it was the garage.
“Did Dottie order you a cake?”
I snorted and caught myself. “Didn’t call to find out... I forgot you knew Dottie.”
Dad knew all WATT’s staff, at least the ones who were part of that original garage bunch. Dottie came on board a couple weeks before we moved into the office building. She had been hired as an office manager, but Craig needed a “garage manager” first, sohe brought her on board early. She and Dad had co-managed the packing.
I watched a star shoot across the sky, then realized it was an airplane. It made my eyes prick. I swiped at them. “You wouldn’t recognize WATT now. It’s got over sixty employees and layers.”
“Layers, huh? Rungs on a ladder.” Dad sat back in his chair and joined me watching the stars again. “Don’t sell yourself short. No matter how much it has changed, that company will miss you. It’s made up of all your friends. You were the first engineer; you designed all those gizmos, that kiddie robot that was so hot a couple years ago, that battery, and the—”
“You’re right. It was good work.” I cut him off. I didn’t want to hear about it.
I also didn’t want to hear that “the company” was going to miss me. That wasn’t true. The company had no feelings, and with its growth rate, WATT was no longer an idea, an enterprise, or a start-up. It was a company. Besides, wasn’t that the whole point ofIt’s just a job? There was no “missing”—on either side.
“Are you running?” Dad whispered the question.
“Every morning.”
That’s not what he was asking, and I knew it. He knew I knew it, because he didn’t comment or clarify. He waited. I waited too and watched the stars. A few flickered and the sky felt like music. Music required honesty.
