Mistake.
“Hello, Philippa. I only have a few minutes, so we must make this quick, darling,” Mom says.
I roll my eyes.Darling? Okay. Who is standing next to her that she’s trying to impress?
“Yeah, sure,” I say. “I’m just driving. What’s up?”
“I’m with Madeline Morgan. She’s the head of a nonprofit at St. Vincent’s Hospital.”
Ah, that explains it.
“They are looking for someone to oversee their fundraising activities. It might be a perfect fit with your humanities background.”
It takes everything I have not to laugh. Not only do I not need—or want—a new job, but my parents removed themselves from my professional life when I told them I didn’t want to attend med school. This call makes no sense whatsoever.
“Well, Mother, that sounds like a wonderful opportunity and I’m grateful that you thought of me. But I just secured a promotion at my current place of employment. I’m quite looking forward to taking on this new challenge.”
The fact that I manage to say all of that without snickering deserves a cookie.
I would give anything to see Mom’s face right now. She does an impeccable job at covering her frustration, however. Her tone is a little over-the-top sweet, but I doubt Madeline Morgan notices.
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful. I’ll let Madeline know you’ll forward your résumé to her this week,” Mom says.
“That’s wonderful, Mother. You can tell her whatever makes you happy, and I’ll do what makes me happy. Enjoy your day.”
“Yes, I must run. We’ll chat later.”
“Awesome.”
The line goes dead.
What the hell was that? She’s so deluded.
I turn onto Honeysuckle Lane and forget all about my mother.I’ve entered Carmichael Land.
The street is paved with a neat gravel border along the sides. On my right are two midsized houses and then an empty lot. Two houses are in front of me at the back of the cul-de-sac. I recognize Damaris sweeping the front porch. There are two houses on my left. The second one has a massive rooster statue in the front yard.
“Oh, my gosh,” I say, laughing. “You weren’t joking when you said there was a giant rooster here, were you?”
I pull into the driveway next to Jess’s truck. From my periphery, I notice Damaris has stopped sweeping.
A shot of nerves hits me hard, and I fumble around for my phone. I find it and type out a quick text.
Me: I’m here.
I barely hit send when Jess appears in front of my car.
Oh wow.
His hair is wet, styled like he jumped out of the shower and ran his fingers through it. A blue-and-green button-up hangs casually off his tall frame. Chino shorts give him a more polished look than the usual jeans or dirty work pants that I’m familiar with, and I can’t decide which look I like more.
He flashes me a warm smile and comes to my door.
“Hey,” I say as he pulls it open.
“Right on time.”
I climb out of the car and smooth down my long ruby-colored split maxi dress. After forty minutes in front of the mirror, I decided this was the best mix of relaxed yet looking like I tried. It also makes my chest look fuller and my butt rounder—so I’ll take it.