Page 41 of Ten Christmases Without You
“I quit my job.”
As expected, Madison gasped. “You quit?”
“Two weeks ago. Today’s my first day unemployed.”
“Wow. Well, I’m glad you quit. But surprised. I never thought you’d actually leave that job.”
Emmy stabbed the toast with her fork and cut a bite. “I didn’t either.” She told Madison about how Vivienne had shown up to check on her in the meeting.
“It’s odd that she never gave you a chance to progress—in four years.”
“I know.” She got up and retrieved the salt, bringing it back to the table. “Mom’s whole life before Dad was such a mystery. She hung out with Vivienne and wrote mysterious names like Mitchell Augustine on the back of her drawings.”
“I asked Aunt Elsie and Aunt Charlotte if they’d heard of him, but they hadn’t either,” Madison said.
“I found out more about him online.” Emmy told her what she’d read while she cut another bite of toast. “You know, I sent this Mitchell Augustine an email. I sent him an email two weeks ago. I told him who I was and that I’d like to find out if he knew Mom.”
“What has gotten into you?” Madison said. “Quitting your job and now reaching out to the rich and famous? Who are you?”
She laughed. “Maybe I’m having some sort of early midlife crisis.”
“Maybe. Have you heard back from him?”
“No, but I’m guessing a billionaire has better things to do than email me.”
“Howareyou managing?”
Emmy sighed. “I’m not sure yet.”
“If you need to stay with us, you’re more than welcome to.”
“Thanks.”
While she was thankful for her sister’s kindness, the last thing Emmy wanted was to impose on her. She was going to have to figure her life out—and quickly.
After breakfast,as she searched for jobs, the television interview she’d seen on the morning show and Charlie’s comment floated around in Emmy’s mind. She sat at the table and picked up her pen. What were her goals? What excited her about PR? But her mind kept going back to Charlie. When she was with him, she didn’t really care about her working life, which scared her. If she were being honest with herself, did she have a passion for the career she’d thrown herself into? Had Charlie’s doubt about his career rubbed off on her somehow?
Thinking about Charlie wouldn’t pay her bills.
Was there anything new she wanted to try? She peered down at the job list she’d made from her search. Nothing stood out. She dropped the pen and leaned back in the chair.
Her gaze fell on the Garnet & Petticoat dress that was still hanging on her closet door. She squinted at it, imagining a deeper neckline trimmed in satin with wide, gathered folds of fabric around the skirt. With an emerald choker, it would be stunning. Her mother had been an endless stream of creativity. She’d have come up with an alternative design that would knock Emmy’s socks off.
Emmy’s creativity had always been compared to her mother’s. From the time she was a young girl, her family and friends would lean over her drawings and say things like, “Wow, you’re just like your mom.” While their comparison had been in the vein of flattery, she was beginning to see that it had a profound effect on her. There was an unspoken expectation to match or surpass her mom’s creative success. Living in the shadow of someone else’s achievements made her feel inadequate. While she could see how that view had played out inher adult life, she had no idea how to fix it. She could never be her mother. And given how much she missed her mom, it would hurt too much to try to be like her. That was the entire reason she’d chosen PR—she could be creative without having to dip her toes into the field of design.
Emmy opened her computer to see if she could search for how to come out from under someone’s shadow. It was doubtful that the answer would be in cyberspace, but at the very least, maybe she could jot down some numbers of counselors. Maybe she needed to talk to someone about her feelings. Would that help?
As she clicked off the job page, however, she noticed an email notification in the corner. She opened the screen and sucked in a tiny breath of surprise. Mitchell Augustine had emailed her back.
Hello, Emmy,
Thank you for your email. I think the best thing you could do is ask your mother about me. I’m really not comfortable sharing anything without her approval.
Best,
Mitchell
He doesn’t know she’s gone.
