Page 3 of Joy to Noel
“I already lose my mind with her on the daily,” I groan. Ivy is one of those clueless people who doesn’t adhere to social norms. She tends to push the boundaries of acceptable behavior. It’s impossible to number the random men, animals, and questionable substances that have circulated through our rental house due to Ivy’s whims. “Amy and her fiancé are moving to Texas after the wedding, so she won’t be renewing the lease with us at the end of February.”
Clara gives me a sympathetic look. “At least she gave you plenty of notice. You could always move to Noel!” Clara says with a wink.
“Ha ha,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I already moved to the city from one small town. As much as I love you, I’m not about to reverse course.”
Chapter two
Liam
February
“Excuse me? I’m going where?” I ask.
My boss glances at his computer. I appreciate the extra step of confirmation because I’d really like his first statement to be incorrect.
“Yes, Arkansas. Noel, Arkansas, to be exact,” Cal confirms. “One of our subsidiaries, Pure Fur All, opened a new pet food production plant there a few months ago. Apparently, the plant manager was a total disaster and made a mess of the entire thing. You’re going to fix it.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut.
I’m a fixer. This is what I do. This is what I excel at—swooping in to clean up other people’s messes. Ruthlessly rearranging personnel and systems until things are running smooth as butter. Then, I hightail it out to the next fiasco. Sometimes I’m able to resolve the issues remotely from Holden Incorporated’s headquarters with a few drop-in visits on site, but bigger messes require my in-person presence for weeks or months at a time.
I just got back to Houston after a two-month job in Arizona optimizing an organic laundry detergent production line. I’d hoped to have a small reprieve at the home office before being unleashed on the next screwed-up factory.Honestly, why are there so many idiots in charge of running things? I suppose it’s job security for me. Even if it means I never get to stay in one place for very long.
“You’re the best we have, Liam,” Cal says. “And this one’s a major issue. Probably not a quick fix. We need our best on the job.”
“I know I’m the best,” I blurt before sighing, hands on my hips. “I just don’t want to spend months in some podunk Arkansas town.”
“Well, unless you’re interested in a demotion to a different position with less pay, you’ll get in your car and drive to Arkansas. You have two weeks to enjoy Houston while you wrap up paperwork from your last gig and prep for this one, but then I expect you to get out there, podunk town or not,” Cal says with a no-nonsense tone. When I don’t answer immediately, he adds, “Liam? Should I contact HR about open positions?”
Gritting my teeth, I glower at Cal. “No. You know I’ll do it. Email over the files so I can research what I’m walking into.”
“Already done,” Cal replies. “And Angie has arranged lodging, although it may be a temporary solution depending on how long the job takes.”
My brow furrows. “Will I not be staying in the same rental as the previous plant manager?”
“Nope. The town is too small to have very many rental options. The manager was driving in from Bentonville every day, which was likely part of the issue. Talk to Angie if you want more details,” Cal says as he takes a seat behind his desk. His form of dismissal.
“Fine,” I practically growl as I exit his corner office. Angie’s desk is right outside, but she accurately reads my expression and doesn’t attempt to talk to me on my way out. I beeline to my own small office, which sits empty the majority of the year. Once my computer is powered on, I open the files for the Pure Fur All plant and click the “print” button. I prefer to mark up physical papers for my initial deep dive into failing facilities.
I spend the rest of the day working on reports from the Arizona job and leave the office at five o’clock sharp. I don’t bother getting housing details from Angie because I’d rather live in denial about going to Arkansas for as long as possible.Hamlet is not going to be happy about leaving again so soon.
Striding through the parking garage, I click to unlock my black Yukon Denali, stowing my leather satchel in the back seat. On the shortdrive to my apartment, my phone rings with a call from my sister, Hana. I send an auto-reply letting her know I’ll call her back. Stopping to grab takeout from one of my favorite Tex-Mex places, I reach my building and take the elevator up to the eighth floor. The second I step through the door, Hamlet comes running over, meowing loudly in greeting.
Crouching down, I run my hand across his striped gray fur, and he arches his back into the touch. “Hi, my friend,” I say, and he meows in response. He sniffs the bag of food in my hand—not because he thinks I’ll give him any, but because he thoroughly inspects every new item brought into his space. When he’s done, he leans back into my hand, meowing again. “My day was okay. You’re not going to be very happy with me when I tell you what happened, so let’s not talk about it yet.”
After filling Hamlet’s dish with the expensive food for his sensitive stomach, I sit down at the table with my own dinner. I video call Hana and prop my phone up against the napkin holder in front of me.
“Annyeong,” she answers in Korean. “Or should I say ‘cheerio’ now that I’m in London?”
I roll my eyes at her. “Well, ‘cheerio’ is used as a farewell, not a hello in the UK. But a simple ‘hi’ will suffice since we both speak American English as our primary language.”
Hana harrumphs. “I’m trying to pretend I fit in here as effortlessly as you can. I didn’t have the luxury of spending my first eight years of life living in London like you did.Halmeonialways wants to talk in Korean, and it’s hurting my brain to think so much. How did you do it?”
“Well, growing up bilingual isn’t exactly the same as you attempting to learn more Korean now as an adult. Dad never really made us speak it casually at home outside of lessons, so you’re at a disadvantage,” I reason before taking a bite.
“Yes, let’s blame that instead of my brain’s slow processing speed,” Hana jokes. “How is it being back in Houston? Was Ham happy to get home?”
“Stop calling him Ham,” I chide.
