Nice one. She mentally hit herself in the head.
“Not like you.” Virginia heaved another bag of soil from the flat to the pile on sale. “You’re white like you’ve never worked a day in your life. And trust me—” she laughed a big, loud trucker kind of laugh that made Julia feel about two inches tall “—that’s not a nice white.”
Well, you’re not a nice woman. She almost said it, but Virginia Holmes or not, Julia wanted a job. And she wanted a job here, amongst the bags of dirt and flats of jade plants, the blossoming dogwoods and cherry trees. She wanted to water the pine trees with their burlap-covered root balls and the rose bushes in their black planters that lined the asphalt.
She wanted to take care of the damn plants.
“Mama?” Ben asked from where she’d parked him about five feet away next to the hose equipment.
“And another thing—” Virginia jerked her gloves higher on her wrists and then plunked her hands on her thick waist “—who brings their son to get a job?”
“A woman who doesn’t know any better!” Julia finally said between clenched teeth. “A woman doing the best she can. And I wouldn’t mind doing the best I could for you, but if you want to be a racist jerk, that’s fine. I don’t need this job.” She stiffened her sagging spine and stopped her runaway mouth. Her fingers tingled from the adrenaline that flooded her system. That’s a first. She took a deep breath and shook out her hands. She almost laughed—the first time in her life she actually stands up to someone and the woman clearly couldn’t care less.
“Thanks for your time,” Julia managed to say politely.
She turned away, hoping that Vons had a flower department and that the manager didn’t care how small she was. She and Ben were halfway past the annuals when Virginia’s rusty bark called out after her.
“Fill out an application and leave it with my daughter, Sue, at the cash. We’re not hiring right now, but you never know.”
Julia turned to thank her, but the cantanker ous old woman had already moved on.
“Great,” she muttered.
“Great!” Ben echoed, clapping his hands and the poor sweet boy really meant it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BEN KNOCKED THE TOWER of blocks Julia had built to the ground. The clatter and minor destruction startled then thrilled him. He clapped, laughing and looking to her to join in the fun.
She applauded and started to rebuild, but her heart was a million miles away.
It was Wednesday morning and a week had gone by since she’d started her job search. She’d applied to five jobs and so far, nothing.
Things were not going as planned. She’d used up much of her savings to get here and the check from the army wouldn’t come until the end of the month. There would be an insurance settlement, but she didn’t know how much or when it might arrive. All the paperwork she received made vague promises about “settling in full after the inquiry.” The thought of receiving money for Mitch’s death made bile rise up in her throat which meant that money would be for Ben, for college. It was only right.
Agnes’s open hospitality had evolved into a hovering kind of tyranny. Every decision Julia made—whether to give Ben applesauce or yogurt, to let him have juice or water—had become a platform for Agnes’s opinion on what was bad for her grandson.
Every time Julia left for a walk, or returned minutes later than she’d said she would, Agnes expressed her disapproval in the icy turn of her shoulder, the superior lift of her nose.
Julia couldn’t win with Agnes and she didn’t know if the change in treatment was the result of something she’d done or if it was simply just the way Agnes acted. Certainly Julia’s previous experiences with Agnes would support the latter. But as long as Julia was dependent on the Adamses’ hospitality, she was forced to be polite.
That pressure fueled her desire for a job, a place of her own. Food she’d bought and provided for her son. She needed to stop feeling like a guest in her own life.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the phone ringing in the other room. Her cell phone number was long distance so she’d given all the prospective employers the Adamses’ number. Her heart jumped into her throat—maybe this was the call she’d been waiting for. It was stupid and foolish but the prayer was there just the same.