Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maggie
It’s funny how vacations can sometimes be more exhausting than just staying home. As I trudge my luggage up to my loft and slowly dig my keys out of my pocket, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been away for months instead of days. So much has happened. So much has changed.
“Miss Chandler!”
My door swings open before I can even get my key in the lock, and my landlord is on the other side.
“Mr. Rocco, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
He helps me with my suitcase and ushers me inside.
The smell of paint hits me first. I sweep the main room and notice that there are tools and bins neatly piled in the kitchen.
“I was hoping to be finished by the time you got back.” Mr. Rocco puts my suitcase by my bedroom door then motions to the ceiling. “I have some guys working on the roof. Those leaks you’ve been having won’t give you any trouble after today.” He smiles. “You notice the heat?”
As soon as he says it, I do notice that the usual chill of my loft is gone.
He’s smiling and nodding. “I fixed the thermostat and also had the chimney cleaned so you don’t have to worry about smoke coming in here no more.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Rocco. I really appreciate you taking care of those things.” Finally.
“I’m also going to give you a retro rebate on your rent.”
Um, what? My expression must give away my incredulity, because he laughs and waves his hand in a gesture of no big deal.
“It’s the least I can do. I should have gotten to this work months ago.” He clears his throat. “I’ll get out of here and let you relax. I’ll get my tools out of the way.”
“Thanks, Mr. Rocco.” I glance up at the ceiling and notice that fresh plaster is drying.
“Don’t mention it, Miss.” He clears his throat. “Actually, maybe you should mention it, to Mr. Doyle at least. Let him know all is good here.”
There’s a slight tremor to his voice.
“Just don’t tell him I told you to let him know, if you know what I mean.”
Liam said he would talk to my landlord. My heart clenches. “I will, and thanks again.” I don’t have the heart to tell him that I have no way of contacting Liam.
I wait for Mr. Rocco to leave before I slump down on my couch, feeling deflated and heartbroken.
Liam was being Liam once again, doing what he needed to take care of me, to make sure I’m comfortable and warm. And I can’t even thank him for it.
My phone dings, and my heart leaps. Could it be him? I pull it from my pocket and feel a second of disappointment when I see it’s my sister, not Liam, texting me.
I close my eyes. This could be it. My lightning strike.
And suddenly I have no time to wallow. I scramble from my couch. I have a portfolio to clean up.
…
I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous. Really nervous. For the first time since I graduated, I have a potential employer looking at my stuff, judging my ability to sell his product and market his brand, and my palms are sweating, I’m having a hard time breathing, and I can’t stop staring at the back of his head and trying with all the telepathic ability I don’t have to read his mind.
His silence might actually kill me.
“What can I say, Maggie?” Paul Martin, owner of Cognizance, turns his head only slightly, enough so he can look at me over his shoulder. He’s pointing at the computer screen where my proposed campaign is on full display. Cognizance is a ground-breaking company that specializes in designing user-friendly every day devices for people who have dementia. His products range from one-button cell phones to simple-to-use radios and clocks, among other things. I’ve designed the ads, projected the sell-throughs, and even A/B tested a few of them in various demographics. His memory aids aren’t just perfect for those suffering from memory imparting diseases but also for children who are struggling with learning disabilities as well, or at least that’s the angle I decided to aim part of my marking campaign on.
It was a risk, I know, but when I started looking through his catalogue, I could see how some of his products were very applicable in the education world. Hell, some of them would be ideal for my generation of multitaskers as well.
I worked for days and nights on that thing. In between shifts at the Coffee Hut and at the mall, I slogged on it, put everything I had into it, and now…now he’s just pointing and saying, what?
“This is fantastic work!” He turns fully and nails me with a beaming smile. “Really, what an amazing job you’ve done! Creative! Innovative! Everything I’ve been looking for.”
I literally cannot breathe. He’s taken my breath away with his compliment.
“Uh…I…”
Paul chuckles. “Charlotte told me how hard it’s been for you to land a job in your field.” He raises his hand. “Clearly not from lack of talent. You approached this from a direction I hadn’t been thinking of and made it work. Truly impressive.” He turns his hand sideways, outstretched toward me. “So what do you say? Do you want to work for me? I can’t pay you a lot.”
I wait for the punch line, the offer of an internship or some paltry wage that no one would even call a living wage.
“How does a starting salary of forty-five thousand with monthly bonus thresholds and full benefits sound?”
I open my mouth, close my mouth, look down at his hand, then back up to his eyes. This is for real, right?
“Maggie?”
“I accept!” It comes out in a rush, so I say it again as I’m taking his hand and shaking vigorously. “Yes! I would love to work for you! Thank you, Mr. Martin!”
“Call me Paul, please.” He’s still smiling as I continue to shake his hand. “Let’s get the paperwork sorted. How soon can you start?”
“Today! Tomorrow! Whenever you want me to!”
I’m following him to his office, which is at the top of a double wide set of stairs. He’s rented an old Victorian that’s been zoned for commercial. The previous owners had opened the ceiling so that the front foyer vaulted to the roof. Paul’s office overlooks the showroom floor where various stations are set up for customers to try each of his products. He books appointments with the families and makes the experience as comfortable as possible. I can totally envision an area close to the windows where children can play with some of his products.
“Let’s get this paperwork signed, then we’ll zip over to the factory for an hour or so and I’ll walk you through the production side of things. We’ll get your office space sorted, and you’ll start tomorrow first thing. That sound okay?”
“That sounds perfect!” I let my boss know at the Coffee Hut that I’d need to start working nights and weekends if I got the job here, so I know they’ll be ready to accommodate me. I’m not quite ready to give up that paycheck, as paltry as it is. The mall job will have to go, though. I like the safety net of having multiple paychecks, but I’m not superwoman.
…
After a morning of signing official documents, touring the factory, and meeting all of the employees there, Paul sends me on my way for lunch and afternoon to myself.
I’ve totally got a bounce in my step; there’s no denying that. Strangely, as much as I want to call Charlotte first, it’s my mom’s number I hit.
“Margaret, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Why aren’t you at work?”
“Mom, I have some news that I think will make you happy.”
“You applied for your LSATs! Oh, thank goodness, Margaret, you’ve finally—”
“No, Mom,” I sigh. “I got a job, in my field, heading a marketing department at an innovative company just like I always dreamed. It’s a good company, Mom, with an ethical business model and, well, I’m salaried, with full benefits and even optioned for monthly bonuses.”
There’s a beat of silence. I don’t know what I’m waiting for exactly.
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful! I always knew you could do it!”
And just like that, in the eyes of my mother, I’m an adult. Possibly even a successful one.
“I start tomorrow.”
“Wait until I tell you father, Margaret! Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Mom.” A flood of pride fills my body. To be truly accepted for once by my mother? Well, I could bask in the glow of it all day.
“Have you spoken to Charlotte lately? I haven’t been able to get a hold of her since the reunion. I think she’s keeping something from me. Do you know anything? Have you been speaking with her?”
I bite my lip and smirk. Yep, I know something that’s going to blow my mom’s brains to bits. “No, I haven’t talked to her since the reunion, either.” Other than via text when she forwarded Paul Martin’s contact information to me. “But we’re all coming for dinner on Sunday, right? So we’ll see her there.”
The big baby reveal. Unbeknownst to my mother, Charlotte and Doug will be dropping the bomb of their impending parenthood during the family meal. It should be quite the show. I have no idea just how my mother will take it. On the one hand, surely she’ll think she’s too young to be a grandmother and that Charlotte has so much to accomplish in her career still, but on the other hand, A BABY!! Who doesn’t love a baby?
“Well, you do have a point there. I’m sure she’s very busy.”
I wait for the usual jab about how busy lawyers are compared to people with marketing degrees, but it doesn’t come. Finally, some peace.
“How about we do some shopping on Saturday? I can come into the city and we’ll go look for some outfits for you new job? My treat.”
My mouth falls open for the second time today.
“Margaret? Are you still there? Hello?”
“Sorry, Mom, I’m here. Saturday sounds good. I can meet you there.”
“I’ll pick you up, and I’ll bring breakfast so we can eat first.”
Mom’s going for a home run. She’s only ever visited my loft once, on the day I moved in, and proceeded to nitpick it to death. Not that her complaints and concerns weren’t justified. Rent was cheap for a reason.
“That would be great!” I don’t mention the repairs because I want her to be as surprised as I was walking in to find all of the problems with my loft suddenly fixed.
Liam…
“Sounds good, dear. Okay, I have to go. I’ve got a manicure scheduled this afternoon. I’ll see you Saturday at nine.”
“See you Saturday.”
A warm rush of unexpected happiness washes through me, and I’m almost giddy from it. That call went better than I could have ever imagined. And she’s coming over to my place, willingly, without the usual hostility. I know this isn’t going to erase the years of turmoil between my mother and me, but I’m willing to enjoy it right now and see what happens later. Relationships aren’t easy—they take work, lots of it.
My thoughts turn to Liam like they usually do about fifty million times a day. Can’t help it. I look down at my phone, really wishing I could call him and tell him about my new job, about Mom’s reaction to my job, about Charlotte’s baby, and to thank him for helping me out with my landlord.
It’s been almost two weeks since the reunion. I don’t even know where Liam is, and my dad won’t tell me anything no matter how much I prod and poke at him. Even the news isn’t a great source of information. The only story I can find is related to a huge police raid that went down on the Monday afternoon of the reunion. There was a short shootout with police downtown that led to multiple arrests. No names were connected, but the whole thing happened in the time that Liam and I were together, making love one last time, so I know that what happened in Boston is what Liam and Dad were waiting for. Liam helped Dad get Shawn in custody and put an end to whatever deal was happening at the same time.
And that’s about all I know. Dad is a vault when it comes to work stuff. I don’t even know if he’s on the case. I don’t know if there are any links between him and Liam. I don’t know anything beyond the fact that Liam is safe. I can at least trust Dad in that he’ll tell me if Liam is in danger. At least, I hope he will.
Short of going to the courthouse and waiting around for the off chance that a trial has started, I have no real way of contacting Liam, which means I have no way of letting him know that I’m not ready for it to end. That feeling of being close to him, of supporting him, now especially, when his family is going through this, is so strong and yet I’m held immobile by a lack of information. I wish there was some way I could let him know that I’m thinking of him, that he’s on my mind a lot.
I sigh at my phone again as if it will somehow figure out a way to contact Liam on its own.
Seems hopeless. Dead ends whichever way I turn in a city where there are just too many turns I could take.
But I’m not going to wait around sobbing over it, either. My life moves forward. Starting with the Coffee Hut. I have to let Stella know about the job, and since I’m doing a shift tonight anyway, I figure why not go a little early? It’s not like I have somewhere better to be anyway, and the extra money will help knock down my student loans.
I slip my earbuds in and find my favorite playlist. It’s only a few blocks to the Coffee Hut, and the weather is still really great. The sun is shining, the day is good, with Liam aside, things are aligning for me finally, and it feels nice.
I curl my lips into a smile that feels good on my face and nod at the next few people who pass me on the street. Music flows through my brain, amping me up and setting my thoughts adrift, away from all of the concerns I have, away from my student loans and my mother’s expectations.
Today I got a job in my field. I impressed Paul Martin with my skill. Today I proved that hard work pays off even when you have to rely a little bit on timing and luck.
If there’s one thing I know I’m really good at, it’s perseverance in the face of the greatest odds. A quality, I think, that will serve me well no matter what I put my mind to. And my mind, as always, is on Liam.