“It was no big deal. Mrs. Royce is a friend of my mother’s, and I was happy to mention you.”
“It’s a big deal to me,” Maggie said.
“And how much schooling will you have left?” Ashley asked.
“Two years.” Once Maggie was hired at the hospital, she should be able to move out on her own. That was her plan, anyway. If she enjoyed living with Mrs. Royce, then she might stay on. It all depended on how well the relationship worked, as this was a new experience for them both.
Maggie was getting ahead of herself, though, as she had yet to get the green light.
* * *
—
Her first class was over and her spirits high when Maggie saw that she’d gotten a voice mail from Mrs. Royce, who asked her to return the call.
Eager now, Maggie stepped outside and hit the button that would automatically dial the number.
“Hello, is this Maggie?” the woman asked. She was a businesswoman in her late fifties who often worked late and worried about her pets being cooped up so long every day. With her husband working out of the country, she found the nights lonely and was looking for some help with her animals.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry I couldn’t take your call. I was in class.”
“I figured as much,” she said, and paused as if reluctant to continue. “Listen, Maggie, I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”
“You don’t? I don’t understand, everything sounded so positive yesterday when we met. Did any of my recommendations fall through?” A chill went down Maggie’s spine at the same time her heart shot up to her throat. She didn’t understand what could have gone wrong.
“It has nothing to do with you. I felt you would be perfect. I called your references and each one gave a glowing report. I was all ready to let you know you could have the room when I got a call from my brother. His daughter, my niece, is moving to Seattle and needs a place to live. She’s gone through a bad breakup, and Dean felt living with me would help her through this difficult time. I’m so sorry, Maggie.”
Swallowing down her disappointment, Maggie squared her shoulders. “There’s no need to apologize. I understand.”
“I’ll keep my ears open. And if I hear of anyone else looking for a boarder, I’ll give them your phone number, if that’s all right with you.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you, Mrs. Royce.”
“Things have a way of working out the way they are supposed to be,” she said kindly. “I know you’re discouraged now, but the right opportunity and the right person will turn up soon.”
Maggie certainly hoped so. She didn’t know how much longer she could endure living with her father.
Chapter 4
Joan sat at her desk and reread the letter from the HOA. The board president had seemed to take delight in chastising her for the condition of her yard. To mention the condition of her flower beds was a low blow. It wasn’t enough to outline her neglect; he’d made a point of explaining that such disregard for upkeep affected the property values of the entire development.
Joan couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The housing market in Seattle was booming. She sincerely doubted her unkempt lawn would dissuade anyone from purchasing a home in her area. Nevertheless, she needed to comply or be fined.
That letter had kept Joan awake most of the night. Crazy how a simple sheet of paper could unnerve her to the extent that she remained restless, tossing and turning, unsure how best to proceed. She felt overwhelmed, discombobulated, and unsure.
Something was terribly wrong with her. At one time, she’d handled the business dealings that went along with Jared’s practice and managed the office, and she’d dealt with situations far more threatening than this. That this chastisement should upset her this much was evidence of how unsettled her life had become, how far she’d allowed her self-confidence to slide.
What Emmie had been saying for the last few years was true. Joan had wrapped herself into a cocoon, insulating from the world to the point that any outside interference felt threatening. While inside her home, Joan felt safe and protected. Sheltered. After Jared’s death, she needed that comfort. The world outside her front door was risky. A virus ran rampant. People died. One place, and one place only, could she be guaranteed protection, and that was behind the locked front door of her home.
The letter seemed to shake the foundation she had stood on. It was almost as if she could feel the floor start to crumble beneath her. She needed to take action, and the sooner she dealt with this unpleasantness, the sooner she could retreat once again to what was familiar.
Sitting at her computer, she wasted a good hour on word games. The avoidance relaxed her to the point that she could look up information on local yard service companies. Several offered additional landscaping, along with weekly, biweekly, or monthly maintenance. After visiting the websites for four of the companies listed, she did due diligence and read the reviews. Two of the four had several five-star ratings and glowing comments.
Checking the time, she felt both businesses should be open by now. The first call went directly to voice mail.
“Thank you for calling Harrison Lawn and Landscaping service. I am currently unavailable, but please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you at my earliest convenience.” The greeting was followed by a loud beep.
“Ah, hi. I’m Joan Sample. My HOA said my lawn isn’t up to par. Would it be…could you kindly give me a call back. Thank you.” Not until she cut off the call did she realize she hadn’t left her phone number.
Dialing again, she listened to the spiel a second time and waited for the beep before she said, “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. That’s the problem, clearly. I was the one who called because of the letter I got from the HOA. I need you, if you would, to stop by and give me a quote, but I failed to leave my number for you to return my call. Silly of me, right? If I don’t take care of this soon, I’ll be fined, and no one wants a pay a fine, right? Oh, and if you want the job, you must love flowers. My number is 206-876-…”
Beep.
She didn’t get to finish before she was cut off. She’d babbled on so long she didn’t have time to leave her contact information.
How was it that she couldn’t even manage to leave a voice mail without screwing it up? Tossing her phone down on her desk, she covered her face with both hands and felt the strongest urge to cry. At one time she’d been competent. Capable. Unflappable. Now she couldn’t accomplish a phone call without making a fool of herself.
Joan bit into her lower lip as she struggled to acknowledge the truth of the woman she’d become. For the last few years, her sister had tried again and again to open Joan’s eyes by suggesting counseling. On their last conversation, she mentioned Joan taking in a boarder. It was time—past time, really—that she faced the future instead of hiding behind closed doors. At the mere thought her heart raced, and she felt paralyzed about where to start.
Closing her eyes, breathing evenly, Joan pictured herself as a butterfly.
She knew that leaving the cocoon was painful and often difficult. It was the struggle that made the butterfly strong enough to break free and able to fly away.