Chasing the Tide
Page 65
“I’ll pick something up for myself. You don’t need to make me anything,” I declared.
He visibly relaxed. “Okay. That’s good. I don’t want Murphy to not get his exercise. He gets hyper if he doesn’t.”
I walked out of the bathroom, Flynn right behind me. “We definitely don’t want Murphy to get any more hyper,” I said, rubbing the dog’s head on my way out of the room.
I grabbed my purse and car keys and turned to give Flynn one more kiss.
“Leonard always tells me to take deep breaths and go to a happy place when I’m nervous or worried,” Flynn suggested.
“Okay. Deep breaths and a happy place,” I nodded my head, slinging my purse on my shoulder.
“What’s your happy place?” I asked before leaving, genuinely curious.
Flynn smiled. His lips curving upward, soft and sweet. He looked at me through his lashes and my heart melted into a puddle at my feet.
“With you,” he answered.
**
“Miss McCallum, it’s nice to see you again,” Wilma the gloomy receptionist said after I arrived at Lambert and Associates. Her words were at odds with her droopy mouth and pissed off expression.
“Thank you, it’s nice to see you again as well,” I replied, giving myself an inner fist pump for remembering basic social skills.
“Have a seat and Mr. Lambert and Mr. Weaver will be with you shortly.” Wilma had already turned back to her computer screen and I took that as a cue to leave her alone.
I sat down and looked at my watch. I was a little early but I figured that it was better to be early than late.
I wasn’t sitting long, thank god, when a familiar looking man with a rather large potbelly and bad comb over walked out into the reception area and approached me, holding out his hand.
“Ellie McCallum?”
I nodded, getting to my feet. “That’s me,” I said, forcing myself to smile.
“I’m Will Lambert. Thank you for coming in.” He shook my hand. It was a weak wristed handshake that reminded me of a fish. I followed him behind Wilma’s desk down a small, narrow hallway. He opened the door to a cramped conference room where a younger man with thick blond hair and black-framed glasses sat at a circular table.
The new man got to his feet and held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Vince Weaver. You must be Ellie McCallum.”
“So I’ve been told,” I responded and grimaced. Now was not the time for my witty sarcasm. Bad, Ellie!
I cleared my throat and tried for the smiling thing again. “Nice to meet you.”
Smooth, Ellie! Way to win points right off the bat.
“Have a seat. Would you like some coffee? Water?” Mr. Lambert asked, waving me to a seat across from Mr. Weaver.
“Water would be great,” I said, figuring I’d end up with dry mouth in about ten seconds.
Mr. Lambert put a glass of water in front of me and joined his partner on the other side of the table. They looked down at a paper in front of them, which was most likely my less than impressive resume.
Mr. Lambert looked up with a sincere smile. “So Ellie, first I have to say, I know you may not recognize me, but I used to work at the clerk’s office at Wellston General District Court. I’m glad to see that you’ve done so well.”
I flushed bright, cherry tomato red. My jaw instantly tightened. Mr. Weaver looked at me with wide eyes.
I couldn’t believe Mr. Lambert was bringing this up…in my freaking interview. Weren’t there privacy laws against that or something?
I sat up straighter and folded my hands in my lap, trying like hell not to explode.
Should I even respond to that statement? I chose silence instead of serving him with a dose of Ellie tongue-lashing.
“I was an assistant clerk while I finished my accounting degree. I must say I don’t miss dealing with the court system. Though I’m sure you understand that.”
Okay, this guy was being a total asshole. I couldn’t tell if he was intentionally being a dick or was just unfortunately oblivious.
I didn’t say anything, scared that if I opened my mouth it would be to tell this guy to go straight to hell.
“So you ended up going to school. That’s amazing!” Mr. Lambert said with a hint of incredulity and I wanted to bash my head into the table.
Of all the dumb luck, I had to apply for a position with someone who knew the more sordid details of my life.
I knew walking out wasn’t an option, I had come this far and I really needed the job. So I dug down deep for the brightest, fakest smile I could muster and I plastered perky all over my tragically frozen face.
“Isn’t it?” I replied, with just a hint of sarcasm, that Mr. Lambert clearly didn’t pick up on.
“It says here that you graduated just over a month ago. With a major in English. What in the world do you plan to do with that degree? Write a book?” Mr. Lambert asked, chortling as though he wasn’t blatantly insulting me.
“Well, if ending world hunger by writing the next great American novel doesn’t pan out, I’m hoping to answer phones for you,” I volleyed back, my smile so wide and so brittle I thought my face would crack in half.
Mr. Lambert obviously loved that answer. He slapped his knee with his hand as though we were having this totally amusing conversation. What a fucker.
Mr. Weaver looked uncomfortable with his partner’s less than polite remarks. “Your resume says you don’t have much in the way of administrative work experience, but you were responsible for inventory as well as shipping and receiving at JAC’s Quick Stop.”
He visibly relaxed. “Okay. That’s good. I don’t want Murphy to not get his exercise. He gets hyper if he doesn’t.”
I walked out of the bathroom, Flynn right behind me. “We definitely don’t want Murphy to get any more hyper,” I said, rubbing the dog’s head on my way out of the room.
I grabbed my purse and car keys and turned to give Flynn one more kiss.
“Leonard always tells me to take deep breaths and go to a happy place when I’m nervous or worried,” Flynn suggested.
“Okay. Deep breaths and a happy place,” I nodded my head, slinging my purse on my shoulder.
“What’s your happy place?” I asked before leaving, genuinely curious.
Flynn smiled. His lips curving upward, soft and sweet. He looked at me through his lashes and my heart melted into a puddle at my feet.
“With you,” he answered.
**
“Miss McCallum, it’s nice to see you again,” Wilma the gloomy receptionist said after I arrived at Lambert and Associates. Her words were at odds with her droopy mouth and pissed off expression.
“Thank you, it’s nice to see you again as well,” I replied, giving myself an inner fist pump for remembering basic social skills.
“Have a seat and Mr. Lambert and Mr. Weaver will be with you shortly.” Wilma had already turned back to her computer screen and I took that as a cue to leave her alone.
I sat down and looked at my watch. I was a little early but I figured that it was better to be early than late.
I wasn’t sitting long, thank god, when a familiar looking man with a rather large potbelly and bad comb over walked out into the reception area and approached me, holding out his hand.
“Ellie McCallum?”
I nodded, getting to my feet. “That’s me,” I said, forcing myself to smile.
“I’m Will Lambert. Thank you for coming in.” He shook my hand. It was a weak wristed handshake that reminded me of a fish. I followed him behind Wilma’s desk down a small, narrow hallway. He opened the door to a cramped conference room where a younger man with thick blond hair and black-framed glasses sat at a circular table.
The new man got to his feet and held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Vince Weaver. You must be Ellie McCallum.”
“So I’ve been told,” I responded and grimaced. Now was not the time for my witty sarcasm. Bad, Ellie!
I cleared my throat and tried for the smiling thing again. “Nice to meet you.”
Smooth, Ellie! Way to win points right off the bat.
“Have a seat. Would you like some coffee? Water?” Mr. Lambert asked, waving me to a seat across from Mr. Weaver.
“Water would be great,” I said, figuring I’d end up with dry mouth in about ten seconds.
Mr. Lambert put a glass of water in front of me and joined his partner on the other side of the table. They looked down at a paper in front of them, which was most likely my less than impressive resume.
Mr. Lambert looked up with a sincere smile. “So Ellie, first I have to say, I know you may not recognize me, but I used to work at the clerk’s office at Wellston General District Court. I’m glad to see that you’ve done so well.”
I flushed bright, cherry tomato red. My jaw instantly tightened. Mr. Weaver looked at me with wide eyes.
I couldn’t believe Mr. Lambert was bringing this up…in my freaking interview. Weren’t there privacy laws against that or something?
I sat up straighter and folded my hands in my lap, trying like hell not to explode.
Should I even respond to that statement? I chose silence instead of serving him with a dose of Ellie tongue-lashing.
“I was an assistant clerk while I finished my accounting degree. I must say I don’t miss dealing with the court system. Though I’m sure you understand that.”
Okay, this guy was being a total asshole. I couldn’t tell if he was intentionally being a dick or was just unfortunately oblivious.
I didn’t say anything, scared that if I opened my mouth it would be to tell this guy to go straight to hell.
“So you ended up going to school. That’s amazing!” Mr. Lambert said with a hint of incredulity and I wanted to bash my head into the table.
Of all the dumb luck, I had to apply for a position with someone who knew the more sordid details of my life.
I knew walking out wasn’t an option, I had come this far and I really needed the job. So I dug down deep for the brightest, fakest smile I could muster and I plastered perky all over my tragically frozen face.
“Isn’t it?” I replied, with just a hint of sarcasm, that Mr. Lambert clearly didn’t pick up on.
“It says here that you graduated just over a month ago. With a major in English. What in the world do you plan to do with that degree? Write a book?” Mr. Lambert asked, chortling as though he wasn’t blatantly insulting me.
“Well, if ending world hunger by writing the next great American novel doesn’t pan out, I’m hoping to answer phones for you,” I volleyed back, my smile so wide and so brittle I thought my face would crack in half.
Mr. Lambert obviously loved that answer. He slapped his knee with his hand as though we were having this totally amusing conversation. What a fucker.
Mr. Weaver looked uncomfortable with his partner’s less than polite remarks. “Your resume says you don’t have much in the way of administrative work experience, but you were responsible for inventory as well as shipping and receiving at JAC’s Quick Stop.”
