She was not entirely wrong, except…
“I’d like to earn this job on merit,” I said.
She eyed me speculatively, but I refused to fidget. I knew exactly what she saw. I was dressed in clothing that rivaled hers in brand and price, as I’d emptied most of my savings in order to purchase a professional wardrobe. My hair was just as immaculate and we were almost equally wealthy. Hers earned, mine given…but in that moment, it didn’t matter to her.
“I promised your father a favor for all of his business over the years, and I do not generally do favors for people, despite how much I like them or how well I know them. You will not keep this job based on your name, so I’m willing to offer you the opportunity to earn permanent placement.”
Even though I was effectively chastised, relief coursed through me. She was brutally honest, and I respected that. “Understood.”
“Good. Then set your stuff down. I realize you weren’t planning on working today, but with your family’s benefit coming up next week and Monica going into labor early, I’m behind. I need you as quickly as you can be ready.”
I set my purse on the top of the desk and smiled. “I’m ready.”
Her lips twitched at the edges. The first hint of a smile on her hard features. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”
—
I worked all morning and through a rushed lunch break. Simone, along with the main receptionist, spent all morning explaining to me what had already been planned, what still needed to be finalized, and where her files were so I could contact the various vendors as well as ensure the RSVPs had all arrived.
I hadn’t felt this energized since I had chased chickens on a farm.
Pulling out my phone to check for any messages, I smiled when I saw a text from Tyson.
Blackbird: Thinking of you. See you tonight?
It was sent two hours ago. He’d spent most of the weekend working hard at his grandfather’s office, preparing some new case he had to deal with, and getting adjusted to his new job, too.
We hadn’t seen each other since I left his house Thursday morning.
I typed a quick reply and hit send.
Would love to. Fireside Grill? Have to look at some apartments and I have news for you.
Without waiting for his response, knowing he might not see it right away, I slipped my phone back into my purse so I wouldn’t be distracted.
Throughout the afternoon, I sat in meetings with Simone about other upcoming events and answered the surprisingly complex phone system. On top of meeting Simone, I also met four of her other event planners, two more assistants, and the small IT department. It was a small office, but everyone was warm and welcoming. I quickly learned that while Simone was direct, sometimes even coming across as cold, she held the respect of everyone in the office, and they seemed to genuinely like her.
I almost wanted to thank my father for tossing this opportunity right into my lap.
By the time my workday was done, I was equal parts exhausted and thrilled as I picked up my purse and slung the strap over my shoulder.
“There isn’t anything else you need from me today, is there?” I asked Simone, stopping at her doorway.
Clicking fingers on the keyboard paused briefly enough to wave me off before they returned to rapid typing. “Nope. We’re good. Thank you.”
I turned to leave when I heard her call my name again.
“Yes?” I tilted my head and waited.
Her hands paused on the keyboard and hovered. “I meant what I said earlier. I might be giving you this opportunity because of your father, but you’ll have to earn your spot.”
I got it. I actually liked that. “Understood.”
Her red lips stretched into a small smile. “I also want you to know that based on what you’ve shown me today, I have no doubt you’ll do just that.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice a bit breathy. Stress that I hadn’t realized I was carrying melted from shoulders.
“Don’t thank me. Just continue to work hard. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Without another glance, her fingers began moving and her eyes refocused on her computer screen. Earlier, I had learned that she usually worked long into the night and was often at the office hours before anyone else. The woman was a workhorse.
With a slight pep to my step, I left the office and boarded the elevator. As soon as I started my car, I grabbed my phone from my purse and checked the screen while I let the car cool down from the humid heat it had sat in all day.
Three missed calls. One from my father. Two from Malik.
One text from Tyson:
Blackbird: Fireside at 7?
I typed out a response letting him know I’d meet him there and then put the phone in my cup holder. My father and Malik could wait a while.
I had a new home to go find.
—
The apartment was perfect. I spun in a slow circle, taking in the beautiful architecture of the old-style building. Peace flooded my veins. How was it possible that in a matter of hours, everything I had wanted seemed to be falling into place?
This place felt like home.
There wasn’t a single thing about this apartment, the first I’d seen, that didn’t meet every qualification I had for a home. Secure entrance with a doorman—while I wanted my freedom, I knew my family had enemies. Security was important.
The complex had been recently built but the architecture kept the feel of historic Latham Hills. Doorways were curved, the woodwork a deep, rich oak that could have come straight from the 1920s, but the kitchen was outfitted with the most top-of-the-line appliances, new cupboards, and a modern worktop. Everything about the place screamed elegance.
I absolutely loved it.
“I’ll take it.” Finishing my slow spin, I looked at the apartment manager.
Nancy Maskin had been nothing but helpful and kind. “Excellent.” She opened a file folder filled with information along with a leasing contract. “We can take care of this now, if you’re not in a hurry.”
“I’m not.” I was. It was getting close to seven and I was anxious to share all of my good fortune from the day with Tyson over a burger. This time, I was getting the one loaded with bacon. But I also wanted to get this taken care of. There were only two, two-bedroom apartments currently available and I didn’t want to lose one.
I met Nancy at the kitchen island and pulled out my checkbook, ready to give her a deposit and first month’s rent after she rambled off her necessary spiel. It was only a few moments before I handed her my check, emptying the rest of my savings, and signed on several dotted lines.
I did it.
I just rented my first home. It was in a convenient location, close to the quaint downtown of Latham Hills as well as the freeway that would take me to downtown Detroit. With my father’s house on the south side of Detroit and my new, albeit temporary, office and Latham Hills on the northern edge, I was extending my commute to the house, but this place was worth it.
“Thank you,” I told Nancy as we shook hands at the front door.
My phone buzzed in my purse like it had done several times while I was touring the apartment but until then, I’d ignored it.
“I’ll call you as soon as your approval goes through,” Nancy said. She locked the door behind us as we exited. “It should only be a day or two, but I don’t see anything stopping this.”
“That’d be kind of you.”
I reached for my phone in my purse and pulled it out as we stepped into the elevator. It buzzed in my hand again, and I frowned when I saw my father’s name lighting up the screen.
A weight fell in my stomach.
He never called me this incessantly.
“Excuse me,” I muttered to Nancy and unlocked my phone. “I have to take this call. Is there anything else we need?”
“Not at all. I’ll send your information in as soon as I get back to the office.”
“Thank you.” I tried to smile but it felt forced.
As soon as I stepped into the lobby of the apartment complex’s main building, I sat down on a red leather couch and hit the redial button. My father answered halfway through the first ring.
“Where are you?” he snapped.
“I’m in Latham Hills looking at apartments. What’s going on?”
“You need to come home.”
My breath stalled in my chest for a moment, but I fought through my fear. “Is it Mom?”
“Just get home. Immediately.”
The click of him hanging up echoed in my ear and I closed my eyes. My shoulders heaved. I just ate dinner there last night. I spent most of the day before over at the house helping Clarissa bake more pies. My mother slept most of the day but was awake and alert for small intervals. How could she already be doing so poorly that I needed to hurry home?
With what felt like sludge weighing down my legs, I pushed off the couch and managed a weak wave to the doorman, Billie. He looked ancient—late sixties, at best, and his hair was completely gray. He sported what had to be the world’s worst comb-over, but he seemed friendly.
I reached my car, parked in a visitor’s spot directly outside the leasing center’s Clubhouse. The complex also housed a small workout room which I would most likely rarely see, but I also knew it had a pool and hot tub, which I was looking forward to using often once summer hit.
Once I started the car, I remembered my dinner plans with Tyson. The easiest thing would be to send him a text, but I wanted to hear his voice. Thankfully, once I dialed his number he answered almost as quickly as my father had.