Page 35 of Callan

I sag against the kitchen counter, wrestling with persistent dots of sweat on my forehead.

“It’s fantastic,” I say, removing my hat and scarf and unzipping my winter jacket. “I’m waiting for several companies to call me back,” I lie before waiting for her to tell me why she’s calling me.

“Good. I’m not surprised to hear that. You’ve had some great work experience, and honestly, you’re overqualified for this job. But I still think you’d make a great secretary if you happened to nail the second interview with us, which I think you would. You can become our boss’ right hand if you’re as smart andindustrious as I think you are. That will open up a whole new world of opportunities for you.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I have you down for a second and final interview on January 4th, if that’s okay with you. I will email you the exact time and place and call you to confirm the date the day before. If things go all right with our hiring manager, you’ll probably meet your new boss as well. I have no doubt they will. What say you?”

My lips are carved in stone for a few good seconds, and I don’t know why.

This is the best news I’ve heard in weeks. I have some cash left from my side gig, my refrigerator is stocked, and now, I’m getting a new job?

Hooray for that.

I can use these days to finally relax and enjoy myself.

It will feel like a vacation with delicious wine and food, daily walks in the park, and binge watching my favorite movies in the evenings.

It will be phenomenal.

“I think it’s great. I look forward to seeing you that day. Will I be seeing you?” I ask, concerned.

“Yes. Of course you will.”

She laughs at the other end of the line before we exchange seasonal greetings and end the call.

It takes me a few moments to let it all sink in beforeI do a happy dance with my hands in the air and my hips swaying from side to side.

I need to call Kayla.

But first, I have to unpack my things and wipe the water from the floor.

My jacket slides onto the polished counter, and my boots meet the floor.

“What a mess,” I murmur, grabbing the mop.

Moments later, my boots are wiped clean and dry next to the heater while I retrieve the food from the bags.

A loaf of bread, cheese, salami, tomatoes, olives, grapes, lettuce, fish, and eggs.

Pasta, canned tomatoes, beans, and quinoa.

A bottle of wine.

I set the pecan pie and a box of cookiesnext to them, my mouth watering at the thought of digging into that later.

Kayla returns my call within moments.

“Don’t you fucking tell me,” she says, laughing. “You’ll get a new job. Woohoo.”

“It’s not a sure thing,” I say, smiling and uncorking the bottle of wine.

“It is a sure thing. No one calls people to schedule a second job interview three days before Christmas. I’m surprised people are still working. Everybody is on vacation.”

Smiling, I pour myself a glass of wine and speak.

“I hope this is not one of those situations when they’re desperate to fill that position because no one wants the job.”

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