Page 53 of Trusting You
But I don’t want this life. I want to be back in the city, in an office. Kicking ass and taking names in expensive shoes. Don’t I?
I told myself I wanted a corporate career. I wanted to climb the ladder.
I wanted a 401k and stock options and yearly exotic vacations.
I wanted to live in the city and soak up art and culture and museums.
But, if I was being honest with myself, I had lived in New York for almost nine years. And how much did I really do? I worked too much to ever appreciate anything or go anywhere. And the cost of living was so high that in the event I had the time, I certainly didn’t have the money to do anything exciting. I didn’t have any significant friendships there, I had no time for hobbies, and I felt continually trapped and suffocated by my life.
So maybe it was time to put on my big girl pants and be honest. Did I really belong there? Just because I had built up some unrealistic fantasy in my head didn’t mean it was true.
I had no delusions about Havenport.
I had no delusions about Liam.
But I had found a place that accepted me entirely and welcomed my quirks. And instead of having to change or adapt to fit in, I was finally embracing who I really was.
Maybe this was who I really was meant to be. Maybe there was room in this town, and in Liam’s heart, for me—flaws and all.
* * *
“Excuse me, Cecelia?”
I removed my earbuds and saw Leah Bell standing before me in all her early morning punk glory. The fuchsia High Tide apron clashed with her lavender hair and black leather leggings, but somehow she made it work.
“Hi, Leah, how are you?”
“Great. Busy…tired. Our twins just started kindergarten and I have been so stressed about it.”
“Well, that’s exciting. I didn’t know you and Dave had kids. My mom taught kindergarten here for thirty years before she retired.”
“Oh yes. I love your mom. She is such a hoot. They actually have Mrs. Foster this year.”
“Lucy? She is an old friend of my mom’s. Trust me, they are in great hands.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
She tucked her hands in the pocket of her apron. “So I don’t want to bother you. But I wanted to ask you if you would be interested in doing some freelance marketing and branding work for us?”
I almost spit out my coffee.
“Um, me?”
“Dave and I have seen what you’ve done with the brewery, and you are so talented.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“We’ve been doing well here since we opened, but we want to take things to the next level and potentially expand. We want to upgrade our website, logos, social media, the whole thing. Maybe even start a blog or e-book with Aunt Betty’s recipes. Obviously, this would just be a few hours of your time, but we would love to pick your brain and get some ideas from a professional.”
“Wow, I am so flattered.”
“Do you have a business card?”
“Ha…no. But let me give you my cell.”
“It would mean so much to us if you would consider it. I know it’s small potatoes for you.”
“No, no. It’s not at all. I love High Tide, and I want you to succeed. I am not planning to stay in town much longer, just till after the holidays, but let me mull it over and get back to you?”
