Page 2 of Sunset Serenade
Rose couldn’t stomach any more of their peppiness. She shoved a few forkfuls of egg into her mouth and stood. “I’ll make sure to tell them that at the end of the interview.”
“Lucy would,” Lillian said with a laugh. “She’d give them a stern lecture on why they would be fools not to hire her.”
Lucy nodded. “Confidence is the way, young grasshopper.”
“I’m not sure that would work for me,” Rose said.
“Right, that kind of attitude doesn’t work for people-pleasers,” Lucy added, then paused. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
Rose wished she was more like her sister: Bold. Poised. Fulfilled.
She didn’t even need to beallof those things. She’d settle for a chance at being happy.
It didn’t matter how hard she wished, though. “Ha, yeah. I know.”
She pulled on her suit jacket and buttoned the center button, then quickly unbuttoned it when it restricted her breathing.
She didn’t remember it being so tight. Had it shrunk? There was that picture from last weekend where she looked…bigger. Maybe those extra few pounds had really been an extra ten pounds. Or an extra twenty…
Ugh. Rose had a complicated relationship with food, she knew that. She was trying to get better.
Still, she hated pictures. They could ruin her day, or an entire weekend. She could be feelingreallygood about herself, and then a picture would appear and she started to question everything.
There wasn’t time to get worked up about any of it now. She let out a sigh. “I’d better go. Thanks for breakfast.”
“Good luck!” Lillian called out.
She slipped out of their apartment and into the cool morning air. It was crisp, and she felt a pang of sadness as she reached her dew-kissed car.
A job on the mainland meant leaving this beautiful island behind, with its twisted, red-barked trees, its miles of rocky beaches, and its far-reaching view of the sea from the mountaintop that was only a short drive from her apartment. It meant moving away from her mom and her sisters. It meant starting over.
Maybe that was what she needed? A new beginning. To go out on her own, find her own strength. To get away from Lucy’s lavish breakfasts, at the very least, for the sake of her increasingly tight professional wardrobe.
Eighties music blasted through the radio as Rose drove on, under the branches of the looming trees in Moran State Park, through the sleepy town of Eastsound, and on to the little airport where the small prop plane awaited its passengers.
Rose was one of four flying out that morning, and the pilot was inside the airport. It was a casual scene, with him leaning against the counter and eating a donut, laughing about a recent incident where the sheriff’s deputies were dispatched to catch a loose pair of baby goats.
“The goats led them to a stolen golf cart,” the pilot said. “I think they should be made into honorary deputies.”
Rose smiled to herself. The small-town squabbles were her favorite. She’d spent the last eight years in San Francisco, and while she thought she’d miss the bustle of the city, it had yet to hit her.
At least, if she worked in Seattle, she could still visit on the weekends. That’s what she told herself as they boarded the plane, the sun cracking the horizon. She repeated it as they took off, the islands scattered beneath them, dotted with green trees and kissed by the golden morning light.
They landed in Seattle early, leaving Rose five hours to kill before her interview. She wandered to Pike Place Market, determined to resist buying any snacks and wishing she’d brought her camera so she could take pictures.
There were rows upon rows of flowers in every color, yellow and red and blue and white. Some of the stalls were open, some not, and the tourists hadn’t yet filled the space with their excitement.
Rose managed to make it an hour and a half before wandering into a French bakery and buying a bag of chouquettes, the delicate little puffs of dough so delightfully covered in sugar. She decided to bring half home to share, and half could be her treat for interview day.
By eleven, she was anxious to get to the building where the interview would take place. Sure, she’d be two hours early, but she could check in, get past security, and read a book somewhere.
It took thirty minutes to get there, and stepping into the lobby of the high rise gave her a jolt of excitement. People walked quickly, talking to one another, on their phones, or with their arms stacked with coffee or boxes.
Rose walked up to the security desk and waited in line for thirteen minutes – again grateful she’d come early – before getting to the front and presenting her ID to the security guard.
The man’s eyes popped a little when he saw her name. “I got a call they were waiting for you,” he said, standing from his seat. “Come with me. I’ll take you up.”
How had she kept them waiting? She was still an hour early.
