Page 5 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
“I’ll buy two tickets, Violet,” the man said, and the elderly gentleman behind him had the nerve to pat him on the shoulder as if he’d done some sort of amazingly good deed.
The anger inside me was still so big it choked me. Violet was scratching out a handwritten ticket when I turned around to face her again, and I could feel everyone’s stare like an itch between my shoulder blades.
“I’d love a ticket,” I told her. “I’m sorry for being rude.”
Violet looked up at me with big eyes, then slid her gaze over my shoulder to the man behind me. “It’s okay. You don’t have to buy one.”
“Maybe today’s the day my luck changes,” I said, and plucked the ticket out of her grasp, swapping it for a five-dollar bill. “Thank you.”
“Oh, okay, but?—”
“I’ll still grab two,” the jerk said, handing a ten-dollar bill over.
Violet nodded, taking his money. “Yeah, sure, let me just write your name—ma’am, I need your phone number and email—um—hold on. Jess, can you get the muffin, I need to?—”
There was confused shuffling as Violet handed the raffle tickets out, I paid for my order, and the barista at the machine leaned over to give me a brown paper bag with my precious muffin inside. I thanked her but had to set the muffin down as I finished writing out my details on the little slip of paper for my raffle ticket while the line-cutter invaded my personal space to accept a steaming-hot coffee from a third worker.
That happened before I gotmycoffee, I noted, scowling.
Finally, handing the raffle ticket stub and pen back over the counter, I grabbed my muffin and shuffled sideways. When my name was called, I took my coffee and lifted my gaze, only to see the line-cutter staring right at me. He took a sip of his coffee, then lifted it in salute.
It took all my self-control not to stick out my tongue at him. Head held high, I marched out of the café and over to my car. I took a big gulp, burned theroof of my mouth, spluttered and coughed coffee all over my steering wheel, then swore.
That was when I realized I’d forgotten to grab Mila’s order. Through the windshield, I saw another couple enter the coffee shop to join the long line. It was too late to go back—and I wasn’t sure I could manage the humiliation of getting in line again—because there was no way I was cutting in front of all those people. Unlikesomepeople, I had principles.
Sighing, I turned the key in the ignition.
Today, it turned out, wouldnotbe a good day.
TWO
PIPER
The project officewas on the second and third floors of the three-story building I’d circled half an hour ago. I made my way up the stairs, clutching my brown paper muffin bag in one fist and my coffee in the other, and spotted the Baldwin Consulting logo on a glass door. The letters B and C interlocked in shades of cool, professional blue. Underneath, the words “Engineering Design and Construction” were written in a simple white font.
This was real. I’d finally found a job and moved my boys and my life across state lines; now my next chapter was about to start.
My nerves jangled. I was still rattled about the coffee shop, surprised by the strength of my reaction. Jacob used to barge through life like that all the time. And he’d get what he wanted, too. I was sosickof making myself smaller for men—but the confrontation had left me jittery and off-balance.
I took a deep breath.
So what if there’d been a jerk at the coffee shop? Today was the first day of my new job. That was exciting! I’d sacrificed a decade of my career to raise my kids, caught between exorbitant childcare fees and no job prospects in my old town. The only logical choice—as my ex-husband liked to remind me every time I told him I wanted to work again—was to stay at home with the kids.
But today, that would change. I couldn’t let some self-important man with no concept of social norms ruin that for me. Those types of people existed everywhere, and the only person whose day was ruined by his actions would be me, unless I brushed it off and moved on.
Squaring my shoulders, I gave myself a sharp nod, painted a polite smile on my face, and pushed the door open. My steps echoed on the floating laminate wood-look flooring, and my gaze was drawn to the chunky reception desk to my left. Behind the desk sat a woman wearing a white blouse with jeans. Her hair was dark blond and cut to her shoulders, and she wore tortoiseshell glasses to frame her big blue eyes.
“Are you Mila?” I asked, approaching.
“I am. Does that make you Piper Darling, who’s come bearing coffee?” A hopeful smile lit her face, which made a twist of embarrassed guilt squirm through me.
“Well,” I replied, “about that…”
“Uh-oh.”
“There was an incident,” I started. “I don’t have your coffee.”
Shedeflated slightly. “Darn. But I love incidents, so if you tell me what happened I might forgive you.”
