Page 1 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
ONE
PIPER
The first dayof my new job loomed ahead like a hulking beast. Spending almost a decade out of the workforce had dinged my confidence something awful, especially after the many, many,manyquestions I’d faced in interviews asking to explain the gap in my resume. Parenting my two sons had been the hardest and most rewarding thing I’d ever done—but the people on the other side of the conference table never seemed to appreciate the work it had taken. Young men wearing too much cologne sprayed over their ill-fitting suits hummed when I explained the gap in my work history, and I bit my tongue again and again to keep myself from demanding to know how they’d gotten here, and if it was on the backs of their own mothers’ sacrifices.
But I was in a gorgeous new town, and stable employment shimmered in front of me like a mirage. I’d spent twenty-two hours putting together the portfolio of design concepts that hadlanded me the job. I was the new interior designer for a refurbished ski lodge, stepping in to fill the shoes of the design firm who had walked off the job at the eleventh hour.
I couldn’t quite believe that it would be my new reality, especially after a divorce and a drawn-out custody battle. Maybe, just maybe, life was about to get easier.
Ha. Not likely.
“Mo-om!” my youngest, Alec, called from the back seat. “Nate kicked me.”
“Nate, don’t kick your brother.”
“Alec kicked me first!”
“Alec, don’t kick your brother,” I repeated, squinting at the street names while my GPS yelled at me to make a U-turn, then changed its mind and rerouted me straight, then glitched out and flicked between the two options. A tree branch trembling with orange and red leaves obscured the nearest street sign, and I had to inch forward far enough that a car coming down the cross street honked at me.
“Are we going to be late for school again?” Nate asked.
“No,” I replied, turning off the GPS and deciding to trust my rusty old brain to get me to their school. A construction detour had appeared overnight, and I wasn’t familiar enough with the town of Lovers Peak, Colorado, to know exactly where I was. But just up ahead there was a familiar corner store, and I knew that the next street was the street the school was on.
Hiding my relief, I made the turns, then slid into the school drop-off line. Then it was the daily, familiar chaos of getting my boys’ things out of the car, putting their backpacks on their backs, and kissing the tops of their heads before they wriggledout of my grasp and ran toward the school. Forcing a smile as I waved at a familiar mom, I got back behind the wheel of my car and blew out a breath.
The boys were adapting to the move better than I was. It was the end of September, and they were entering their fourth week at Lovers Peak Elementary. Alec was in first grade, and Nate was in third. They adored their teachers and already had invitations to three classmates’ birthday parties.
I, on the other hand, gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands as I thought of the day that stretched ahead of me.
First day at the new job after nearly a decade of childrearing and homemaking.
Well, I’d tried to make a home in those years. Apparently, my ex hadn’t gotten the memo. Nine years later, I was picking up the scraps of my life and my career while my ex, Jacob, thrived at the peak of his.
Shaking off my bitterness, I drove across town toward the project office where I’d be working. The building was all glass and steel, standing three stories high at the edge of the small town that was our new home. I gripped my steering wheel and peered out the windshield, noting the dark windows and the ones already lit from within. Someone was at work already; all I had to do was take my key out of the ignition, get out of my car, and once again become a productive member of society.
But as my fingers hovered next to my dangling key chain, I lost my nerve.
Mila, the administrator who had been my main point of contact so far, had told me to drop by around nine o’clock to getthe day started. I appreciated the flexibility, since I wanted to give the kids time to adjust to their new school routine, but a familiar little gremlin in my brain started gnawing at my confidence.
Because I was early.
And being early was as bad as being late, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to get there and find the doors locked. And if they weren’t locked, I didn’t want Mila to feel pressured to find my paperwork and get me organized with a new desk when she had only just walked through the door. I wanted to arrive at nine o’clock on the dot, feeling calm and collected, so I could make a good impression.
Doing a loop around the building, I studied the parking lot and found it about a quarter full. When I circled back to the front of the building, a company pickup truck turned out of the lot, a rugged-looking older man at the wheel. He turned in the direction of the worksite, which was nestled against the slope of a nearby mountain.
My heart gave a nervous leap. I knew I probably should park the car and walk in, but ten years of self-doubt rose up behind me like a tsunami. A decade ago, it had been merely a ripple in my consciousness. Now, the self-doubt was so big I had to keep moving before it crushed me.
It was just before eight thirty, so I had time to stop off at a café I’d noticed on the way here. Coffee would settle my nerves. Probably. Maybe.
I’d get myself a nice hot drink, have a few bracing sips, and then drive back to the office and try again. By that point I’d be exactly on time, and Mila would be ready for me. I’d have abroad, confident smile on my face, and everyone would think they’d made a good decision by hiring me.
Plan made, I headed for the busy coffee shop tucked down a side street I’d noticed on the drive over. After parking a block away, I headed toward the bustling shop, inhaling the scent of autumn.
My lungs were full of clean, crisp Colorado air. The mountains around us were capped in white, and the locals told me it wouldn’t be long before we hunkered down for winter. I could almost smell snow on the wind, even though it was early in the season and the trees still clung to their changing leaves. The air tasted as fresh as my new beginning.
As the thought floated through me, I let myself believe it. True, I hadn’t had a “real job” in years. I was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? But I was qualified, and I knew what I was capable of achieving.
I’d just finished designing my sister Georgia’s new art gallery, and she’d been thrilled with my work. Interior design had always been a special interest of mine, and even in the years that I’d been at home with my children, I’d kept up my skills with various classes and mock projects—despite Jacob’s constant griping about my wasting my time. Getting into commercial design had been a strategic move on my part, and I was about to see all my hard work pay off.
