Page 2 of Saved By Noel
Beau squeezes my shoulder in acknowledgment before dropping his hand.
“When do you leave? Once the house sells?” I ask.
His face turns sheepish as he answers. “Actually, we’ll likely be gone before the house sells. Who knows how long that will take? We’ve already found a house in Joplin to rent along with Abby’s parents while we wait for the houses here to sell. I start my new job in three weeks, so we’ll be moving the week after next.”
I swallow hard and rub my hand along my bearded jaw, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “I’m sorry for being a jerk about you tricking me into installing the new sink. If there’s anything else I can do to help out these next couple weeks, let me know.”
I give Beau a quick clap on the back to avoid him trying to hug me. I need to get out of this house before my ability to mask my emotions falters. Beau may be one of the two closest people in my life, but I still don’t want him seeing how much it’s tearing me apart that he’s leaving.
Stowing my tool box and gear in the back of my truck, I climb inside and drive away as quickly as possible. Panic bludgeons me on the short drive home.
Beau is leaving.
So many people are leaving.
Who will be next?
This town is all I know.
This can’t be happening.
Chapter three
Clara
“Tell me you said no.”
I expertly avoid making eye contact with Madison, my coworker and best friend. After all, my salad isn’t going to mix itself. Focused attention required.
“Clara. Tell me you said no,” she repeats more firmly while sliding my plate away from me.
I clear my throat and reach for the plate. “I will tell you I said no. . . problem.”
Madison huffs in frustration. When she pauses to pull her long brown hair into a ponytail, I know I’m in for it. She begins, “I cannot believe you. You have to draw some boundary lines at some point, Clara.”
I return to my zealous salad mixing.
“You’re the head of our department. You’re supposed to be editing everyone’s work and keeping deadlines on track. You can’t keep bailing Michael out every time he fails to manage his work-load.”
My left thumb twirls the tanzanite birthstone ring on my index finger as I chew an overly-large bite of salad. I take a longdrink of water after swallowing to further delay responding to Madison. To her credit, the unblinking glare of her brown eyes never falters throughout my stall tactics.
“But Iamkeeping the deadline on track, Mads,” I finally reply.
“By writing Michael’s article for him. Again.”
“But I enjoy writing, so what’s the harm, really?” I respond with a shrug.
“You mean other than you spending your free time doing an employee’s work for him rather than writing what youactuallywant to write?” Madison counters. She takes a bite of her chicken salad sandwich but continues staring me down as she chews.
“I couldn’t just say no—Michael’s had a rough couple of weeks with his girlfriend, and his landlord is being difficult, plus that carpal tunnel keeps flaring up. It’s not like it will take me long to whip out an article about winterizing your home and lawn. Chances are, it will take me less time to write it myself than to edit his version,” I list out quickly, justifying myself. Madison simply rolls her eyes.
It’s exactly the type of article I used to pump out in bulk on a weekly basis when I started working for WritInc straight out of college. With a bachelor’s in English but no clear career direction after graduating, I fell into copywriting newsletter content for WritInc’s clients. Customers include businesses ranging from retirement communities to real estate offices to insurance companies. And everything in between.
All in all, I can’t complain about my job. I’ve managed to work my way up to overseeing the writing department. Now my primary duties involve assigning content to writers and copyediting their work before it moves to the graphic design team. Fewer creative tasks with a side of management headaches, but slightly more pay. Still a win, I think? WritInc is also where I met Madison, and that’s definitely a win.
She’s not only my work bestie, but my best-bestie, even if I’m technically her boss. Unfortunately, that means she has no problem telling me when I’m doing my job wrong, because she knows I’d never seriously reprimand her—or anyone, for that matter. Her attention to detail as the final proofreader also means she misses nothing regarding my team management . . . challenges.
“You do realize that he’s probably searching ‘excuses for missing work’ and feeding you the responses every month, right?” Madison says. I play with my salad rather than answering. “You cannot let him do this again next month, okay, Clara? Hold him to the expectations and set boundaries.”
