Page 67 of Bayside Heat
“Kind of. I didn’t have much growing up, and I always craved the basic things in life—a family unit, a decorated bedroom, cute school supplies like the other kids had. My mom was never around, and my sister, Chloe, and I took care of each other. We created our family with friends and their parents, and we found ways to fit in. When I realized I couldn’t buy nice things, I began changing everything I could get my hands on, making it special. Making it my own. As a kid it was bedazzling a notebook, painting my room, or writing on my shorts to start a trend instead of following one. I worked as a teenager, scraped together every penny, budgeted it out, came up with plans months ahead of time to make sure I had a dress for the prom and all that silly stuff that seemed so vital back then. And since I couldn’t buy things to decorate, I lived vicariously through my friends and their families when they redecorated rooms in their houses. One day it all came together and clicked. I realized I had vision, and I liked the nuts and bolts of bringing things to life.”
They ordered sandwiches to go, and she told him about working with Drake to open the music stores and the upcoming grand-opening celebration.
On their way out of the café, he said, “You do realize that this is a whole different world, right? You’ll get clients that you have full control over, but you’ll have a lot of Muriel Youngers, too. But don’t worry. You’re just starting out here. Those things you love might change.”
“No, they won’t. I know where my heart lies. In all the years since I started college, I’ve never once been bored or become disenchanted with what I do.”
They climbed into the cab and he said, “Then why did you leave your last company?”
“Bayside Resort? Because I helped them set up the entire resort from scratch, from the billing to marketing strategies. We designed every office, every cottage, every room. There was nothing left for me to do except help run the day-to-day operations. I wasn’t bored. I worked with good friends I’ve known forever, and I met new people all the time. But it was time for me to achieve my own success.”
“And you think this is it? Working for KHB?”
“I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “It’s too early to tell, but parts of it, maybe. What about you?”
“This is a step in a ladder for me. I’m thirty-one years old.”
“Me too,” she said.
“Really? And you haven’t outgrown your cookie habit?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’ll never outgrow that.”
“Good. Some things should always be part of who you are. For me, it’s family. I know what I want to end up with. A wife who understands marriage won’t always be easy, because the last thing I need is a diva who has no idea what being a family really means, more reasonable hours, and—like everyone else—something of my own.”
“Laura said the last two senior designers left for bigger, better opportunities. Is this a stopover for everyone? Is that why it feels like something’s missing?” She didn’t even realize she’d nailed down her feelings to something being missing until just then. She’d never felt like something was missing at the resort. Her need to move on was driven by her job, the one she’d been hired to do, being completed. She’d readied the resort for someone else to walk in and run the areas she’d set up and managed. But had she felt complete for so long there because of Drake? Because of her friends?
“Until you own your own business, I think everything is a stepping-stone.”
“I guess that’s true.” Wasn’t everything in life a stepping-stone to something? Like school was to a career and dating was to marriage?
“My guess is the reason it feels like something’s missing is because you’re looking for small-town friendships, loyalty, and comforts in the big city. Like I said, that might change. I’ve seen good people like you become hardened, disloyal, and impersonal in a matter of months.”
“How did you escape it? You seem pretty down-to-earth.”
“I keep my eyes on the prize. I may not know what that prize is right now, but I have faith in myself. I know one day my future will become clear. My small-town roots have kept me grounded. I might want more professionally, but the day I walk out the doors of KHB for the last time, it’s not going to be as a lesser man.”
