Forty and Fighting Dirty

Chapter 1 Piper

ONE

PIPER

The first day of 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, many questions 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 had landed 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 wriggled out 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 get the 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 a broad, 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.

Landing the job for Baldwin Consulting was everything I’d dreamed about, and more. It was my ticket out of my old town and away from my ex-husband. It was a lifeline for my boys—and myself. It was a challenge, and one I couldn’t wait to embrace.

As a ghost of a smile tugged at my lips, I pushed open the coffee shop door and unzipped the top of my jacket.

Sliding in line behind an older woman, I glanced at the menu above the registers and inhaled a deep breath of coffee-scented air.

A grinder whirred and a barista banged a jug of steamed milk on the counter.

My spine straightened slightly as my shoulders relaxed.

Yes, coffee would help. And maybe one of those blueberry muffins with the crystalline sugar sprinkled on top.

I was jittery this morning; maybe my blood sugar was low.

Either way, it couldn’t hurt to taste-test, could it?

And there was only one blueberry muffin left in the display case.

If no one bought it by the time it was my turn to order, it was a sure sign that I was meant to have it.

Shuffling along in line, I listened to the murmur of the bustling patrons, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the clinking of utensils against ceramic plates.

This wasn’t the artsy, eclectic coffee shop I’d loved in Heart’s Cove, where my sister Georgia lived, but it had a down-to-earth honesty that I’d come to expect from my new town.

Nestled in the mountains of Colorado, the town of Lovers Peak had been named after the tallest mountain that caught the fading light of the sun every evening, its sheer face cast daily in orange and purple and gold.

The town was populated by hardworking folk, supplemented with a healthy stream of ranchers and farmers blowing through every now and again.

And, from what I heard, when the ski season started, tourists would fill every available bed to swell the town’s population to triple its normal size.

A good place to raise kids, I’d been told.

A good place to start over.

The baristas worked quickly, but the wait still stretched.

I glanced at my watch and bit my lip. It was eight forty-one.

It had taken me just under ten minutes to drive here from the office, which meant I was cutting it pretty close.

But the only people ahead of me in line were the old woman directly in front of me and a man with a face that betrayed decades of hard work in the sun and wind.

I had time. Besides, I wanted that muffin.