Chapter 4
Cecily
I ’m not a pushover. I’m not some spineless twit waiting to be rescued by other people.
One, I’m glad he recognized it and reminded me of it.
Two, I’m fucking pissed at myself for forgetting it.
The thing is, you can only take so many hits before getting back up stops being just stubbornness and starts being idiocy.
And I kind of hit that point when I lost my job, when I got denied unemployment benefits, when I couldn’t make my credit card payment, when I couldn’t make my mortgage payment, when I had to pick and choose whether to have groceries or a much needed oil change for my car.
I’ve been a responsible adult since I was eighteen years old.
I had to be. I’d never tell Quinn this, but after our little stunt of running off and getting married, my dad—even with the annulment that apparently never was—still washed his hands of me.
I paid my way through school. I did the renovations on my house.
I did it all on my own. Because I could. No. Because I can.
Maybe it’s seeing Quinn, but something has changed in me. Some spark of that girl that I used to be, the one who’d stare the devil in the face and fucking dare him to make a move, has come back to me.
First stop, the unemployment office.
Getting out of my car, I walk in and see Randa Cooper sitting behind the desk. She’s not filing her nails like she did through the entirety of our senior English class. Nope. She’s doing the modern-day equivalent and scrolling through her phone.
“Do you have an appointment, Cecily?”
“No. But I’m more than willing to wait,” I tell her, taking the seat directly across from her desk. I sit up straight in my chair and lock my eyes on her. I’m not going to budge.
Six minutes into the ten minutes I’d betted on, she caves. “Let me see if Mr. Mattingly can help you.”
“Mattingly? Not Davis?”
Her lips purse. “Ms. Davis retired… unexpectedly.”
“Retired?”
Randa leans across the desk and whispers theatrically, “She got fired! Apparently, she’d issued unemployment benefits to a few of her family members back during lockdown…
and kept on sending them payments even after they’d gone back to work.
It’s those Social Security taxes that tripped her up.
Charlie got a legit job and started paying them. ”
Charlie Davis got a legit job? Randa might as well have said the moon was made of cheese. “No shit?”
She nods, even as she’s tapping out a message on her keyboard.
The thing about Jeannie Davis is not a surprise.
A lot of employees of our unemployment program have unexpectedly retired courtesy of them helping themselves to some extra benefits during the COVID lockdown.
I’d long suspected she was one of them. I smile a little at that.
It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving wretch of a human being.
“Miss Hollingsworth?”
I look up to see the mysterious Mr. Mattingly standing in the doorway of one of the offices, so I get to my feet. “Yes.”
“Normally we require an appointment for in-person meetings, but I’ve had a cancellation. Please come in.”
I follow him into the office, and for the first time in a good long while, I have some hope.
Forty-five minutes later, he’s shaking his head. “I don’t understand this. There is no actual foundation for your benefits to have been denied. How did this happen?”
“You’re not from here,” I tell him gently. “And there are things about small towns that are great and things that aren’t. Everyone is connected… and it so happens that the person I reported to the police for driving under the influence was the nephew—by marriage—of your predecessor.”
He’s still shaking his head, his thinning hair swaying with the motion.
“I’ve never seen such an ethical breach, Miss Hollingsworth.
Had Ms. Davis not retired, I would be reporting this…
I can approve you today and you will begin receiving benefits at the end of next week.
If you wish to pursue backpay for the weeks you were denied?—”
“I’ve kicked enough hornet’s nests for one day. What I really need, Mr. Mattingly, is help finding a job. I am perfectly willing to commute to Lexington or Louisville if I have to. My preference would be something closer to home, simply because the expense of commuting is prohibitive right now.”
“If I hear of anything, Miss Hollingsworth, I will certainly forward that information to you,” he said, getting to his feet. “Again, I must apologize for the terrible miscarriage of duty that resulted in your being here today.”
This poor man is not going to last long around here. The good ol’ boy system that’s in place will make his very literal and rule-bound brain explode. “Thank you, Mr. Mattingly. You’ve been beyond helpful. I hope you have a wonderful afternoon.”
I leave the office and I want to do a little celebratory dance as I make my way to my car.
And I would, but for one thing. Jenna Stevens is parked across the street leaning against the driver’s side door with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face.
She’s watching me with all the venom she can muster. Which is a lot.
And suddenly, I’ve hit my limit. I take off, marching straight toward her. “You wanna go, Jenna? We’ll fucking go. Right here and right now. I’m already unemployed. I don’t have a damn thing to lose.”
I’m halfway across the street when she apparently realizes I’m dead-ass serious and slips behind the wheel. She peels out, just dust and the echo of squealing tires in her wake. And me? I feel good. Okay, so maybe I made a little spectacle of myself. But I’m not sorry. Sorry hasn’t gotten me shit.
So I hop in my car and head home, stopping along the way to splurge on a piece of cake from Sally’s and a bottle of cheap wine.
And when I pull up in front of my house, Quinn’s truck is already there.
And the thing I’m more excited about than the potential of actual income, of standing up for myself and watching Jenna Stevens bail like a rat from a sinking ship…
it’s telling him. Telling him that I’m back. I’m me. And he’s the cause of it.
“Cecily, you are in deep shit,” I whisper to myself. But it doesn’t dim the excitement. Not even a little.