Chapter 1 #3
That’s true, but I don’t want to agree with him, so I just start shaking my head in denial and despair.
This was supposed to be easy, supposed to work, supposed to get me back where I belong.
I can barely think straight now, feeling sorry for myself as I whine, “I’m so tired of illness and sympathy and doctors.
I’m tired of working through it and being patient, tired of being a patient.
And I’m so tired of my house right now. I need a change of scenery. I need a change of pace.”
I immediately regret that last bit of randomness, though, when he latches on to it to say, “Hey, that gives me a great idea!”
Whatever it is, I already hate it. I say nothing.
Which he takes as his cue to keep talking. “Go to my grandma’s cottage down in Kentucky. After she died, we decided to keep it in the family as a place for quiet R and R weekends. It’s a cute little house, next to a lake. A perfect place for getting away from it all.”
I’m flabbergasted by this out-of-the-blue suggestion. I remember when his grandma passed away a couple of years ago, but he never mentioned the house. I don’t think he went there much, even when she was alive. “But I’m wanting to get back to it all,” I remind him. “Not get away.”
“Trust me,” he insists. “You’ll love it there.
And no one has plans to use it this summer.
And you keep saying you want to do that big kitchen remodel, but you can’t stand the idea of coming home to workmen and dust for two or three months.
Schedule that while you’re gone. Sydney or I can drop by to check in once a week, make sure it’s going okay.
By the end of the summer, you’ll be fully revived and so will your kitchen. ”
When I don’t answer, running out of mental energy at this point, he stoops down, right across the desk from me, putting us at eye level as he promises, “It won’t be this way forever. And I’ll be here looking out for your best interests. You know that. Just give it a little time.”
I swallow the lump that’s somehow snuck into my throat. “Are you sure?” My voice suddenly sounds small. Not at all like Jessica Fox, WRTB 11. “Sure it’s just a time thing?”
It’s at least slightly reassuring when his nod comes without hesitation. “If you’re worried about Tiffany, her lack of experience shows. And you’re loved by the viewers. Management understands that.”
I take that in and try to let it bolster me, but it doesn’t. My chest has gone tight, and my heart has sunk. I don’t want to get on board with this giving-it-time plan, at all—I just want my life back. But what choice do I have?
So I attempt to play devil’s advocate with myself.
The truth is ... sometimes I am a little tired. And the job can be demanding.
I’ve been watching the news, and I know that Tiffany—who I trained—probably appreciates the airtime, a chance to get some footing behind the desk and something on her résumé that might be a springboard for her elsewhere.
And I can do the kitchen remodel if I actually go away for a while. I already have everything picked out, and I’d only have to make a few calls to get it organized. I’ve been putting it off for literally years.
“So what do you think? Free vacation in the mountains? A little more recharge time? Am I getting anywhere here?” His eyes look as sad as I feel right now.
And I’m trying my damnedest to regroup. A big part of me wants to just collapse into a heap, but I don’t do that because it’s not who I am.
I’m Jessica Fox, strong but relatable female news anchor with a killer wardrobe.
Nothing fazes me. Not even cancer. That’s how the world sees me—and how I see myself. One tough cookie.
So even in this moment, I don’t want to be any less than that. I won’t let myself.
The regrouping efforts pay off. “Well,” I begin slowly, feeling like the most admirable team player ever born, “you say that this cute little cottage is next to a lake?”
For the first time since I literally flipped my wig, Kevin’s eyes brighten, and he appears to relax as he rises back up and sits on the edge of the desk sideways, looking down at me.
“The lake is gorgeous,” he promises me. “There’s a big back porch with an awning and rocking chairs, perfect for reading or just watching the sunset.
You can see the stars in a way you can’t from the city, the shade trees dotting the yard keep it cool when it’s hot out, and there’s even a winery across the lake. ”
I raise my eyebrows and tell him simply, “You should have led with the winery, Kev. Do you not know me at all?”
We both laugh—something that hasn’t happened since my arrival tonight—and he concludes, “Seriously, it’s the perfect getaway spot for soaking up nature, not far from a cute little country town tucked into the mountains.”
Okay, I have to admit, he’s making it sound pretty idyllic and appealing.
I mean, if you don’t count the fact that I actually grew up in a small town and moved to the city because I wanted to be around people and excitement.
But maybe it won’t be terrible to go back to that kind of existence—for just a little while.
“What’s the name of the town?” I ask.
And he tells me, “It’s called Lost and Found.”