Samantha
SAMANTHA
I t’s early when I wake up, and waking up with nowhere to be feels liberating. It’s a new day. The first official day of trying to be a full-time interior designer. The first thing I need to do is get clients.
I haven’t exactly figured out how to do that yet. Penny put in a good word for me with some of the other realtors she knows, but so far, no calls have come in yet. I sip my coffee and take in the morning, something I’d forgotten I enjoyed doing until I went on the business trip.
My stomach tightens in knots at the memory of sitting on the deck of Chandler's family home, watching the sunset while I talked to penny on the phone. Enough about Chandler and his ridiculously sexy, lying face.
I grab my laptop and open it up. I type in "SJ interiors" and hit enter. I want to check out the website that I had a web designer create for my business. A thrill goes through me when it opens on the screen. Seeing the website makes it feel real. These are the first steps. I have 2 months to make more money than I make at the accounting firm. I just wish I knew where to start. Penny didn’t take the house she looked at the other day, so, no luck there.
On the table, my phone rings, and when I look at the caller ID, it's a number I don’t recognize. I almost don’t answer it, but something tells me that I should.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Jensen with SJ Interiors?”
“Yes," I say, my heart pounding with excitement. “Yes, this is Sam. How can I help you?”
“My name is Emma. I was calling because I saw your flyer and took a look at your website. I was wondering if I could book an appointment. I inherited a bookstore not too long ago and," she pauses for a moment. “It needs a lot of work. I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming by to check it out.”
I can’t contain the excitement in my voice when I say. “Yes! Yes, of course! What’s the location?”
She gives me the address, and my heart sinks. “North Carolina?”
“Yes.”
I pause. North Carolina? Why the hell would someone be calling me from North Carolina for an interior design job?
“Oh," I say. “Okay. I’m based in Florida," I say. She doesn’t respond. I think about it for a moment. I shouldn’t pass this up. It is my first gig. And I get to travel? Even if it is back in Chandler's hometown, I just can't let this opportunity pass.
“You know what, sure, I’d be happy to. When do you need me?”
“Would next week work for you?”
I smile. “Next week is perfect.”
When we hang up, I see I have three text messages, all of them for new gigs in North Carolina. I respond to the messages, setting up appointments to assess the two houses and another business for next week. I set my phone down and let out a contented sigh. I wonder how these people got my information. There’s only one person I know who would give out my information to the small town that very obviously needed a lot of work. And I’ll need to pay him a little visit during my trip.
Being back in North Carolina makes my heart ache. I felt it as soon as the plane landed. Memories of me and Chandler on the work trip haunt me while I drive down the road to the bookstore to meet with my first client, Emma. I wonder what he’s doing now. Guilt settles in my stomach at the thought of him. I didn’t even give him the time of day after what happened at the work party. I was so angry, so hurt, that I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. Maybe I should have let him explain. While I drive toward the bookstore, I pass the thrift store he and I went to, and my chest squeezes. I love this little town, and Chandler made me fall in love with it, even if he thought he was an outcast. When I get to the bookstore, I’m greeted by a woman in a sundress with dark hair and sunglasses and a warm, welcoming smile.
“Hello, I’m Emma. I’m so glad you could make it!”
“I’m glad you called," I say, and look up at the building in front of me.
“There was a small fire a few years back, so there are some structural issues that need to be taken care of. It’s an old building," she says and looks up at the building. “It was my great-grandmother's bookstore, but she passed a few months ago and left it to me. I have a great vision for this place that I can go over with you.”
The building looks like it might be salvageable. There are overgrown weeds in the front, and the windows are boarded up, but the red brick gives it char on the outside. I can already tell that this is going to be a huge undertaking, but I’m definitely up for the challenge and show what I can do.
“Shall we have a look inside?”
She nods, "Yes, we may.”
The space isn’t as bad as I expected. From the looks of it, most of the fire occurred at the back of the building downstairs. it’s covered in soot. A carpenter will be needed, but it can be fixed. The wood floors are dark, and to the left, the bookshelves look like they’d fall over if you breathed too hard.
“It needs a lot of work, but the budget isn’t really an issue.” She says as we walk through.
“No problem," I say, smiling. I wonder how she heard about my services. I have a feeling I already know, but I want to be sure. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you hear about me?”
“Oh," she says. “My friend Cheyenne. She said she knew you. I told her about needing to fix up the bookstore and how overwhelmed I was with everything, being a single parent and all. She gave me your business card.”
Well, that confirms my suspicions. There’s no way Cheyenne would have gotten hold of my cards if it wasn’t for her brother.
“Well," I say, replacing my frown with a smile. I feel confident, I feel good. It’s finally happening! “I’m glad you called. I’m excited to see what kind of vision you have for this place. I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”
I’m going to help Emma make this the best damn bookstore this town has ever seen.
“There’s a coffee shop down the road if you want to make time to go over everything.”
“That would be great! Would tomorrow morning be okay? Around 9?”
“Sounds like a plan! ”
With my first client under my belt, I leave, knowing that anything is possible. Sometimes, things just need time to fall into place. It’s just the confidence boost I needed to have a conversation with Chandler. I sit in my car outside of the bookstore, and dial his number. The butterflies in my stomach swirl each time it rings. I get his voicemail.
“Hey, this is Chandler. Leave a message. Better yet, text me, I might actually read it.”
He really needs to change that. Would it be crazy of me to drive to his house? I guess it wouldn’t be any crazier than him giving out all of my business information to the entire town. Hopefully, I can remember how to get there.