3. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Jemima
“This time in three weeks, you’ll be off to Alaska,” I say to Mom, forcing a smile and ignoring the way my stomach twists into knots.
“Can you believe it,” she replies. “I’ve already packed my sequins and faux furs. You can’t cruise to Alaska without looking fabulous!”
“Probably because you gave yourself no time,” I say with a laugh, though it sounds a bit unconvincing, even to my own ears.
“Oh, darling, spontaneity is the spice of life! I’ve spent too many years planning everything down to the last napkin fold. Now, I’m all about last-minute thrills!”
As we approach the office doors, my heart is in my throat. I haven’t been here for many years, and Mom said a lot has changed since then. The doors are large and the frosted glass panels give nothing away to what lies behind them. Mom pushes the door open with a squeak, and we step inside. The office space is sparse, with simple white walls, harsh fluorescent lighting, and basic wooden desks that have seen better days. As I take a deep breath, the air smells faintly of old paper and something I can’t put my finger on. A makeover is definitely overdue.
We continue walking, our footsteps echoing through the empty hallway, until Mom suddenly stops at the front desk. “Molly, this is my daughter Jemima,” Mom introduces me to a woman with platinum-blond hair that shines under the light, her roots a darker color. The sight pulls my attention to my own reflection in the glass nearby. I’m in need of a color, as you can now see pieces of gray peeking through my brown hair.
Molly sits in her office chair, her fingers tapping on the computer as she looks up with a curious smile. Her eyes are a bright blue and stand out against her hair. I walk around her desk, extending my hand. “Call me Jem,” I say with a smile.
“Nice to meet you,” Molly replies, slipping her hand in mine, her grip firm and her smile warm, which instantly makes my shoulders drop away from my ears.
“Molly, I'm showing Jemima around. Do you have time to help?” Mom asks.
Molly jumps up to her feet, her movements quick and eager. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Well, Molly, here’s the scoop!” Mom announces with an over-the-top sweep of her hand, like she’s a game show host. “Jemima’s the new boss! I’m finally retiring to sip mimosas and collect postcards. Isn’t it fabulous?”
Molly’s eyes light up, her lips parting wider. “This is great news.”
Her positive energy is contagious, and I can’t help the way it ignites within me.
“Let’s give Jemima the grand tour, and then you girls can bond over all the juicy office gossip,” Mom says, then struts ahead.
As we walk, Mom explains what everything is or what used to be where. So much has changed since my dad died.
The space feels familiar yet foreign. We pause in the hallway, and Molly’s hands lace together in front of her as she speaks, her fingers twisting. “I do have to explain my situation because sometimes my life is a little chaotic.”
Mom’s eyes shine with understanding, her gaze firmly on Molly. “I’m a single mom,” Molly announces.
My eyes widen, and I shift my gaze at Mom before looking back at Molly.
“What's the look for?” Molly asks, her blue eyes narrowing at me.
“I’m a single mom too.”
Her face softens, and she steps closer as her eyes search mine. “Did your husband cheat too?”
I shake my head. Her putting herself on the line in such an innocent way makes it easy to confess. “I don’t know if mine is better or worse,” I snort. “But he was arrested for drug trafficking.”
“Well, fuck,” she says, her eyes flaring wide before she quickly covers her mouth and mumbles, “Sorry.”
I laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh that feels good to do. I haven’t laughed much in the last few months…if not longer. There’s something about Molly that makes me excited about working here. “It’s okay, I was as shocked as you.”
Dropping her hand from her mouth, she asks, “How old is your kid?”
“Chad is six. How about yours?”
“Mine’s a boy too. Hugo, and he’s four.”
Talking about Chad makes my chest swell with pride. I never had a mother’s group or friends when I had Chad. We moved when he was two, and I found it harder than I had been expecting. Butch was not a very present father because he worked a lot, and I felt lonely and defeated, never really having the time to actually focus on myself.
“This is going to be fun.” Molly rubs her hands together.
I smile. “It is.”
The sound of a door opening catches my attention. Turning, I see a man in his early fifties confidently walking in.
“Here’s Danny. You remember him, don’t you, Jemima,” Mom says, and Molly mumbles something I don’t catch before returning to her seat.
Danny strides over.
“Hi, Danny. It’s been a long time,” I say, remembering his face from years ago, only he’s rougher now. Thinning slicked-back hair, deep wrinkles etched into his skin, and much slimmer, the suit seeming to swallow him up.
“Sure has, Jem,” Danny replies with a warm smile. “You’ve grown up.”
Mom takes a step forward, her bangles jingling softly as she places a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Danny here has been my rock since your dad passed,” she says, her voice warm and full of gratitude. “I don’t know how I’d have managed without him.”
Danny waves a hand modestly. “Just doing my part.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “Dad always spoke very highly of you.”
Danny’s expression softens at the mention of Dad, but there’s a flicker of something else… disappointment, maybe?
“Your mom keeps telling me about Chord.” Danny smiles.
“Chad,” I correct gently.
“Sorry, Chad. I’m hopeless with names,” he replies, his eyes slightly red, similar to the way Butch’s looked. I shake my head. I'm just paranoid and clearly seeing things. I can’t help but have a guard up when it comes to people, especially men.
“That’s okay.”
Mom clears her throat, commanding attention. “Well, here’s the big news. Jemima’s going to take over the business.”
Danny’s eyebrows lift slightly, though he quickly recovers. “That’s…unexpected,” he says in a neutral tone. “I thought you might be selling.”
Smiling gently, Mom shakes her head. “Oh, no, darling. This business was always meant to stay in the family. And who better than my brilliant daughter to take the reins?”
“Of course,” Danny says after a pause. His voice is calm, but I catch the way his jaw tightens. “I’ll do whatever I can to help with the transition.”
His professionalism reassures me. “Thank you. I’ll need it.”
Mom claps her hands together, her bangles clashing and breaking the tension. “Alright, team! We’ve got loads to cover, but Danny, I just know you’ll be Jemima’s rock through it all. You’ve always been such a star!”
He nods, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before shifting to Mom. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”
As he walks away, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Mom gives me a reassuring pat on the back. “You’ve got this, darling,” she whispers with a wink.
I hope she’s right. The tightness in my chest eases, knowing I have their support, and that Molly and Danny will help me transition.
Mom will be here for the week to settle me in, too. Even though it sounds like she doesn’t know what’s going on. I guess there’s nothing like diving in headfirst.
A few days later, I’m walking along the sidewalk to meet with a potential new client. Molly is with me, because it's my first meeting on my own, and I feel more comfortable with her than Danny. Luckily, Danny had a meeting this morning anyway.
The breeze picks up, tugging at my beige coat and sending a shiver down my spine. Leaves swirl around our feet, and I tighten my grip on my notebook, hugging it closer to my chest for warmth.
The city around us buzzes with activity, a mix of cars, people and construction.
“I filed for a divorce,” Molly announces suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise.
“You did!” I beam. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Will you apply for one?” Molly glances at me.
“I have. The second he was arrested, I looked into it.”
She elbows me. “Not wasting a second.”
“I did it so I could change my name and Chad’s to Recaredo,” I explain. “I worry about any more of my ex's debts coming back to haunt me.”
It’s one of the reasons I have bags and dark circles under my eyes. I barely sleep four hours a night, worry robs me of sleep. I’m a walking zombie.
“I thought my ex cheating on me was bad, but I think your story takes the cake.”
I giggle, the sound surprising me. “It does, right?”
“Still doesn’t turn me off men,” she remarks with a wry smile, her lips curving up at the corners.
I do a double take. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I think it was my mistake, thinking a one-night stand would be a great father to my baby.”
“That's how you met?” I ask as I picture the scene in my mind.
“And got pregnant,” she admits with a shrug, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“Sheesh,” I mutter with a shake of my head.
“Yeah, so I just need to be sober when I date.” She laughs.
I laugh too. “And have sex.”
“Definitely. Or at least know him sober before jumping into bed with him,” she adds with a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“How are you so positive?” I ask, amazed by her resilience. She's joking and laughing, even though she’s been hurt. Meanwhile, just thinking about my situation makes my stomach harden.
“Therapy,” she says simply.
The idea of therapy hasn’t crossed my mind; I’ve been so busy since Butch’s arrest three months ago.
“Have you seen one?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
The glass building we need to enter comes into view. The modern skyscraper stands out against the older buildings around it. We slow our walking pace, then pause on the sidewalk to finish our conversation.
“Are you anti-therapy?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
“Not at all.” I blow out a breath that fogs in the cold air. “I just don’t know if I’m ready.”
She reaches into her purse to pull something out. “Take my therapist’s card for when you're ready to book an appointment.”
I take the card, staring at how worn out it is. There’s no point in making an appointment now. I don't have time. Every spare moment, I’ve been pouring over the numbers, and paperwork, scrutinizing every expense and revenue stream. The deeper I dig, the clearer it becomes…this place is drowning in debt. I have to focus on making this business profitable, because it’s sinking fast into the red.