Chapter 3
The following day, I swung by Megan’s house on the way to the coffee shop.
She lived in the childhood home she’d inherited from her parents.
It was situated in an older suburb that hadn’t yet been gentrified and where the lower property values allowed for larger square footage than comparable neighborhoods.
This had given her the flexibility to turn a den and spare bedroom into office space for the two young assistants she’d brought on to help with the workload now that the business was really taking off.
But most of the time, they all congregated in the large, cozy kitchen.
“Come on in,” Megan said, escorting me inside with the boxes of pastries. She took them from my arms and laid them out on the kitchen counter. “Han’s already left to open the Drip and my girls aren’t in yet.”
The house wasn’t fancy—Megan was still focused on investing everything in the growth and success of Culinary Connection.
But, despite the old paint and dented baseboards, she kept the place immaculate and always had cute little touches dotted about, like fresh flowers and seasonally appropriate kitchen towels on display.
Megan poured me a cup of coffee and dug into the croissants as we sat at her dining-room table.
“Lay it on me,” I said, eager to hear the details of this mysterious job. “What’s the gig?”
“Hello to you too,” she scoffed playfully.
Megan had short blond hair that had grown back a few shades darker than Hannah’s after the chemo and radiation treatments.
Once she’d felt well enough to put away the robes and pajamas, she always dressed like she was going into a real corporate office, even if she wasn’t leaving the house.
Today she was wearing a crisp, collared shirt and blazer, with gold stud earrings.
The truth was, if Hannah was my little sister, then Megan was my big sister.
I’d lost my mom years ago to Huntington’s disease and I’d since found some of the maternal nurturing I missed so dearly in Megan.
It was a relationship between the three of us that I had come to really rely on these last few years.
“Don’t get too excited, I don’t know if this is going to be something that you’re interested in. It’s an unconventional request.”
“Color me cautiously intrigued.”
Megan didn’t do out-of-the-box with her company. Her placements were always straightforward, fair and the consistency of her five-star reviews were what kept industry leaders knocking on her door.
“I’ll warn you, I haven’t had time to investigate this job fully yet, as it literally came in last night, right before I texted you.”
“Okay . . .” My trepidation grew. I imagined the worst.
Megan took a bite of her croissant and moaned with pleasure. She quickly took another while I waited impatiently for the details.
“First of all, they need someone who can start immediately,” she said.
Oh. I had to give the coffee shop ample notice. They had been good to me for years and I didn’t want to screw the owner over, no matter how great this potential gig was.
“How soon is soon?”
Megan washed down her croissant with a sip of coffee. “She asked if tomorrow was an option.”
“Tomorrow?” I yelped, laughing as I waited for her to say it was a joke. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I am not. Full disclosure . . .”
My stomach dropped.
“They’re a tad high maintenance,” Megan warned.
I was already pulling up Google on my phone. “What’s the client’s name?”
She swallowed another greedy bite of croissant and got up to grab herself another one. “It’s the Hawthorne family and you’ll need to sign an NDA .”
“An NDA ?” My heart beat a little faster.
“Standard practice with a client in this income bracket,” Megan told me. She came back to sit at the table. “The last girl quit in forty-eight hours after a screaming match because of an underbaked soufflé.”
I laughed nervously. “What exactly are they looking for?”
“A chalet girl.”
“A what?”
“I know, I had to look it up,” she said. “The term is a throwback from the sixties, but it’s sort of like a private chef, party planner and ski bunny all rolled into one.”
“They’re not going to make me put that on a name tag, are they?”
Megan snorted. “Did I mention that the pay is good?”
“You did, but tell me more.”
“It’s really good.”
“Like specifically, how good?” Hopefulness crept into my voice.
“Based on what you told me you’d need for London, it would take care of your tuition and then some. I’ve asked for a complete salary package and we’ll make sure the contract is ironclad, just in case. I should have it all by this afternoon. It would just be for the season. Three months, tops.”
My heart swelled in my chest. Three months.
I could learn to tolerate just about anything for three months.
Demanding clients and eccentric tastes didn’t worry me.
I was good at putting on a brave face. But, I hesitated at the thought of leaving the coffee shop high and dry.
It felt a little like absconding in the middle of the night.
Then again, this was my future. The key to unlocking my dreams. I couldn’t live my life for everyone else, or I’d never get off this runaway merry-go-round with no end in sight.
Megan reached across the table, placing her hand on mine. “This is an amazing opportunity for you, Elle. Impress them, which I know you can do, and your networking opportunities will blow wide open. The sky’s the limit. Worth tolerating a couple of red flags, in my professional opinion.”
London and all her opportunities called to me. It wasn’t something I could ignore.
“Let me know as soon as you get the info,” I said. “I’m in.”
The following afternoon, we were standing in the parking lot saying goodbye.
“Keep me posted when you get there,” Megan said as she arranged my suitcases in the trunk of my car outside my apartment.
Hannah pushed a scraper over my windshield in an attempt to clear the lightly falling snow. A storm was headed in the same direction as me and I had to get on the road now if I wanted to beat it to Maplewood Creek.
“I’ll text you both when I arrive,” I promised, pulling Megan into a hug. “Thanks again for everything you did. I’m so grateful.”
Megan had managed to find a replacement to take over my role at The Denver Drip, which was a huge help to the owner. She had also negotiated with the Hawthornes to get me a signing bonus because of the short notice for the job, enough to finance my travel and visa applications for London.
“Remember what I said,” Megan told me, adjusting her scarf against the cold. “If there’s anything untoward, you call me immediately.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I laughed, nervous at the warning. It was a little late for second thoughts.
“Just in case. You have a contingency clause in the contract if Mrs. Hawthorne turns out to be as difficult as the last girl said.”
“Stop, Mom,” Hannah pleaded. “You’re freaking her out. It’s going to be great!”
“Absolutely,” I said, willing my voice to sound confident and not as shaky as I felt. I would manifest this if it was the last thing I did.
“You will be amazing,” Megan said, holding out her arms for a hug. “Careful on the roads, alright?”
I gave her a tight squeeze in return. “Will do. Thank you again.”
“My turn!” Hannah slammed into me as soon as Megan and I released our hug, nearly knocking the wind from my chest. “I’ll miss you. Call and tell me all about it. I want to hear everything, okay?”
“I promise,” I laughed, blowing her hair from my face as a gust of wind enveloped us.
Hannah squeezed tighter and wouldn’t let go. “And take pictures. Lots of pictures. I want to see this chalet.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh!” She abruptly pulled away to grab a Thermos from Megan’s car and handed it to me. “Almost forgot. You’ll need caffeine for the road.”
“Take care of each other, okay? And try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”
Hannah smiled angelically. “No promises.”
When there was nothing left but stalling, I got into my car and blinked back a tear or two as I waved to them both through the window. Standing arm in arm, Megan and Hannah kept waving in the rearview mirror until I pulled out of the parking lot and we couldn’t see each other anymore.
Eyes on the road ahead, I took a deep breath. I guess part of me never thought I would get this far, that’d I’d ever really find a reason to leave Denver and strike out on my own. Maplewood Creek wasn’t exactly London, but I was getting closer. One giant leap on the adventure of a lifetime.
Now I just had to convince myself I wasn’t terrified.