Chapter 3
Claire
A Sex and the City rerun is on, the volume turned down, when Joey lets herself in.
“You better catch up,” I call from the kitchen. My first martini is nearly empty where it sits next to a pile of tissues.
She scrunches her nose. “There better not be olives in mine. I hate olives.”
“Gasp!” I chuckle. “That’s because you didn’t grow up in the country club culture. Those people serve gold-plated baby bottles with a skewer of olives, darling.”
She giggles, but her face falls as she scurries around the kitchen island to hug me.
She understood the assignment and showed up in sweats.
Her hair is pulled into a topknot like mine too.
Her hair color is similar to mine, and though my eyes are a lighter shade of brown than hers, we’re often mistaken for sisters.
I always wanted someone I could share clothes with, and since she and Cam basically live out of suitcases, she leaves most of her wardrobe in my closet—with the understanding that I can wear any of it anytime I want.
Too bad I don’t fill out her shirts as well as she does.
But I suppose someone has to be the president of the Itty-Bitty Titty Committee.
“Is this vodka or gin?” she asks as she picks up the martini—sans olives—I prepared for her.
“Gin.”
“Oh shit,” she gasps. “Good thing I’m not wearing a bra. Otherwise I’d be taking it off in four sips.”
Clinking my glass against hers, I say, “Here’s to day-drinking in your twenties.”
“Here’s to shoving it up your boss’s ass. And not the fun, pegging kind.” She winks.
Before long, room service brings up a charcuterie board. The two of us pick at it while we lounge on the sectional with our martinis.
“What’s Cam up to?” I ask.
“When I left, he was pouting because I wouldn’t let him crash our boozy girls’ day.
But I think he’s going over to Ezra’s after he gets off work.
Probably to keep him company while Millie’s away.
” Eyes closed, she takes a slow sip of her drink.
“Speaking of work…” She peers at me from beneath her long lashes.
“Are we just drinking the day away?” With her glass held up, she grins.
“Because if we are, that’s totally cool.
Or did you want to talk about it and make a plan? ”
She knows me well. I love a plan. At least I think I do. My whole life has been one big plan. Prep school, med school, become a doctor. Eventually get married and have kids. The Great American Dream. Whatever the fuck that means these days.
“I’m not sure.” I take a generous swig from my glass, eyeing her over top of the rim.
“For what it’s worth, I understand why you didn’t tell anyone.”
“Right?” I slap the cushion next to me. “Thank you. It’s not that I didn’t want to take it seriously.
I just didn’t have the brain beans to deal with it at the time.
The idea of all that attention stressed me out, and med school was already almost more stress than I could handle.
I figured it would be a bigger pain to deal with it than it would be to simply drop it.
It felt easier to keep my head down, avoid Leo, and push through until the end of the semester. ”
She nods. “What makes it even worse is that there are a million women out there with the same story and thought process as you.”
“Totally.” That truth is like a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. With a sigh, I drain the rest of my martini. Then I rise to make a new one. Joey throws back the rest of hers before passing me her glass.
The common areas of the penthouse are open to one another, so we continue chatting while I’m in the kitchen.
“So… a plan?” she reminds me.
“For one, I need a new job,” I tell her. “My parents will freak when they find out I quit.”
“Are you going to tell them what happened?”
I huff. “I’m surprised Cam hasn’t already.”
“Trust me, he wanted to,” she says. “But I convinced him that it’s your call.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” The tension in my shoulders ebbs a little.
“I think I’ll tell them. Though I’d prefer to have another job lined up first. Or an interview at the very least.” When both glasses are full—a little too full, actually—I carefully make my way back to the living room.
“They eventually came around when Cam left the family business, so I can trust that it will be okay, but I’d rather avoid any lectures. ”
“Fair enough,” Joey says, making grabby hands as I get closer.
The television naturally distracts us, and we fall into a comfortable silence, sipping our cocktails alongside Carrie Bradshaw.
“I know!” Joey gasps several minutes later, startling me. “You should take the job at my cousin’s camp.”
It takes a moment for my brain to flip through what I know about her family. “Asher?”
“Yes. Remember last summer he mentioned the camp’s doctor was retiring?”
I remember. I received a random text from Joey’s cousin—Millie’s older brother—asking if I’d be interested in the position of camp doctor. I politely declined, claiming I was happy where I was. And that was the truth. But now…
“I bet the position has already been filled,” I reason around a mouthful of almonds.
Shifting to one side, she slips her phone from the pocket of her leggings. Then she swipes at her screen. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“Are you texting him?” I ask, my heart in my throat. “Wait. I don’t even know what camp doctor means. I need a year-round job, not something just for the summer.”
She’s only half listening, her thumbs moving at the speed of light.
“Huh?” She puts her phone down and blinks at me.
“Oh. You’d have to talk to him about the details, but Daisy Lake is a year-round retreat center as well as a summer camp.
Asher hosts all sorts of events. Writing retreats, yoga retreats, family reunions, corporate events.
That kind of stuff. Oh, yes! There was an art retreat recently, actually.
I bet you would have loved that. And the summer camp isn’t just for kids—it’s for families.
Think Dirty Dancing, minus the forbidden love and social inequities.
Ooh! That’s what we should watch.” She snags the remote off the coffee table and searches for the movie.
“Now I’m craving watermelon.” She laughs, handing me her glass for yet another refill.
I’m not sure a third martini is the best idea, but I go for it anyway. And neither of us even makes it to Baby’s first dance scene before we’re passed out.
Talk about having the time of my life. I wake to a splitting headache and with my cheek glued to my wrist. The adhesive?
Gruyère cheese. The living room is significantly darker, and when I check my phone, discovering it’s after seven, I find a text notification from Pauline and another from an unknown number.
Joey’s still passed out on the other side of the sofa. I’m surprised my brother hasn’t shown up looking for her.
I open Pauline’s text first.
Pauline
I’ve forwarded an email from Dr. Elliott. It has all the information you should need about your severance package. I will miss you around here. Take care of yourself.
I secretly wish she would quit in solidarity, but she’s a single mom with kids to put through college.
Not everyone has the luxury of living rent-free like me, let alone the trust fund that could easily keep me afloat for a long, long time.
I wasn’t expecting a severance package, since I quit and hadn’t been there all that long anyway.
This is probably Dr. Elliott’s idiotic way of making amends.
No matter, I’ll donate it to a local victim service agency.
The second message is from Asher. I must not have saved his number in my phone the last time we texted. After quickly adding him to my contacts, I return to the thread.
Asher
I don’t know if I believe in fate or perfect timing, but the doc I recently hired backed out and I’ve been scrambling to find a replacement. You come with glowing recommendations, but I’d like to have an in-person interview. Think you can come up to the camp this weekend?
“Joey.” I kick her.
She grumbles but only turns and buries her face in the back cushion.
“Joey. Wake up. What did you do?”
Finally she rubs her eyes and mumbles, “Huh?”
“Did you tell Asher I was interested in the job?”
Eyes wide, she picks up her phone. With a quick look, she confirms that yes, she texted him.
“Ugh, my head hurts,” she whines.
Getting something other than alcohol in our systems is a good idea, but when I stand to head into the kitchen, black fuzzies blur my vision and I’m forced to steady myself against the sofa.
“Did he text you?” she asks when I return with two cups of water.
I grimace. “He did. He wants to interview me this weekend.”
Unlocking my phone, I show her the message. Her only response is a huff of a laugh.
“What?” I ask.
“I never believed in fate either, but then I met Cam.” A sleepy, dopey smile creeps up her face. “And this feels like more than just a coincidence.” She waggles her killer brows, then furrows them when she catches my expression. “Wait. Are you considering it?”
I shrug, nervous butterflies taking flight in my belly. “I don’t know.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Giving myself a minute to consider her question, I chug my entire glass of water.
“A summer camp doctor?” I wince. “I don’t mean for it to sound like the job is beneath me, but a role like that has never been part of my plan.
I’ve spent half my life dreaming of and working toward being a doctor in the city, treating primarily women and babies.
Maybe finding time to fit spin and art classes into my schedule. ”
“What if you helped him out just for the summer?” Joey suggests, perking up. “It would give you something to do while you search for more permanent work, and it would allow him time to find a replacement.”
“That’s true,” I agree, ruminating on the idea for a minute. “There’s no harm in taking the interview. It’s not like I have to accept the job.”
Sitting a little straighter, I unlock my phone and reply to Asher.
Me
Would love to discuss more. Tell me the day and time and I’ll be there