Chapter 15 Madison
Chapter fifteen
Madison
“Mads, I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten accomplished already! It’s been less than a week!” Clara exclaims. We’re gathered around a table at Becky’s coffee shop along with Becky and Syd, where I’ve been showing them my website and social media accounts.
“This looks so professional,” Syd says as she untangles Addie’s fingers from her hair.
Addie is basically Sydney in three-year-old form, with the same blonde hair and long, full eyelashes framing her light-brown eyes.
Syd’s son, Davis Jr., is in school along with Becky’s son, but Addie tagged along for our soft-opening of the coffee shop.
Becky’s Brews will be open Thursdays through Saturdays for a few weeks until full-time hours start for tourist season.
We happily play the guinea pigs for her new drink ideas—although, I’d secretly be much happier if she offered some tea options.
“Now I just have to find some actual clients,” I say with a sigh.
“Are you hoping to edit fiction or nonfiction?” Becky asks.
“Honestly, anything. I might have a preference for nonfiction, but there don’t seem to be as many independent nonfiction authors looking for editing services.
I might have to be hired by a publisher to get that kind of work,” I say.
“I’ll do just about anything at this point, at least to get started. ”
“Well, your website looks good. And the first posts you created for social media are appealing and informative, so hopefully you’ll get some inquiries soon,” Syd says. “I’m impressed by everything you’ve done so far.”
A tiny ping of guilt zips through me that I’m taking all the credit for what I’ve accomplished, considering that a lot of this was based on Liam’s suggestions. But I’m not about to confess to these three married friends that I’ve been spending late nights with him.
Especially not when Clara knows every detail about my failed attempts at finding someone via dating apps.
There were a lot of guys who weren’t interested in a second date.
And of the ones who were, I tended to sniff out their annoying flaws by the second or third date, successfully thwarting any long-term future.
Clara would think something is up if she knew I’ve spent solo time with Liam on multiple occasions and haven’t blacklisted him yet.
And nothing is up. Nothing can be up.
“I spent an hour this morning following a web of editors, publishers, and authors on social media in an effort to network and get my information out there. I don’t love the idea of cold messaging authors, so I’m really hoping to get a few inquiries soon to get the ball rolling,” I say.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t gain some traction.
My severance will only hold me over for so long before I need some income. ”
“Why don’t you work some hours here at the shop?” Becky offers. “It wouldn’t be full time or anything, but it could give you a little bit of cushion while you get things rolling.”
“Really?” I ask. “Would you really need help?”
“I’d take your help over high school girls any day,” Becky responds with a laugh. “I have a feeling your ability to follow directions would be much better. I could train you before tourist season picks up.”
“I’ll be your best customer,” Clara says sweetly.
“And I’ll be your worst customer to make sure you have what it takes to handle the rude tourists,” Syd adds mischievously.
“I might take you up on that, Becky,” I muse. “Sure beats moving back home with my parents.”
“Do they live in Kansas City?” Becky asks.
“Oh, no,” I say. “They live on a farm in rural Nebraska. My brother and his wife also have a house on the property because they’re going to take over when my dad retires. If he ever retires.”
“No farm life for you?” Syd asks.
I shake my head. “I enjoyed growing up there. I know that a lot of my work ethic and attention to detail come straight from that upbringing. So I appreciate it, but I’ve been eager to get away from the small-town life ever since high school.”
Clara motions around. “And yet, here you are,” she says with a sly smile.
I shake my head slightly. “Noel is different. You’re here. You’re all here,” I say. “It’s a good break from KC while I get my life figured out. Then I’ll be out of your hair and back on my way to city life.”
“You don’t need to leave anytime soon. We like having you around, Mads,” Syd says.
Is she just saying that because she’s close friends with Clara? Are they all just tolerating me because I’m Clara’s best friend?
Clara is the type of person that attracts friends like flowers attract bees.
She’s kind, thoughtful, and generous—who wouldn’t want to have her in their corner?
I, on the other hand, haven’t always had the easiest time keeping close friends.
Apparently, I’m too abrasive for some people’s taste.
Often, I’ll lie awake at night replaying conversations I had that day, only to realize too late that something I said out loud probably should have stayed an inside thought.
Clara’s been the exception, accepting and loving me for who I am.
At least, after we’d spent lots of time together—I think her naturally non-confrontational demeanor forced her to be nice to me in the beginning until she came to appreciate my blunt personality.
She certainly needed someone to tell her the hard things when she was too nice to stand up for herself.
But I don’t expect that all of her friends here will share her opinion of me. Becky may rescind her employment offer after spending hours upon hours together training me.
“By the way, do you want me to come get the Christmas decorations from your cabin?” Becky says.
I don’t miss Clara’s expectant look as she turns her attention to me. Like she knows.
Sighing, I answer, “No. They’ve turned into a good luck charm of sorts. The Christmas ambience somehow helps me get in the zone to be productive.”
Clara raises her hands victoriously. “Christmas always wins. I told you, Mads—you just needed some Christmas magic.”
I fight a smile as I tell her, “Okay, but could you please request that the Christmas magic send me a paying client now?”
After dropping Clara off at her cabin (and being subjected to Clark practically kissing the lips right off her face after a mere five hours apart), I head back to my tiny corner of the world.
Liam’s SUV is still gone, and I can hear that darn cat howling through the door like its life is about to end.
I cross the gravel path and peek through the window, only to be startled by a hiss and a paw swiping at the glass.
“Well, I guess you’re alive, little devil cat,” I huff. Leaving the animal to its misery, I kick off my shoes in my cabin and heat up some leftover stir-fry. While the food is microwaving, I turn on all my Christmas lights and open the ambience video on my tablet.
Screwing up my courage, I spend my dinner time sending cold direct messages to authors and emailing small publishing houses offering proofreading services. An hour later, I hear Liam’s car pull up. Peering out the window, I see the lights come on inside his cabin.
I shouldn’t be expecting him to stop by. I shouldn’t be crossing my fingers that he’ll text me about his day on the job. I definitely shouldn’t be hoping he’ll tell me the details of his “investigation” into the plant.
But I’m maybe a little disappointed when he doesn’t do any of those things.
Flopping onto my bed, I stare at the ceiling and debate with myself. Make contact or wait for him to contact me?
Sitting up, I decide that one short text won’t hurt anything.
ME
I got a job today!
There’s no instant response, giving me plenty of time to pick apart my decision to text him first. Finally, after five minutes that feel like a root canal, he texts back.
SUITS
You landed your first client? Well done.
ME
Well, no. Still on the hunt for a proofreading client. But Becky offered me a job at her coffee shop.
The message is instantly read, but the response dots don’t immediately start bouncing. It’s a few minutes until his next text comes through.
SUITS
Why are you wasting time working at a coffee shop instead of focusing on getting clients? Or are you bailing on MJE and last night was a waste of our time?
My eyes read and reread his text over and over, trying to process a different meaning than the words on the screen. Heat prickles in my chest, a kernel of anger whirring to life inside.
ME
Um, rude. No, I’m not bailing. I spent most of the day on MJE tasks and reaching out to potential clients. It’s not a waste of time to accept a part-time job that will give me a little bit of stability while I get things off the ground.
SUITS
Not trying to be rude. I just don’t want you to chicken out on something you were excited about.
ME
I’m not chickening out. But I promise not to risk wasting any more of your precious time. I’ve got things covered on my own from here on out.
I toggle my phone to silent and click off the screen.
Then, I sit down at my laptop.
I’ll show you, Mr. Exec Suits Park.
I start sending more emails about my proofreading services, and I’m deep in the zone when there’s a knock at my door.
Crossing my arms, I glare at the offending knocker on the other side of the door. I take my time getting up to answer it.
“Yes?” I ask curtly as I open the door a crack.
“I’m sorry,” Liam says. He’s wearing the same brand of athletic apparel he had on the first time we met, and it’s really rather annoying that he can look so attractive in both suits and athleisure. Especially when I’m very annoyed with him.
“Sorry for what?” I prompt.
He huffs an exhale through his nostrils. “I’m sorry I insinuated that you wasted my time and that you were chickening out.”
I make a show of looking at my phone. “Um, last time I read your words with my highly-trained eyeballs, pretty sure you outright said I wasted your time and I was chickening out. There was zero insinuation or subtlety.”
Liam rolls his eyes, then leans a forearm against the door. “Okay. Sorry for explicitly stating the above. I was in hot water for not having a report ready to go for my boss this morning. Normally, I would have had an update to share first thing.”
Guilt twinges my gut. “But you were helping me out, instead,” I state flatly. Liam shrugs. “Sorry,” I say.
“It’s fine,” Liam replies. “You’re in good shape now, and I had a full report ready for my boss by the end of the day. All’s well that ends well.”
“Thanks for telling me what happened that made you act like a jerk. ‘No legacy is so rich as honesty,’” I quip, playing on his Shakespeare reference, even though he probably doesn’t realize he was quoting the Bard.
Liam raises an eyebrow, amused. Then, he catches me entirely off guard when he quotes, “‘Our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not.’ I’m afraid you were caught in the crosshairs of my faults whipping my virtues, keeping me from getting too prideful,” he says. “I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
“Why do you know so much Shakespeare?” I demand.
Liam merely smiles, a sly, mysterious smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Goodnight, MJ.”
I watch his retreating figure, listening to the crunch of the gravel under his feet. Then, I close the door and groan.