Chapter 39
Miranda
My skin prickles, and I begin to sweat, despite my truck’s AC being on full blast. I’m not sure if I’m more nervous that the interview will go well, or that I’ll mess it up.
Nothing has felt right ever since the conversation with my parents.
I never expected them to support a relationship between Hayden and me, but they actually seemed happy.
Once dinner was over, I quickly made my escape to my house so I could process everything, so I didn’t have a chance to ask how things went between Hayden and my dad. From what my mom said, it’s clear they must have had a conversation before we got to the house.
But none of those things matter. Moving out and starting over has nothing to do with it.
Regardless of what set this plan in motion, the facts are that I need to set out into the world and do something that I want to do.
Climbing out of my truck, I straighten my clothes and make my way down the path to the library entrance.
I’m sure if this had been even a few weeks ago, there’s nothing that could have made me happier.
But now, I brace myself as I prepare to walk into the old building.
As soon as I open the door, I’m greeted by the scent of old books.
Memories of the school library flood my mind as I walk down the narrow hallway.
The library is in the city, but it’s a historic building and carries the fragrance of hardwood and memories past. Stepping inside, I close my eyes and breathe in the heavy scent.
“Miranda?”
My attention is grabbed by the sound of an old woman’s voice. I look up to find an elderly woman in a classic old pantsuit and her white hair pulled into a tidy bun. She smiles warmly at me before extending her wrinkled hand in my direction.
“I’m Mary. I spoke with you on the phone to schedule the interview. I’m so glad you made it. Follow me.”
I follow her down the hall and around the corner to a small office.
The only thing saving it from being claustrophobic is the large picture window.
She sits at her desk, and I take the seat across from her.
Along with the scent of books, it also smells like coffee and perfume, which reminds me even more of my school days.
“So, Ms. Wells, what made you decide to apply to the Carruthersville Public Library?”
I despise open-ended questions. I’m sure that’s why they use them for interviews, but I feel immediate panic begin to creep in. All my rehearsed responses flee from my mind as I struggle to remember how words work.
“Well. I like books.”
Oh, my God. I want to smack myself. And this is why I hate the idea of job interviews. The woman asked a basic question, and the best answer I could come up with was “I like books”?
Mary smiles and gives an encouraging nod. “That’s always a plus, since this is a library. But what else? What moved you to apply? What do you hope to gain by working here?”
The woman’s smile calms me, and I quickly begin to relax a bit.
“I have a degree in English Literature. I would like to do something with that, and I’ll be moving here in a few weeks, so I need a job that’s close.
So yes, I love books, but I would also like the chance to work around them every day. ”
The old woman’s smile grows, and I somehow manage to relax even more. It doesn’t take long before we fall into what feels like easy conversation. Mary reminds me of a classic sweet grandma, and by the time we finish chatting, it doesn’t feel like I’ve been on a job interview.
She stands and reaches out her wrinkled hand once again.
“Thank you for coming in. I think you’d be a really good fit.
Why don’t you take a few days and decide if this is the job for you, then give me a call.
We don’t want to offer the job to anyone who doesn’t feel like they’d be a good fit.
You may not have the experience, but you do have the other qualifications for the job.
It’s been open for a little while, so don’t feel rushed as you think about if it’s the right fit for you and your family. ”
I take her warm hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as I stand to make my way toward the door.
It doesn’t take me long to walk down the narrow hall and make my way out to my truck.
I should have an excited smile on my face as I climb inside.
But I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.
Things aren’t falling into place like I expected them to.
Well…they are, but it doesn’t feel the way I imagined it would.
The second I close the door of my truck, all I can think about is Hayden.
If starting over is so right, then why does this feel so damn wrong?