19. Marnie
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Marnie
The past two weeks have been a blur of meetings, exhibit designs, and print orders.
Caleb kept finding excuses to bring me pumpkin spice lattes each morning, always armed with Art’s tip jar question, and then after a spirited debate, we discussed the exhibit.
It’s been great starting my day with a shot of espresso and a dose of Caleb.
But as much work as I’ve already done, I still have so much to do—vendors to book, advertisements to publish, my daily check that I’ve listed the correct dates and times and locations on all materials.
Just because it’s a holiday doesn’t mean the work stops. The historical society closed early today ahead of the holiday weekend, and the entire staff left shortly thereafter. Everyone except for me.
The building is now empty, with only my new spider plant to keep me company.
After I went bridge jumping, Caleb invited me over to see Berry again and surprised me with a new spider plant.
I took a tour of his greenhouse, and he showed me his current supply of plants and flowers that he’s growing for his clients.
When he told me he started nurturing this plant weeks ago specifically for me, I could barely contain my emotions.
No one has taken this kind of interest in me besides Gwen in a very long time.
My heart swells at the thought of him remembering that detail about me from one of our earliest interactions.
As I look at it now, sitting on the end of my shelf basking in the filtered sun, I take a moment to appreciate the color variations in its leaves and how much it differs from Charlotte.
I named this one Boris after the song by The Who.
My reminiscing comes to an end when I hear a strange noise from somewhere in the building.
And then I remember that’s impossible, because there’s no one else here.
All my coworkers are now out spending time with family and preparing for tonight’s Fourth of July celebrations.
There’s a parade through Edgartown, a bonfire and clambake on South Beach, and a concert at the tabernacle in Oak Bluffs, followed by a firework show in each town.
I’d like to go, I really would. But being less than two months out from the unveiling, I am starting to feel the work piling up, and I don’t want to fall behind.
I’m scared that I won’t be able to dig myself out of that hole.
And if I don’t dig myself out of that hole, then I can not only kiss the promotion goodbye, but also any good rapport I have left with Irene.
My vision blurs as I read the same sentence a third time, desperately trying to stay focused on proofreading the display signs, when the clacking of footsteps pulls my attention up.
I knew I wasn’t hearing things.
A figure rushes past my door so quickly I almost don’t have time to do a double take, but I’d recognize her anywhere.
“Josie?” I call out.
A gasp echoes in the hall and the footsteps halt, and then the clacking resumes in the direction of my office.
Josie pops her head in the doorway. “You scared me. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“Just me. I think the last person left at two.”
She looks up at the clock in the doorway. It’s half past three.
“I thought you’d left already,” I state. I was certain she had. I watched her pull out of the parking lot when I was making copies.
“I forgot my wallet in my haste to get home before the festivities. Imagine my surprise when I’m trying to check out at the grocery store and realize I have no money.
My poor husband had to drive halfway across the island to bail me out.
” She gives me a puzzled look. “What are you still doing here? The office closed hours ago.”
“I was just finishing up that order form you asked for. Then I thought I might get a jump-start on the signage proofs for next week,” I say, gesturing to the copies laid out in front of me. “Jordan said I was fine to stay as long as I needed since the building will lock behind me.”
She stands to her full height now, eyes moving between the various papers. I can’t quite make out her expression. “Just leave those on my desk. I’ll get to them Monday.”
“Really, I don’t mind?—”
“Marnie, that wasn’t a request. Go home. Be with your friends. Do something. There are so many activities going on tonight all around the island. You shouldn’t be here alone and working.”
“But—”
“No buts,” she interrupts. Her voice is firm, her stare unwavering. This isn’t up for discussion.
My face falls slightly at the harsh directness of her tone, and my wrist begins to cramp as I scramble to take one last note before Josie kicks me out.
She steps across the threshold and takes several long strides toward my desk. “As someone over twice your age, and going on thirty years in the job market, I am going to offer you my piece of unsolicited advice.”
My pen stops mid-sentence, lifting slightly off the page to not bleed the ink through to the papers below.
She takes a final step toward me, her body language softening before she speaks again. “I love my job. I really do. It brings me a lot of joy and I, too, have worked hard to be where I am. But I am not going to let a job dictate my life, and you shouldn’t either. No job is worth that.”
It takes a moment for her words to sink in, but when they do, they sting.
I feel like no one gets it. She, of all people, should know how much Irene expects of me, and therefore how much I expect of myself. I can treat myself to a nice vacation after I get the promotion.
“But I won’t be able to get the promotion if this exhibit isn’t spectacular. Then this will all have been for nothing.” My shoulders slump as the confession tumbles out and I look over at the stack of papers on my desk. As soon as I complete one task, it feels like five more pile on.
Josie senses the shift in the air. “It’s your life, Marnie.
Do with that advice what you will. But, if anyone asks, you never saw me here at this hour.
I’m officially on island time now.” She turns for the door but pauses to linger in the hallway.
“Most of the staff is heading to South Beach tonight for the bonfire and fireworks if you decide to join.”
The invitation hangs there in the air between us.
“Maybe,” I reply. “Let me see how much work I can get done.”
I don’t miss the disappointment that crosses her face, but she relents and closes my office door, leaving me to work.
I jot the last few edits on the final page and reach into my drawer for a paperclip. I stick a note on the front as a reminder to review it first thing Monday, and head down the hall.
When I step into Josie’s office, my eyes are drawn up to the sign behind her desk. On Island Time.
In that moment, I realize Josie is right. Everyone is out with friends and family, and I am choosing to spend my time working. Alone.
Hardly anything is open today, so really, I am just doing busy work. It’s not like I can make any calls or get anything approved today. With the long holiday weekend, I won’t get any responses until Monday.
I leave the papers on Josie’s desk and walk out with a new resolve, not even bothering to spare a glance at the clock as I pass by on my way out the door.
I’m on island time now, too.
Josie easily spots me through the crowd as I approach the gathering alone.
She is lounging in a lawn chair with her family, all laughing and singing along to the music blasting from the speakers, and when she locks eyes with me, she waves.
I lift my hand in a small, tentative gesture, and my chest fills with some kind of ease when Josie gives me an approving nod.
My heart swells with pride at the confirmation that I made the right choice in coming here. I took her advice and went home, but just long enough to change into a pair of jean shorts and a plain white shirt, layered with a thin navy blue sweater.
I kick off my sandals at the base of the sand dunes and scan the crowd.
I spot the familiar young girl who I gave my carousel voucher to building a massive sandcastle at the water’s edge. Every time she finishes sculpting a tower, she eagerly races back to the water to grab some shells to decorate it, then fills up her pail for the next tower.
Overall, there’s probably a few hundred people here.
All locals, most of whom I recognize from my recent island adventures.
The teenage girl who rang me up at Edgartown Books last week is playing volleyball with friends.
The kid who almost crashed his bike into me on my walk to work last month is running around with a pair of sparklers in each hand, painting an assortment of shapes into the air.
The famous Logan of Logan’s Seafood Shack is hauling carts full of seafood across the sand to the food prep area.
Beside it, a sign lists off everything being served this evening: lobster, clams, crab, fish, and an assortment of staples like corn on the cob, potatoes, and coleslaw.
It truly does feel like the entire island is here. Strangely though, I don’t feel like an outsider. No one cares that I’m not a local. No one is giving me strange looks or wondering why I am intruding on their celebration. I truly feel like I belong.
Weaving my way through the rest of the crowd, I make eye contact and smile at everyone I pass, until I spot a familiar blonde at the same time she spots me.
“Marnie, hi!” She runs over to me and embraces me in a tight hug, her hoodie creating some static in my hair when she releases me.
“Hey, Linny.”
I didn’t realize she would be here, but in hindsight, it’s silly that I assumed she wouldn’t be. And if she’s here, then Parker and Caleb can’t be far away.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach from excitement. I instinctively smooth out my shirt and pat my hair down, then scan the crowd in search of him.