CHAPTER 14
Emma
I pack my duffel bag in less than two minutes. It nearly kills me to go into the perfect bathroom to grab my off-brand toiletries. I don’t want to say goodbye to the fresh towels, the countertop, or least of all the lighted mirror. I didn’t even get to soak in the tub!
But I still only have fifteen dollars to my name. I can’t afford to replace even this stupid generic tube of toothpaste or my cheap-o conditioner.
“Goodbye sauna function… I will miss you most of all.”
I turn off the bathroom light and double-check that I’ve removed everything from the bedroom.
This sucks.
I’ve lost a million jobs. Unfortunately, getting fired less than twenty-four hours into a new job doesn’t even shock me. Once I was fired before they officially offered me the job, which made me laugh. At least before I started crying.
I’ve been fired by angry bosses, handsy bosses, sweet and shy bosses. I’ve been fired for not working hard enough or for working too hard and making others look bad. I’ve been fired for not wearing a uniform correctly or for looking too attractive in the uniform provided.
Wearing my hair too long.
Pulling my hair back.
Cussing.
Not cussing enough.
I’ve been fired by screaming bosses and by bosses throwing things while screaming. By phone, email, voicemail, text, sticky note, and hand gestures, and sometimes more than one per firing.
You might say I’m a professional at getting fired.
But this one…
Shit.
This hurts the worst.
And it’s not just because I have fifteen dollars to my name. Or because this job comes with a huge bed, a fancy shower, a nice family, and a beautiful location. It’s not just how safe I feel here.
Although the safety feels so unbelievably good.
It hurts for reasons I’m afraid to name and refuse to examine too closely. I know all too well that it’s not healthy to hold onto hopes and fantasies. And Finn MacLaine is a big, muscular mountain of hopes and fantasies, a mountain too big to ignore.
I will never forget watching Finn approach me at the wedding last night. When he hovered over me and looked down on me with his violet eyes, I felt like I was seeing decency, proof that there was still something good left in the world. I don’t remember the last time that’s happened to me.
Seeing him just now, standing behind Jasmine with his hands on her shoulders… that about broke me. He’s a fiercely protective dad. A man with standards.
And at that moment, hope swelled in me. My “wife-makes-three” fantasy reared its stupid, ugly head. I think I’ve watched too many dumb TV movies and it’s warped my brain.
I’m an idiot.
But at least I’ve eaten something and had the best sleep of my life. It will sure make it easier to walk all those miles back the way I came.
I swing my duffel bag over my shoulder and step out of what used to be my bedroom. I dread seeing Finn and Jasmine on my way out, but they’re either gone or in a different part of the house, because there’s no sign of them.
I step outside onto the porch and see no one there, either. No Phyllis or Summer or any of the MacLaine brothers. It’s going to be a long walk to town, and I don’t know what I’ll do once I’m there.
I take a few steps forward when I hear a car door slam. It’s coming from a house down the lane, the one Phyllis said belongs to Cal and Victoria, the bride and groom. They’re outside, putting bags in their car.
I try not to stare as Cal locks Victoria in a one-armed embrace, kissing her deeply. I sigh. They’re so in love. I guess it’s okay to think that real love might exist and happy endings can come true.
Just not for women like me.
I wait for the kiss to end and walk toward them. “Excuse me. I hate to bother you.” I remain about ten feet away. “I’m Emma. If you’re going to town, can you give me a ride? I understand if you can’t.”
Victoria furrows her brow. “Are you all right? I haven’t had a chance to welcome you properly to Yosemite Ranch. I’m Victoria, and this is my husband, Cal.”
A huge grin breaks across Cal’s face. “She’s right! I’m her husband!” He laughs. “And yes, sorry. We’ve been a little preoccupied. Welcome.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure them. “I understand. And congratulations.”
I wait for an answer on whether they can give me a ride, but it isn’t coming. I think they’re waiting for me to explain why I’m standing here with my duffel bag packed and asking them to drive me to town.
“Hop in,” Cal says finally. “Of course, we’ll give you a ride. Just to town or is there somewhere in particular you need to be?”
I think about the offer as I take a seat in the back.
Getting to town isn’t really getting me anywhere. I still need a place to stay and a job. I don’t think I’ll find either in the closest small country town with the name I can’t even remember.
But I can’t ask them to drive me back to Reno, and I sure can’t afford to take a bus, so the bus station isn’t an option.
“Just to town.” I don’t sound too convinced, not even to myself.
“How’re you liking Yosemite Ranch?” Victoria asks.
“It’s beautiful. Fresh air. And the houses are right out of magazines.”
“Have you tried out Finn’s pool yet?” Cal asks. “It’s three feet at one end and twelve feet at the other end. Saltwater. Good for the joints.”
“Not yet,” I say, but what I mean is, not ever. I’ll never swim in the pool with the beach and the slide. There sure are a lot of “nevers” in my future. More by the minute, it seems.
“You come from Reno, right?” Victoria asks. “Were you a housekeeper there, too?”
“No.” I don’t offer any more information than that. I look out the window.
We’ve just passed through the Yosemite Ranch gate, and we’re on the two-lane paved road. I know it well. I stared at it for hours and hours yesterday.
Cal and Victoria are just trying to be friendly, and I appreciate that. I appreciate the ride. But I know their kind of people don’t want to know the truth about my work history, or any of my history. I don’t blame them.
I smile to myself, imagining how my answer would sound to the educated, kind, and beautiful rich people they are.
“My last job in Reno was a waitress at a twenty-four-hour truck stop. The tips were pretty good, but that’s only because the uniform was a pink crinoline micro-mini that my boss said was a retro 1960s style.
Whatever. All I know is that the skirt stopped just below my hips and showed off the matching frilly underpants.
“Truckers loved to pat my frilly underpants. Half of them liked to tip extra when they patted. The rest just patted and stiffed me.”
So much shame. So much regret.
It’s all I’ve known.