17. Lyla
Lyla
The foyer of Bloom Consulting Group isn’t the way I pictured it.
The way the job description sounded, the company made themselves seem like a boutique consulting firm, verging on a hole-in-the-wall establishment.
That’s what I liked about it. I figured if it was a smaller firm, they might not do much digging into why I left my previous job.
They might also look at my experience on my resume and hire me on the spot.
My confidence plummets, and my knee bounces up and down as I sit in this weird, bowl shaped chair and stare at my reflection in the mirrored wall across from me.
Shirley is running ten minutes behind and I’m getting impatient.
She said this was just a meet and greet, to get the HR questions out of the way, but for me, that’s a problem.
I spent a lot of time preparing for this interview. I have two crisp copies of my resume in a folder, but I still haven’t figured out how to explain my departure from my last job in a way that says, please hire me, I promise I’m not emotionally unstable.
A woman with short cropped blonde hair wanders out from behind the reception desk, and heads over to me. She’s chic, wearing a creamy blouse tucked into even chicer wide leg navy trousers. But her smile is warm as she holds out her hand to shake mine, so that’s a good start, I guess.
“You must be Lyla,” she says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I say, returning her smile with one of my own. “Thank you for meeting with me today.”
I follow her down a long hall, and into an east-facing office with floor to ceiling windows.
Since we’re on the twenty-sixth floor of a high rise in downtown Calgary, the view is practically unobstructed, and I can see all the way to the mountains.
A soft blue haze obscures the rolling foothills beneath them, but my heart squeezes in my chest as I think that on a perfectly clear day, I might be able to see all the way to Sage Valley.
It makes me think about Beck. We’ve fallen into an easy routine over the last week.
I do my morning yoga on the lawn while he has his morning coffee.
Sometimes he even has it on the porch now, and I’ve caught him looking at me a few times, despite knowing he’d deny it.
I have to wonder what’s changed between us.
Something has softened in Beck towards me.
Still, we’ve been keeping a healthy distance from each other, because nothing has changed in terms of who Beck and I are to each other, and what I’m at Wild Sage to do.
He’s off to work by the time I go in for my own coffee, so I sit with the elder Hollis most mornings, and most afternoons for lunch.
I’m perfectly content with that, and Wade is good company.
He shares funny anecdotes about each of the Hollis kids growing up, my personal favourite being the time Beck thought it’d be fun to climb the big oak tree, and fell out into a pile of manure.
Beck only comes home for supper, at which point I call it a day and retreat to the guest house for my own.
I haven’t accepted any of Wade’s invites for dinner yet.
Beck and I have been making some progress, and I don’t want to overstep again like I did when I showed up for breakfast. It took him a while to get his panties out of a knot over that, and I’m worried I’m going to lose ground with him again.
I didn’t tell anyone I was going back to the city for a job interview, not even Wade, despite his offer to watch Critter for me today. I certainly didn’t tell Beck.
Instead, I told him I had a gyno appointment. Men hate talking about gyno appointments. It’s like how I used to use my period to get out of gym class, and the teacher didn’t ask any questions.
There isn’t much point in announcing anything unless I need a reference, and I haven’t been at Wild Sage long, so I figure I should put my head down and do the work until it comes to that point. Then, maybe Beck will give me a good one.
Shirley asks me a question, but I miss it, my mind drifting out the window, over the prairies, back to Wild Sage. To Beck and the thick biceps that are tanned from working outdoors.
I do indulge myself from time to time with a peek at him in his black leather chaps and snug fitting black t-shirt when he comes through the front door after his day of work.
Beck Hollis is easy on the eyes, I’ll say that.
And I don’t hate the fact that my office has a direct line of sight to the front door when he walks in.
It’s like I’m Pavlov’s dog, I practically start salivating at 4:55 on the dot.
“Pardon?” I shake my head, bringing myself back to the present moment, and what I’m here to do. Nail the interview, get the job, and leave Sage Valley. The thought causes a sharp pang in my chest.
“I see on your resume that you have a new job,” she points out. I gave her the updated copy that included my work at Wild Sage, although I don’t have any data to show I’ve made a difference there yet. It’s fine. I’m hoping it will distract her from my embarrassing departure from Apex.
“I do,” I answer. “I’ve been working for Wild Sage Ranch for about a month now.” Ok, I’ve only been there for about three weeks, but a bit of an exaggeration won’t hurt.
“What made you leave the job before that?” She asks.
My hands go clammy, and I inconspicuously wipe them on my black dress pants, but my heart still thunders in my ears.
“Oh, it wasn’t a good fit for either party. Our values… didn’t align.”
She nods, peering down at my resume through thick rimmed tortoise shell glasses. To my surprise, she doesn’t end the interview then and there. Something in my answer must have given her enough satisfaction that she continues.
Shirley asks me about all of my previous clients, what kind of companies I’ve consulted for, and I have an entire folder with various stats and data that support how fucking awesome at my job I am.
She seems genuinely impressed by the numbers. She even gives me a tour of the office, and points out the corner office that I would call mine if I got the job. I feel like I have it in the bag, and I breathe a sigh of relief as we return to talk logistics.
When she finishes by telling me they have several other candidates interested in the position, my heart drops. This is far from over.
“I’ll be in contact once the interviews wrap up in a couple weeks,” she says. “Of course, we’ll have to get a background check and references if you are the successful candidate,” she adds.
I smile and shake her hand, all while nerves and disappointment war in my gut.
I’m packing up my things, gently sliding my folders back into my tote, when my eye catches on a small framed photo sitting on her desk. The photo is of a young girl, no older than four or five, with a wide gap toothed smile, holding two bunnies proudly in her lap. She’s been caught mid-laugh.
“Cute kid,” I say. First impressions have never been my strong suit, but there’s no time like the present to practice.
Besides, everyone loves a compliment on three things: their pets, their kids, or their appearance.
I have limited time to try and earn brownie points here. I’m pulling out all the stops.
Maybe I should test that theory on Beck one of these days, compliment him on those chaps of his and see where it gets me.
“Thanks,” Shirley says, her face lighting up. “That’s my granddaughter.”
Perfect, I can comment on her adorable grandkid and on her youthful appearance in one shot.
“I would have never thought you’d be old enough to have a granddaughter,” I add.
Shirley chuckles, a flush warming her cheeks.
“Are those her pets?” I ask. I’m doing it, I’m going for it. Three for three—looks, kids, pets.
“No no,” Shirley says. “Her mother would never let her have bunnies. Those were at an event we went to, a retirement party for a friend of mine. She did a fundraiser for this rescue organization.” Her voice goes wistful. “She had so much fun.”
“Looks like it,” I beam.
Shirley and I say our goodbyes, and I leave with a spring in my step. I may not have gotten the job on the spot like I’d hoped. Even if I did get it, the minute Shirley looks into my references it’ll all be over. But I’m leaving knowing I gave it my best college try, and that’s all I can ask for.
The gears in my mind start turning.
I made a promise to Beck that I fully intend on keeping. That I’d prove to him what a softie he can be. That I know there’s a big, mushy, heart in there somewhere.
I make my way through the parkade and find my Prius, getting in and throwing my bag down on the passenger seat.
My bag is like a bottomless pit, a black hole that sucks anything and everything into it, never to be found again.
So I dig around for a minute or two before I find my phone, and then I navigate to Sutton’s contact.
Can you give me some contacts for animal rescues around Sage Valley?
While I wait for Sutton’s reply, I call Wade. He’ll need to be in on the plan, so I fill him in on my idea. He bellows with laughter when I explain it to him and agrees to help. I let him go when the chime of a text message comes through.
SUTTON
Have you decided to live up to your true calling of becoming a crazy cat lady?
You know I wouldn’t just have cats.
I want to throw a birthday party for a friend. Someone who could use a little pet therapy.
If you’re talking about Beck, he’s going to hate that.
I know. You in?
I love it.
Let me know how I can help.
Beck’s birthday is coming up fast. Which means I have less than a week to pull off my plan, send out invites, and book the animal rescue. Maybe if Sutton asks they’ll be willing to do her a favour.
I pull my Prius out of the parking spot and navigate through the city, making one important stop before I officially head back to Sage Valley. Eventually, I reach the highway, the road slicing through miles and miles of farmland.
When I made this drive back to my hometown earlier this month, dread had landed with a thud in my gut, curling up there and settling in.
I knew what my return would mean. The whispers and gossip that would follow me through town.
Pitying looks and judgemental glances had been the reason I left in the first place.
I don’t know how Austin does it, but I guess Austin cares less about what people think of him than I do.
But it hasn’t all been bad. Actually, my reception in Sage Valley has been better than I’d expected. Skye and Sutton have welcomed me into their friend group with open arms, and I’ve already surprised myself by agreeing to join them for their monthly karaoke night at Lucky’s.
Still, ever since I came back to Sage Valley my sights have been set on leaving again.
Getting the hell out of dodge. Like there’s something hardwired in me to run whenever anyone gets close enough to me.
The closer people get, the clearer they can see all my flaws, and the more likely they are to decide they don’t like what they see.
Or I royally stick my foot in my own mouth and blurt something offensive when I don’t mean to.
It’s a toss up really. But ultimately, friendships for me always end. I figure I may as well be the one to end them first.
Today, the drive has flown by, and already the flat expanse of farmers fields now roll and dip with the changing landscape as I near the foothills.
Evergreen trees dot the rocky hillsides.
My heart picks up its pace as I pass the Welcome to Sage Valley sign on the side of the road.
It’ll still be about five minutes until I make it into town, another ten after that until I reach Wild Sage.
With every kilometer I’ve gained leaving the city behind, the expectations of my city life have slowly fallen away, and I somehow feel freer. Lighter.
More like me.