Chapter 33
Lindsey
The following morning, I stare into the mirror of the spare bathroom inside Bronwyn's condo and take in the tailored slacks that won't button or zip and the silky top that's straining across my boobs.
That's pregnancy for you, my inner voice whispers. I return to the bedroom and search through my clothes, trying to find something a little looser. I've been living in leggings and shorts and T-shirts, but those won't do for an interview.
A knock sounds at my door, and I call a frazzled, "Come in."
"Hey, how's— Oh. What's wrong?"
I turn to face Bronwyn and sweep my hands from chest to belly, making the universal signal of “nothing fits” frustration.
Bronwyn bites back a smile. "Don't move. I'll be right back."
I stare at the clothes that I'd so carefully placed in the closet now lying strewn and discarded on the bed and floor.
"I'm a size bigger than you. See if any of these fit."
I turn and see Bronwyn carrying an arm load of clothes. "You are an absolute lifesaver."
She lays them out on the bed atop the others and points at a shortsleeved A-line dress in a medium blue. "That one first."
The dress is perfect for an interview—if it fits.
I yank off the top and don the dress, then shove the too-tight pants down to my ankles and let the dress fall into place. Then I breathe. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." She nailed it on the first try, and it's beautiful.
"Need shoes?" Bronwyn asks.
"No, I have flats that'll go perfectly with this.
" That's one of the things I like about living here.
Even dress clothes are business casual, and the women wear either flats or wedges due to sinking into the sand.
My high-heeled days are mostly behind me—I hope.
I'm a girly girl and like dressing up on occasion, but I love the fact that heels won't be a daily thing for me now.
"That blue looks fantastic on you."
I pause long enough to take a look in the mirror and have to agree that it's a great dress. Professional yet feminine. And it fits.
I hurry to the closet, having lost far too much time scrambling into and out of clothes, and hunt out the flats. Which are on the bottom of the pile, of course.
I head to the bed and put them on and look up to see Bronwyn standing arms crossed and a worried expression on her face.
"What? Is something wrong? Did I screw up my hair in all the changing?"
"No, you look great. I just worry that this is a lot of stress for you and the baby."
"The stress is from not having an income," I tell her. "I mean, I have savings, but it'll only last so long. I'm okay. Especially now that the meds have kicked in and are helping so much."
"Just promise me that if it's too much, you'll consider my offer?"
Late last night, Bronwyn had offered to cover the cost of the delivery from the inheritance she'd received from my brother, Jason.
"You're sweet to do that, and you have no idea how much I appreciate it but—no.
I can't accept it. He left that money to you, Bron.
Jason and I were close, but we saw each other once a year at best. You're the one who cared for him at his worst, and you're the one who deserves that gift. "
Her mouth flattens at my stubbornness.
"Well, just know it's on the table and there if you need it, okay? It's one thing to be an independent woman but not at the expense of your health or the baby's."
"I'll remember that," I promise, standing. "Now, how do I look? Like a professional advertising assistant?"
Bronwyn smiles. "Yes. Now go get that job."
Thirty minutes later, I enter Salt Air Media, and the receptionist greets me with a smile. "You must be Lindsey. You're here for an interview with Quinley?"
"Yes, Lindsey Ashby." I take a glance at the waiting area, wondering if I'll be part of a cattle call. I don't see anyone waiting, so maybe that's a good sign?
"Follow me. She's expecting you."
I follow the young woman down a hallway to the end where she gently knocks before opening the door.
A gorgeous blond woman swings around in her office chair, phone pressed to her ear. Her eyes twinkle as she listens to whomever is on the other end of the call, but she waves me into one of the chairs across from her desk.
"That sounds wonderful, but I have to go. My interview is here." Her cheeks become flushed, and she shakes her head. "Later," she stresses. "But don't forget what you've said. Love you. Bye."
She ends the call and flashes me a warm smile. "My husband, Elias. Someone you'll get to know if you decide to work here. Come on, let's move to the couch. It's more comfortable."
I follow Quinley to the seating area near the windows, and we settle in.
"I've heard so much about you; I feel like I already know you, Lindsey," Quinley says. "And I've already done a deep dive into your references."
"That was fast."
"I need someone fast. My assistant was fantastic, but she's decided quite abruptly to go on tour as a fill-in guitarist."
"Oh, wow. Anyone I might have heard of?"
Quinley names a popular band. "It's very much a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so I can't blame her for taking it.
But," she says, tapping one perfectly manicured nail on the file she carried with her from the desk, "it means I need to find someone I don't have to train from scratch. And according to this—that's you."
"I'm flattered."
"You've worked on some fantastic campaigns, and I'm sure the experience is invaluable. I'd ask what brought you to Carolina Cove, but I'm guessing Bronwyn has something to do with it?"
I don't want to get into the dirty details of my work life in California, so I nod. "She's my only family, and I'd like to be close by. Especially now. She told me you know that I'm expecting."
"She did. Legally I can't ask—"
"I know," I say, shrugging. "But I'm already wearing a borrowed dress due to the fact I'm showing, so it's not like it's something I can hide.
Or want to. But I'll be a single mom, and while I'm sure it'll take some juggling in the beginning to get into a routine, I am very much interested in this job and working for you.
I've always been independent, and I did a bit of research on your company as well.
I love that it's female focused and allows women-owned companies to be better served in what's been a male-dominated field for so long. "
The conversation shifts into the various aspects of the job requirements, salary and other things.
"You'll work hard," Quinley says, "but I take care of my employees. It's the only way to have a happy, healthy company. And since I know from island gossip you're looking for a place, I'll even offer a sign-on bonus to help get you settled."
"That's very generous of you."
"So is that a yes?"
I grin. "It's a yes. But when would I start?"
"I'd like to say today, but it'll take time to get paperwork and the background check sorted. Plus I'm guessing Bronwyn probably expects you to be around and handy for her wedding this weekend?"
I nod firmly. "She does. I'm opening and running the bookstore until Bronwyn and Gabe get back from their short honeymoon." I tell her the dates.
"It is short, but I'm glad they're taking a few days away."
"Me, too."
"Okay, so let's plan on Monday the following week then. Oh, and here. I forgot to give you this," she says, flipping open the file to remove a sticky note.
"What's this?" I ask, seeing the name of a coffee shop.
"It's the best coffee on the island, and you'll get to know it and my preferences well," Quinley says, smiling.
"I'm totally addicted. But London also has an apartment above the shop, and it's now empty since my last assistant was the one who rented from her.
I thought I'd mention it in case you're still looking. "
"I am. Thank you." I hold the sticky note a little too tight, but how can I not? A job and a potential apartment in one afternoon? Yes, please!
"Perfect. Well, that's all I have. Stop by the front desk on the way out, and Addison can show you to our payroll and accounting person to get things rolling. She'll also handle the bonus because I've already mentioned it to her. Welcome aboard, Lindsey."
We shake hands, and it's a struggle not to dance my way out of the office. The salary Quinley offered was five percent more than I made at my last job and since I wouldn't be paying California prices for everything…
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
It isn't an instant fix. I'm still pregnant, still alone and still one bad day from panic. But it's a start. And right now, a start is enough.
Or it will be—once I stop aching to share my good news with the one man I can't allow myself to call.