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“What? He can’t do that. Wait until I send your father over there. I’m sure there’s some sort of legal recourse...” she said, clearly fired up.
Tears started falling, despite my best effort to keep them tucked away. Here my parents were, having to fight my battles for me again.
“Tillie, come on, it’s okay,” Mom said, changing course and wrapping me in a hug as she backtracked from her anger. “Things are just rough right now. But you know what they say about rock bottom.”
Those two words made me cry more.
“Listen, I’ll talk to Jacques today. I’m sure I can get you in at the hotel despite the Carl situation.”
I wanted to say no way. I wanted to shake off the image of me in a bellhop suit (even though they didn’t even use those at The Sea Escape Hotel). I wanted to shove away the fear that in thirty years, I’d be standing behind that desk dead inside. But the truth was, I didn’t have many options. I’d made my choice. I’d taken the risks. And now, here I was. Maybe being a dreamer wasn’t all it seemed to be, and maybe all the inspirational podcasts got it wrong. Going after your dreams didn’t always leave you up in the clouds or in the company of the stars, did it?
Maybe my parents were right and all you could really cling to, really count on, was stability. Boring, steadfast stability.
Still, I thought then about what Grace had said. I thought about the coffee shop dream that was still in my heart. It felt impossible. But then Leo’s story buzzed in my head, too. Maybe he was also right. Maybe one failed coffee shop didn’t have to be the end of the dream.
“I’m going to my room to do some work for now,” I said.
“On what?” Mom asked. She smiled at me. I knew she wouldn’t judge me. But I wasn’t ready to tell her, or more importantly, to tell my dad.
“Just a few ideas I have,” I said.
“That’s my dreamer girl. There’s that never-quit attitude. Okay. I’m off to work, and I’ll let you know what Jacques says. But keep that beautiful chin up, Tillie. Rock bottom isn’t forever.”
I didn’t quite believe her, but I would have to fake it for a little bit. I headed to my room and my laptop, where I started making some lists.
***
THE SKIRT WAS A LITTLE tight, and the jacket had shoulder pads because it was so outdated. I hadn’t been to an interview since I was eighteen, when I’d tried for that one office job in New York City. I cringed thinking about how I’d left it beet red and tripping over my words.
I pulled the skirt down, staring at the fluffy bow on the neck that Mom told me felt very Paris-like. The beige outfit, though, made me feel like a sad bowl of oatmeal. But I told myself I had no choice. The coffee shop dream was fun, but it was a dream that wouldn’t pay the bills right now. Mom had talked to Jacques, who agreed to interview me later that afternoon. I grabbed my crutches and phone, telling myself it was the wise choice. I could always work on my coffee shop dream on the side.
Still, a part of me was dying because I knew that would never happen. To be successful in business, you had to give it your all. I felt like I was taking the safe way out but also the soul-crushing way out. I shook the thoughts off, though. What choice did I have?
Pickles rubbed my leg, and I reached down to scratch him. I’d do what I had to do. I always did. After giving myself the pep talk I needed, I prepped myself for the ride to the hotel with Mom, sure to be peppered with overly excited chatter about possibilities, opportunities, and the smart choice I was making. But just as I was getting ready to head out the door, my phone rang.
“Hey, you. What’s going on today?” Leo’s voice said. “Are you thinking beach? Bar? Bakery? Somewhere else?”
I sighed. “I can’t today,” I said, thinking any of those choices felt like a great option compared to what I was doing.
“Why? What’s going on? You sound a little sad.” I was slightly endeared and, honestly, slightly perturbed he could tell just from those few words.
“I have an interview,” I admitted.
“Wait, what?” he asked. “Where?”
“The Sea Escape Hotel. My mom got me in. Tino replaced me.”
“The hotel? Are you sure?”
“Well, I’m in my beige suit and all ready to go,” I said, eyeing the bow again in the mirror and shaking my head.
“Tillie, come on. We’ve talked about this. The hotel isn’t your dream. You should be working on that coffee shop.”
“I can’t. I need a job to support myself,” I said.
“Money isn’t everything,” he replied, and the anger bubbled over.
“How would you know that?” I snarked back, a little angrier than I’d intended. Still, it was true. It was easy for him to say that money didn’t matter or that a job wasn’t worth it. He didn’t have to worry about things like bills and trying to buy an apartment.
