I think I might be getting off scot-free when the bill comes and the conversation unfortunately turns to me.
“Mom said you’re working at a clam place?” James asks, leaning into the table.
Clam place?“It’s an oyster farm,” I correct. “And I’m the Social Media Director. It’s a contract job.”
He waves me off. “Clams. Oysters. Same thing.”
“Aren’t details supposed to matter in your profession?”
A cocky grin he never used to have in high school pops up. “The important ones.”
Mom swirls the remainder of her wine. “Well, the good thing about contract gigs is that they’re easy to get out of when a better opportunity comes along.”
“They’re legally binding, Mom. The wordcontractis in the name.” I look to James for support.
My brother simply shrugs. “But who’s really going to sue if you leave a few weeks early?”
So much for support.
“If there’s someone capable of suing in Garnet Shores,it’s my employer.” Anson Gold’s wrath is the last thing I ever wish to encounter.
“Well, as soon as James passes the Bar, we’ll have a lawyer who’ll put him in his place,” Mom replies, unbothered.
I glance between the two of them, struck silent.
They really expect me to up and leave the farm the second an opportunity from Suzanne comes through. Never mind all the other reasons I left the city, or the commitment I’ve made to the Gold brothers, or my rental contract for that boat.
Then again, why am I surprised?
“I’m not leaving until my contract is up,” I state.
“Now that would be foolish.” Mom sets down her wine glass. “An employer might need you to start within days of your hiring, two weeks at most.”
“I’ll inform them I can’t start until late August.”
Dad watches me from their side as Mom scoffs. “Honey, I understand why you might think you can do that, but that’s silly. Impressions matter, and that sets a bad one.”
“Commitment matters, too.”
She drops all pretense then, voice turning stern as she says, “What you’re doing? Right now? That is not the real world, Eliza. You need to get back there as soon as you can, or you’ll be left behind.”
As if I haven’t already thought that. That blame, the feelings that I’m not doing enough, that I’m falling behind, have been a constant undercurrent since I fled the city.
It onlyjuststarted to fade. Probably because I’ve finally accepted my current circumstances, and my social strategy is driving genuine growth at Gold’s. Or maybe it’s that, for the first time in my career, I’m…enjoying my days.
There’s the sunrises and swims. The pride of achievingresults all on my own. The fact that I can wear an old sweatshirt to work and don’t have to be so stiffly professional all the time. The man who spars with me like no colleague ever would and trapped me against a desk in the most unprofessional way.
Unprofessional.There’s one of Grayson’s new adjectives.
Mom’s criticism is still unanswered, and she takes that as an invitation to drive her point home. “All the time and energy you’ve invested in yourself, all the hard work you put in at school—it deserves more thanthis.” The hard edge in her tone buffs out, and it sounds like loving concern when she says, “You’re experiencing a hiccup. Don’t let it derail everything you’ve worked toward.”
She’s being overdramatic.
That’s what I want to think.
But instead, the truth in her words slithers into my eager doubts. I might be in Garnet Shores for the summer, but I’m still Eliza Attleburn.
“It won’t,” I say confidently, and she settles back in her chair. “It’s only temporary.”
