Page 99 of Home Is Where You Are

“Hi, Miss Courtright. I’m Sampson Lundry. Thank you for coming in today. Why don’t we head over to the conference room to start the interview,” he suggested as he smiled down at me.

I followed him to the conference room, where several leather seats were strategically placed around the massive table.

He asked me if I’d like anything to drink, which I politely declined before we took our seats.

I placed my purse in the seat beside me and my hands in my lap as I waited for him to begin.

He took a folder out of a briefcase I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying and rifled through it before he found the documents he sought.

“This interview is just a formality. The head of our Virginia office raved about you after the interview. I’m sorry it took us so long to get back to you, but I’ve been out of the country on business and just returned a few weeks ago. I noticed on your resume that you were from Texas and thought you’d be a perfect fit,” he said from across the table.

“Thank you for your consideration. I moved back to Texas after graduation,” I stated, unsure of how to respond when his statement hadn’t included a question.

“At Lundry Media, we love finding new talent fresh out of college. I feel that’s when people are most creative and striving to find where they fit in. You fit the bill. Your slideshow presentation that you presented showed an impressive skill, and you used out of the box methods to show how a company can grow using the latest technology and social media. Where did you get the inspiration for the presentation?”

I’d forgotten all about that presentation. We were asked during the first round of interviews after we were selected for a second to come prepared with a presentation on how to show growth within a startup company. I’d just so happened to get a selection that I was most familiar with, albeit it was for a destination property, not a ranch, but the same concepts could be homed in on that company based on their accommodations.

“I grew up on a dude ranch that my grandfather built from the ground up in our small town. It’s thrived over the years and is now under the supervision of my father. I just thought about how I’d want the ranch to grow and used some of the concepts I’d implement there and tailored them to fit that company’s needs,” I confidently responded.

The more I thought back on that presentation, the more I realized how excited I was to present it. How I’d used the passion I felt in taking over the ranch’s marketing someday, but I hadn’t delved into the why of it all then. I could only see my escape. As I sat here across from this man, it was like a tidal wave hit me all at once. I could put so much passion into that presentation because I was so passionate about my family’s ranch. I wanted it to succeed, and bringing the marketing up to date and implementing some of the strategies in this very presentation, I could see the ranch thriving even more in the coming months.

He asked a few more questions which I confidently answered, but my thoughts were still stuck back at the ranch, and I couldn’t get out of this interview fast enough.

“I know this may be an odd question, but have we met before?” he asked as he leaned back into his seat. I didn’t miss the way his eyes scoured my face and drifted down to my cleavage. It was subtle, and if I wasn’t hyperaware, I’d have missed the entire thing.

I studied him much more thoroughly as I wracked my brain, and that was when it hit me. His voice sounded so familiar, and now I knew why. I felt my face heat with embarrassment as I recalled just where I’d seen him before. Just as I was about to reveal how we’d met, his eyes widened with recognition.

“You were at the airport a few weeks ago, weren’t you?” he asked as he clicked the pen in his hand.

“Guilty as charged,” I joked, still embarrassed by our entire encounter.

“It’s a small world,” he replied. Not small enough to where I ran into the one person I never thought I’d see again so I wouldn’t have to relive that embarrassment.

The embarrassing moment forgotten, he went on to describe what the job would entail and that I’d be working directly under him. I didn’t know how I felt about that. While the position sounded amazing and I knew I’d excel at it, my gut told me to run as far away as I could.

“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked as the interview neared its end.

“No, you answered them all in your thorough explanation of the position,” I replied, ready to leave this conference room and Sampson Lundry behind.

He stood, and I thanked him for his time. He told me he had a few more interviews that day, but I’d hear from them soon with a decision. I’d been so conflicted while I was in Virginia and wanted one of the companies I’d interviewed with to give me a yes so badly, but now I could see my future clearly.

I drove to my therapy appointment, trying to keep my mind on anything other than having to open my soul to the therapist. I wanted to give this an honest chance, and I knew therapy could help me move past the trauma of losing our daughter; I just had a hard time expressing my emotions on a good day let alone to a stranger.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot. Before I could talk myself out of going inside, I parked and immediately got out of the vehicle.

You can do this, Ainsleigh.

I repeated that mantra to myself the entire walk to the building which seemed to take forever. My legs felt heavy with each step that brought me closer to my destination. I wouldn’t say my last therapist was bad. He was nice and genuine. I just wasn’t ready to open up to anyone. The pain then was still too fresh and raw, and the mere thought of speaking my trauma aloud sent me into a panic.

I checked in with the receptionist and took in the waiting room. Portraits of the ocean covered the walls, giving a serene feeling, instantly calming my nerves. I stared at one, a woman with a white dress standing at the shore, the waves crashing upon her feet, as she spread her arms and looked toward the sky. I wasn’t sure what drew me to this portrait. I couldn’t see the woman’s face to gauge her expression, but it brought feelings of peace and freedom, like she was giving her pain to the waves to wash them away.

Hearing my name called brought me out of my trance, and I turned toward a middle-aged woman who smiled at me as I walked over to her. She reached out her hand, and on auto pilot I placed my hand in hers. Her hand was soft and warm as I shook it lightly, pulling away once the appropriate amount of time passed.

“Welcome, Miss Courtright. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sit anywhere you feel comfortable,” she said as we walked inside. She shut the door behind us.

The walls were painted light blue, more ocean scenery hung on the walls, a wooden desk sat on the back wall in front of floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and each shelf full to the brim with books. Two chairs sat facing the desk, a table in between them. A couch sat in the middle of the room, and a coffee table separated the couch and the two chairs that sat across from it.

I walked over to the couch and sat, taking my purse off my shoulder and placing it beside me. She sat across from me after she grabbed a notebook from her desk. I shifted nervously, not sure if I should wait for her to begin or just start speaking.