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Chapter 25
“Isn’t Grant joining us?” Eleanor stirred the mashed potatoes on the stove and glanced at the clock. “The turkey should be done in less than half an hour.”
“He’s…um, working.” Rory leaned her elbows on the counter and fiddled with her phone.
“The Mousehole is open on Thanksgiving Day?” Henry, Eleanor’s significant other, popped the cork of a wine bottle. “I didn’t know that.”
“No, Grant makes dinner over at the soup kitchen.” Aria took a bunch of silverware from a drawer. “He’s usually there cooking and serving all day.”
“Rory said he was planning to leave a bit early today so he could be here.” Eleanor set the spoon down, her brow furrowing as she looked at her middle daughter. “Did I get that wrong?”
“He’s not coming, Mom.” Rory reached for a piece of cheese from the appetizer platter. “He’s busy.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and turned to check on the turkey. Aria and Callie exchanged glances across the central island.
Rory hitched herself off the stool and went into the living room, where a football game blared from the TV. She flopped down in an easy chair and put her feet on the coffee table.
She’d been looking forward to the refuge of Thanksgiving for days, but now she felt like stone, as if her guard had somehow penetrated to her bones and her heart. Though she knew Grant would beright over therefor as long as she needed, she had to navigate this new chaos without him at her side as her partner-in-crime, her support system, her kindred spirit. She also had no idea how she ever would.
Anyone would call her a fool for turning down the Intellix job. Maybe she was. On the surface, it would have been so easy—out with the old, in with the new.
Joanna was right. She’d have been valued and productive at Edward Taylor’s company. Yes, she’d have had to get past Joanna’s snooping, but that would have been a small price to pay.
Or not. If Grant had submitted to his mother’s interference, he never would have carved his own path or created his own life.
She sighed and rested her head against the back of the chair. She wanted to do the same thing. She’d always known she was an exceptional programmer and tech expert. She could dream up and design innovative programs for many different spaces—medical, home, education—but she’d never believed she could do “anything.” She was too practical for that. She worked, paid her bills, and was grateful for good health benefits.
What did “anything” mean, anyway? She didn’t want to be a different person—she liked being Rory Prescott—but had she kept her life too focused and narrow? Could she have looked beyond a full-time software engineering job to something bigger?
Maybe she’d done that once when she’d created the MedCure program in an effort to strike out on her own, but after the scumbag venture capitalist had shut her down and another company beat her to the market with their software, she’d retreated back into the relative stability of the corporate world.
“You okay?” Callie entered the room with a glass of wine, which she set on the table beside Rory. “You’ve been kind of quiet.”
Rory shrugged. She hadn’t wanted to burden her family with the sordid details of what was going down at Digicore, but she’d told them about the toxic culture and Edward’s offer. “The job has just been more of a challenge than I was anticipating.”
Callie sat on the arm of the sofa, her forehead creasing. “You’ve never backed away from a challenge.”
Rory looked at her older sister, whose path in life had always seemed easy. She knew it hadn’t been—Callie had worked her ass off to get a tenured professor position—but Rory had always admired her sister’s confidence and commitment. In fact, she’d used Callie as an example for how to structure her own career. But the hallowed halls of academia were a lot different from the Wild West of the tech industry.
“The work is the best part,” she finally said. “Unfortunately, the environment can be the worst.”
Callie’s mouth twisted. “All the assholes, huh?”
“Yeah.” Rory plucked at a loose thread on the hem of her T-shirt. “They’ve never made me dislike what I do, but they’ve made me doubt myself. Which I fucking hate.”
“Is that why you stayed in Bliss Cove for so long?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I liked the contract work and being in charge of my own schedule. If I could have gotten benefits and a good, steady salary doing that, then I’d probably still be living here. But the only way I can make a reliable living and advance my career is to work for a corporation. Start-ups are exciting and a lot of fun, but so unpredictable. And stupid as it sounds, ageism hits in the tech industry before forty. I’m a thirty-year-old woman still trying to find the right fit.”
She pushed to her feet in frustration. “So why the hell didn’t I take the job Grant’s father offered me?”
“Because it wasn’t the right fit.” Callie lifted her shoulders. “When I was first looking for jobs out of grad school, I had offers from several universities, including Skyline and Duke. Duke would have been a better career track, but I always knew I wanted to come back to Bliss Cove. So, for me, the right fit wasn’t the more prestigious job.”
Aria came into the room, munching on a raw carrot stick. “Last summer, I found this super cute dress with spaghetti straps on sale for, like, five bucks. First time I wore it, one of the straps broke. Half the bodice slipped down, and I flashed all of Mariposa Street before I managed to pull it back up.Sonot the right fit.”
Rory and Callie both grinned.
“Remember how Dad used to call us Rock, Paper, and Scissors?” Callie stood and squeezed Rory’s arm. “You’re the sharp one who can slice through anything to create something new. So, maybe the reason you haven’t found the right fit is because you shouldn’t be looking for one. Maybe you need to cut your own pattern or material, or…um…”
