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I sigh and heft the box up, resting it against my hip. It's not terribly heavy, since I don't keep too many personal things at my desk. A pie of the day tear-off calendar, backup chargers for my phone and laptop, some mints in a fancy tin, and a few envelopes addressed to me. Most likely little notecards from clients.
If this is the grand total of the last half-year, then I guess I get it. Maybe I wasn't as invested in this job as I wanted to be. If I'm being honest, Tasha's not wrong. My expertise doesn't exactly jive with their aesthetic.
So maybe this is a good thing, I think.
I hear Nana Jo's voice in my ear, reminding me to always leave things better than you found them.
Internally, I nod my agreement with her. The Pine Valley Design firm taught me a lot of things about myself and my skill. But also about interior design and how to figure out what someone needs when they can't articulate it themselves.
And for that, I'm grateful.
With my head held high, I turn around and cross the office toward the elevator bank. I bid everyone farewell and offer pleasantries and generic well wishes. Some people offer to grab coffee or lunch, but they're empty plans. Ones I wouldn't cash in on anyway, so I just nod and smile with as much grace as I can muster.
The elevator door closes at the same time my phone rings. I juggle the box for a second as I dig my phone out of my pocket—the best part of this dress outside of the romantic sleeves, if you ask me—and see the name of someone who always brings a smile to my face.
I answer it on the third ring. “Hello, my favorite cousin.”
“Hey,” Coraline says. “Just calling to make sure you're on the road okay. You should've let Graham drop me off last night. Then you wouldn't have to drive home alone.”
I smirk at the word home. “You mean the flat you share with three roommates?”
She tsks, the sound sharp in my ear. “I meantRosewood, Eve.”
She says Rosewood likeduh, and I chuckle.
“And besides, it's not so bad. And my flat is definitely better than Beau and Graham's place and their endless parade of half-naked women. I love my brothers, but there are things a sister should never have to see.Or hear.”
I can hear the heavy exhale down the line, followed by a sharp tsk. My cousin's words hang in the air like a lingering scent, and I couldn't help but gain some comfort from them. Even if they were laced with disgust. Her melodramatic commentary never fails to amuse me, and the corners of my lips turn up for the second time during the phone call.
“It's only a few hours, and you know I don't mind driving. I like to take the scenic route to Rosewood. It's . . . I don't know, peaceful. Having full control over the music, windows down and wind in my hair. Singing show tunes and Taylor Swift as loud as I want.”
“God, you and those goddamn musicals,” she says on a groan. “I love you, but I don't know if I can sit through three hours of the same tenHamiltonsongs over and over again.”
A loud chuckle bursts from my lips at her mock disapproval. “Oh, puh-lease. Don't act like you weren't belting out the chorus with me!”
She clicks her tongue, but it's all teasing. “I know, but it's more fun if I can give you shit about it. I'm just excited to have you here for the weekend.” She chokes on a breath. “God, that sounds terrible, all things considered. But I miss you, and I'm glad you'll be here, with me . . .”
Her voice fades to the background when the elevator pings and the doors open to the parking garage. A faint smile tugs up the corners of my mouth as I have a literal lightbulb moment of clarity.
I found a silver lining.
“Yeah, about that,” I interrupt her spiral. “I think I'm going to need something a little more permanent in Rosewood.”
“What? Why? Did they give you extended bereavement leave or something?”
I shake my head and spot my car down the row. “No, I got fired.”
She inhales sharply. “Oh my god,” she grits through clenched teeth. “I'm going to kill those pretentious—”
I sigh. “It's fine, really.”
Her immediate indignation is balm to the bruise on my ego. My boss wasn't wrong. Pine Valley Design is coveted for their coastal influence. And while I'd like to think I can deliver any style a customer wants, coastal is definitely not my sweet spot.
“No, it's definitely not fine. Who the hell fires someone on their way to their grandma's will reading?” Her voice gets louder and louder as she goes, her pitch just shy of shrill by the end.
“Pine Valley Design,” I deadpan.
There's a beat of quiet before both of us chuckle, a resigned sort of amusement.
