Georgia on Her Mind(38)

A few seconds later I hear “Peyton Danner.” Now, that’s the voice of a woman who owns her world.

“Peyton, this is Macy Moore.”

“Well, at last. It’s easier to run into you in the Atlanta airport than get you on the phone.” She laughs, low and friendly. I exhale and relax. “Your résumé is stellar, Macy.”

“Thank you.” I wonder if I should tell her the truth about how my credentials got cyberspaced into her e-mail box. I decide against. Only if she asks.

“What’s going on at Casper?” Peyton asks.

“I’m glad you asked.” I stall while formulating an intelligent answer. How do I tell the truth without sounding like a kid who can’t play hardball with the big boys? “I’ve been at Casper for ten years. It’s time to expand my horizons.”

She laughs. “Listen, I know Veronica Karpinski. You should have left Casper years ago.”

“No time like the present.” Nice, safe answer.

“Casper doesn’t have you locked in with a noncompete clause, do they?” I can hear Peyton flipping through papers.

“No, actually, they don’t.” Excitement hits me.

“I’m sure you’re aware of a company called Myers-Smith Webware?”

“I’m very aware.” In the bottom of those red boots my toes tingle.

“They are looking for a director of customer service to work in the New York or Chicago office. They haven’t decided, but I faxed over your résumé.”

I sit in the nearest chair. “Fascinating,” I croak.

“That’s what they said about you, Macy. Can you interview in two weeks?”

What did Jillian write on my résumé? “Name the day and time.” I can ask Mike for a couple more vacation days.

“You’ll interview at the New York office.”

I slap my hand to my forehead and mouth a silent thankyou toward heaven. Director. Interview in New York.

Peyton rattles off some details, none of which I remember, but I say yes and mumble mmm-hmm to all of them.

“Tell you what—I’ll confirm it all in an e-mail.”

“That’d be great.”

Walking back to my office, I realize the dark clouds of gloom, despair and agony are gone. The sun has broken over my life. Perhaps everything that happened the past few months is God’s way of kicking me out of my comfort zone. Do I know New York is it? No, but I’m at peace with the journey.



“Knock, knock,” I say outside Roni’s office. It’s a minute after five o’clock. Her head is bent near Mike’s, and she jumps away at the sound of my voice.

“Macy, come in.” Roni pulls out a chair for me and closes the door. Sigh. Another closed door. She remains standing, hands clasped together. Mike sits like a puppet in the corner.

“Macy, as you know, employee and employer relationships don’t always work out as we intend.” Roni pauses, waiting for me to respond, but I keep my mouth closed.

“We—” she motions to Mike “—don’t feel you are a fit with our company direction.”

“What do you mean?” My stomach knots.

She clasps her hands at her waist. “We simply feel you’d be happier elsewhere. Casper is just not a fit for you anymore.” She tilts her head to one side as if to show sympathy.

“That little office you crammed me into seems like a nice fit, don’t you think?” Sarcasm—it becomes me.

Roni shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Macy.”

“No, you’re not, Roni. Two months ago I’m manager of customer service and today I’d be happier somewhere else? How do you know what is best for me, what would make me happy?”

“Sometimes things don’t work out.” Mike jumps in, clicking the push button of his pen over and over.

I protest. “You’ve got to give me more than this. What’s going on?”

“It’s like I said—we feel you’d be happier somewhere else.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Peyton Danner, does it?”

“No, no,” they say in unison, a well-rehearsed chorus.

For a half a minute I regard her and eyeball him. I’m speechless. “I’ll get my things.” I stand and to my surprise, feel amazing relief.

Mike hands me a folder as I hit the doorway. “Your severance.”

Twenty minutes later I walk out of Casper & Company for the final time. The day is ending, but I think my life is just beginning.

Tossing the box of knickknacks, pictures and souvenirs into the trunk of the Beemer, I smile, pop the top and head for the beach.



Six-thirty Tuesday evening Lucy calls. “You’re coming, right?”

“Of course,” I say, then ask, “To what?”

“House of Joe’s. Tuesday. Single Saved Sisters.”

Ah! It is Tuesday? “Right. I’ll be there.”

“What have you been doing all day?”

“Relaxing.” More like lamenting, but she doesn’t need to know. I may have felt relief yesterday when leaving Casper, but reality hit me today. I’m unemployed. Axed. Fired.

Guess that’s why I’m still in my pajamas and the verticals are closed. I’ve spent five hundred dollars on QVC—and that’s with practicing restraint. But when Leslie from Bare Escentuals showed up with her new spring beauty line, my day found its destiny.