Georgia on Her Mind(54)
The phone’s ring interrupts Drag’s question.
“Excuse me,” I say, reaching for the portable on the coffee table. “Hello?”
“Ms. Moore?”
“Yes.” The voice is not familiar.
“Steve Albright from Myers-Smith in New York.”
I leap off the couch. “How are you?”
“My apologies for taking so long to get back to you.”
“That’s all right.” I motion just a minute to Drag. I walk to the stairs and sit on the bottom step.
“Our human resources manager is no longer with us.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I respond for lack of anything better.
“So was he.”
I bite back a laugh. Poor Bob.
“Anyway,” Steve continues, “I hear you interviewed in jeans and impressed the New York office.”
I stand. All the blood drains from my brain. “What?” The word is weak and wispy.
“We’d like you to take a look at a job in our Chicago office. Director of customer service. It’s a smaller operation than New York, but the Midwest market is booming right now. The department would be yours to run.” He rattles off a potential salary, plus bonus, that knocks me back down on my derriere.
“I’m interested.” My head is spinning.
“You okay?” Drag asks, low and sincere.
I nod and give him the just-a-minute sign again.
“Can you interview in Chicago the week of the twelfth? Sorry to wait so long, but Human Resources is being reorganized.”
“The twelfth is fine.” In fact, perfect. Right before the dreaded Beauty High reunion. That emcee job might not be so bad in this new light.
Welcome our emcee, Macy Moore, corporate director for Myers-Smith Webware.
Steve Albright and I talk dates and times. No need to jot it down or whip out my PDA—this information is forever engraved on my brain.
Steve confirms that his office will e-mail me an e-ticket from Melbourne to Chicago and the hotel information.
“I look forward to meeting you,” he says.
“Same here. Thank you.”
I press End. The phone dangles from my limp hand. I’m shaking.
“Good news or bad? I can’t tell. Your face is white, but you’re smiling.” Drag watches me with a half grin.
I toss the phone onto the coffee table. “They want me to interview for the director position in the Chicago office. Chicago.” I mute my squeal, but my insides are all swirly.
“Congratulations.” Drag raps his knuckles on the table again.
I feel like calling someone. Lucy. Dad. Chris. Roni Karpinski. How do you like me now, Attila?
But Drag is here. Talking about the Bible and Jesus. Right. I come to my senses and plop next to my neighbor on the couch. “Enough about me. Now, what do you want to know?”
Drag’s knuckle-knocking slows. “Is He for real?” No fooling around with this guy.
“Who? Jesus? Yes, He is.”
“You’re confident.” Drag draws back, but his blue eyes are wide with wonder.
“Drag, you know everyone bets their life on something.”
“True.”
“For you, it’s the next great wave. For my ex-boyfriend, it’s the bull market.” I catch my own wave and hang on for the ride to shore.
“My father lived for the bull market.”
“And what did it get him?”
“A heart attack.” Drag collapses against my couch and chews on the tip of his thumb.
“Jesus is the only way to true peace, the only sure thing,” I say.
“To believe or not to believe. That is the question.” Drag recites his own Shakespearean prose.
“Exactly.” I tap my hand on his leg.
He gives me a small grin while still nibbling on his thumb. I have a profound thought and am about to share it when, of course, the phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Dinner?” Lucy asks with fabled familiarity.
“Absolutely.”
“Be there in a few hours.” I hear Lucy’s remote key beep and her car door pop open. “I’ll pick up something.”
“Jack coming?” Why I bother asking I’ll never know. Jack and Lucy are synonyms.
“If you don’t mind.”
I face Drag. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“Do I like to surf?” His Goofy laugh rolls out.
“Right.” I nod. “Drag’s joining us.”
“Drag? What’s he doing there?”
“I’ll let him tell you.”
“Macy…” she says in her what-have-you-done-now tone.
“Bye.” I press End. It’s then I realize this business with Drag completely eclipsed my Chicago, Myers-Smith excitement.
I’ll meditate on that later. For now, it’s back to Drag, Jesus and signing up for a spot in eternity.
“So, where were we?” I prod him.
“Believing or not believing.” Drag sighs, then says, “I believe, Macy. I just wish I could see.”
“Ah, that’s what faith is all about. You must see with the eyes of your heart. You can’t see the wind, you can’t see love, but you know those things are real.”