Georgia on Her Mind(68)

Chapter Twenty-Nine




“Hello.” His tone is intimate.

My limbs go weak and I hold on to the counter. My pulse is doing the salsa and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Feeling woozy, I reach for the saltines. “How are you?”

“I’m good. And you?” he asks.

Crackers are a bad idea. “Fine,” I mutter, spewing cracker dust, fumbling for a glass of water.

“How was Chicago?”

“Umm.” I take a gulp of water. “Great.”

“You think you’ll take the job?”

The rhythm of my heart slows a little. “Thinking I might.”

“You have a second to talk about the reunion?” Ah, the true point of Dylan’s call. I’m disappointed. I don’t know what I wanted the call to be about, but I can guarantee I didn’t want it to be about the reunion.

“Okay.”

“If you take the Chicago job, will you still be able to emcee?”

Well, Macy, there you go—your chance to resign just waltzed in. But deep down, I don’t want to say no. “I’m sure I can make the weekend.”

“Good.”

I shove my hair away from my face. Maybe it’s the fast, maybe it’s Dylan, or maybe it’s the anticipation of Wendy’s, but I’m trembling and ready to bare my soul.

“Dylan, I’m a failure. You should know. I’m not the big success you and Joley think I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

I let the tears come. “I got fired from Casper, my boyfriend dumped me for another girl, and my bank account is empty. It’s June already and my credit card is still maxed with Christmas cheer. And the only reason Myers-Smith wants me is because I worked for Casper, their competition.”

I sniffle and wipe away tears with the bottom of my shirt.

“So what?” He exudes confidence the way most people exude fear or insecurity.

“So what?” I parrot. “What does all that spell, Dylan? Failure.”

“No, it doesn’t. Not for the Macy Moore I know. Isn’t she the one who turns lemons into lemonade?”

“That is so corny I’m tempted to hang up on you.”

He laughs. A sound I like a lot. “Don’t hang up,” he says. “Look at all the new opportunities you have now. Pioneering a new career just like you did ten years ago. The thrill of finding a new love, and joys of learning to live on a budget.”

Now he’s got me laughing. “I guess you’re right. But finding a new love?” I move to a kitchen chair. “Last time I went fishing, there weren’t many biting.”

“Maybe you’re fishing in the wrong pond.” There’s no missing the smile in his voice.

“What pond do you recommend?”

“I hear they’re biting just fine in Beauty.”

His comment rockets my heart right out the top of my head. “You don’t say?” My knees go soft.

“Scout’s honor.”

“Next time I’m in Beauty, I’ll have to check it out.”

“You should.”

Well, I’m stumped. Since I don’t know where else to go with the pond thing, I steer back to the reunion. “So, in light of all I just confessed, you still want me to be the emcee?”

“Absolutely.”

His confidence gives me courage. If my classmates whisper behind their hands about the Most Likely To Succeed failing, then so be it. Whatever doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.

Whoever came up with that slogan obviously wasn’t dying at the time.

“Good. And, hey, just to clarify, you know what I meant when I said they’re biting in Beauty, right?”

“Just to clarify, why don’t you tell me what you meant?” I go over to the refrigerator with my water glass. This ought to be good.

“Me, perhaps.”

I drop my glass. It crashes to the floor, but doesn’t break. Water runs under my bare feet. If I’d had socks on, he’d have blown them off. “You?”

“Yeah, me. But we can talk about that some other time. Just wanted you to know there’s at least one fish in Beauty waiting to be hooked.”

I’m almost undone by his brazen honesty. “Good to know. What kind of worms does the fish like?”

He laughs. “Ones that come from Melbourne.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Are you considering your dad’s partnership offer?”

I swallow hard. “You know about that?”

“Your dad and I golf once a week together.”

Dad golfs? How did I not know that? “You and Dad?”

“He’s a good friend.”

“What do you think I should do?” I hadn’t planned on asking him, but now that I have, I really want his input.

“Ah, Macy, don’t ask me. I’m prejudiced.”

Can a girl fall in love over the phone? I think I am. “Tell me anyway. I want to know.”

“Return to Beauty, Macy.”

“What did you say?”

“I said return to Beauty.”

His answer raises the hair on my arms, and goose bumps run down my spine. “A friend of mine said the exact same thing to me last night.”