Wishing for Wonderful (Serendipity #3)(29)

“Um,” she stuttered, “I’m interested in the copywriter position you advertised.”

She’d barely finished speaking when he shot back, “You got any experience?”

Glancing at her new resume, Lindsay answered, “Yes.” The word came out weaker than she’d hoped for, but at least it was a yes.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Go ahead,” he said, “give me a rundown of your experience.”

“Oh.” Not expecting this turn of events, Lindsay paused for a moment then began picking words off the resume.

“I worked at Gift Industry News,” she said, “and I was responsible for the development and organization of editorial content, proofreading…”

As Lindsay read the words, her confidence seemed to grow. It became fatter and bolder than it had ever been before.

“…and at Seaworthy Insurance, I wrote the documentation for coverage of fishing yachts…”

She continued for almost two minutes and after she’d used up all the words on her new resume, she tossed in the fact that she’d gotten a bachelor’s degree in communications from Rutgers.

“Rutgers alum, huh?” Morrissey said. His voice now had a considerably more friendly sound. “I’m Rutgers too.” He went on to say that to his way of thinking the football lineup for the coming season meant several sure wins.

“I think so too,” Lindsay replied, even though she hadn’t read a word about the Rutgers football team in more than four years.

Morrissey mentioned the names of two players he figured for a lot of promise, and then he asked Lindsay if she could come in at two o’clock for an interview.

“Yes, sir,” she answered. “Yes, sir, Mister Morrissey. I’ll be there…”





When she hung up the telephone, Lindsay spent twenty minutes on the Rutgers website researching the past four years of football performance and then spent another ten minutes looking at stats for the basketball team in case Morrissey happened to be a fan of that sport also. When the stats of one season began to collide with stats of another, she turned off the computer and got dressed.

Lindsay wore her good navy blue suit. It was wool and a bit warm for the day but definitely more business-like than anything else she owned. She left the house at five minutes after eleven but didn’t go directly to the Genius Advertising office. Instead she drove to Heavenly Acres Animal Rescue Center.

“I’d like to look into adopting a dog,” Lindsay told the woman behind the counter. Then she described the dog she was looking for. Growing more uncertain as to what she’d seen or not seen, Lindsay hedged her words and mentioned that she thought she’d seen this particular dog in the Sunday newspaper advertisement.

“Oh.” The woman smiled. “That dog is still here.” She led Lindsay into a back room with rows of cages. “This is him,” the woman said, pointing to a beagle.

Lindsay sighed. “That’s a beagle. I’m not looking for a beagle.” She went on to again describe the dog: small, scraggly, sad eyes.

The woman shook her head. “Can’t say I recall having such a dog, but we’ve got nineteen cats. One of them is a Himalayan with the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. You think you might want a cat?”

Lindsay answered no and explained that she was looking for one particular dog. She again described the dog and gave the woman her telephone number in case such a dog should show up.

~

If you were to ask Lindsay why it was she wanted that one particular dog, she’d be unable to tell you. That’s the beauty of what I do. I make love unexplainable. Humans fall in love with someone and claim it’s because of a special smile or the crinkle around their lover’s eyes, but the truth is they’re clueless about the magic that brings such thoughts. The only one who knows the secret of pairing up lovers is me. Well, me and The Boss. He knows everything.

~

At ten minutes before two, Lindsay pulled into the Cherry Hill parking lot in front of the address Morrissey had given her. It was an office park with a dozen or so buildings, each of them surrounded by several others that appeared identical. She crossed the lot, double-checked the building number, and then walked into the lobby. A glance at the directory told her Genius Advertising was the only tenant on the second floor.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed two. When the door opened, she sank into a burgundy carpet so soft it was like walking on a cloud. In the center of the room a receptionist who looked to be Eleanor’s age sat behind the mahogany desk.

“Are you here for an interview?” the woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lindsay nodded.

Handing a clipboard across the desk, the woman said, “Fill out the application. Mister Morrissey will be with you shortly.”

Shortly turned out to be nearly a half hour. During that time a young woman carrying a portfolio came out, crossed the reception room and disappeared down the elevator. Minutes after she left, a round red-faced man walked out.

“Lindsay Gray?” he asked.

She stood, extended her hand, shook his and then followed him through a maze of cubicles to where his office was located.

Once seated in front of his desk, Lindsay proudly handed over her new resume.

“Thank you for seeing me, sir,” she said. “I appreciate the opportunity, Mister Morrissey.”