Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(5)

Even before the interview was finished Libby knew she wasn’t a contender. In the months since she’d left Burkhart, Smith & Crandall she’d developed a sixth sense about her chances. Two or three times she knew she was in the running. Second and even third interviews followed, and yet it was always the same outcome. Sorry, another time. Close, but no cigar.

“How’s the office?” Libby asked. Her one lingering hope was that Hershel and the other partners would recognize their mistake and ask her to return. Four months ago, if they had, she would’ve taken pleasure in laughing in their faces and telling them to take a flying leap into some cow pile. Over the last several weeks, though, her attitude had softened considerably. She wanted to work. She needed to work. She couldn’t take this endless battle of building herself up for the next interview only to be dashed against the rocks of self-doubt and frustration.

“I was so hoping it would work out this time,” Sarah continued.

Libby had been, too.

“Don’t get discouraged,” Sarah said.

“I won’t.” Yeah, like that was possible. She felt beaten down and defeated and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Gotta scoot.”

“Bye.” Her paralegal’s calls weren’t as frequent as they’d been the first month. In fact, these days it was usually Libby who contacted Sarah. The paralegal was busy and preoccupied, and their conversations were short. Libby knew that Sarah found it difficult working for Ben Holmes. She’d gladly follow Libby to another law firm given the opportunity.

What she needed, Libby decided, was a break. She hadn’t been to Spokane since Christmas two years ago. Hadn’t seen her father or stepmother in that long. Libby got along fine with Charlene, the woman her father had married when she was a high school senior. Their relationship was warm. Charlene was pleasant enough, but she had no intention of mothering Libby, which was fine by her. Libby held on to the memories of her mother and worked hard to live up to the potential Molly had seen in her.

Unfortunately, Libby had never been particularly close to her father. He was a civilian working for the air force as a computer analyst and had always been distant. The small family had gotten their first emotional hit when Libby’s older brother, Timmy, was killed while riding his bike when he was ten. A drunk driver had hit him and then sped away. Her father had taken the tragic death of his son especially hard. Although Libby was only vaguely aware of it, Timmy’s death had put a strain on her parents’ marriage. Then her mother had been diagnosed with cancer.

Robert Morgan seemed to close himself off from life after his son’s death. In many ways that drunk driver had claimed more than her brother’s life; he’d destroyed their family. Her mother and father were never the same. Gone were the days when her father would laugh and tease her. As a child Libby had loved it when her father would pick her up and twirl her around and around. She couldn’t remember him playing with her again after they lost Timmy.

When it was just the two of them, Robert and Libby rarely even spoke. The day she was admitted into the National Honor Society, her father hadn’t come to the school for the presentation. He hadn’t taken pictures of her and her date for the high school senior prom the way other parents did, and for her birthday and Christmas he gave her cash. He simply didn’t seem to care. Still, he was family. Her only family.

It was her mother Libby missed—now more than ever. She longed to burrow into her mother’s arms and be comforted by her warm embrace, just as she’d done when Libby was young and frightened. Her mother had always found a way to cheer her. In first grade, when Libby hadn’t gotten an invitation to a birthday party, her mother had taken her to a fancy restaurant for tea. They’d worn special hats and gloves and dined on cucumber sandwiches. All these years after her mother’s death, Libby still missed her hugs and the notes her mother used to write and tuck into her sack lunch.

Reaching for her phone, Libby looked up the Spokane number for her father on her contacts list, a sad commentary all on its own. Charlene answered on the third ring.

“Hello, Libby,” she said, sounding pleased to hear from her.

They spoke for a few moments, exchanging pleasantries before Libby asked, “I was wondering if you and Dad have plans this weekend? I thought I might drive over for a visit.”

Charlene hesitated. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, sure. I just need a change of pace.” What she needed was purpose, something to do other than sit around the condo and slowly go insane.

“You aren’t working yet?”

“Not yet.” The words nearly stuck in her throat. She felt like such a loser.

“What you need is a little TLC,” Charlene murmured sympathetically. “Come visit and I’ll make you comfort food. I’ve got a new macaroni and cheese recipe I’ve been meaning to try.”

“I don’t need macaroni and cheese,” Libby cried on the tail end of a hysterical laugh. “I need cottage cheese.”

“Oh dear, have you gained weight?”

“It’s the ice cream,” Libby lamented. Late nights with Jay Leno and the featured flavor of the month were the culprits. With no reason to go to bed, she was often up until one or two in the morning. Libby knew she should quit the nighttime snacks, but she couldn’t discipline herself to do it. Her comforts were few. Until the last few months Libby had had no idea how consoling ice cream could be to a troubled heart and mind.