Tumble (Dogwood Lane #1)(66)
I shake my head to focus. “Can I also point out that Lynne stole my ideas and no one thought anything about that? And that it’s taken this long for you to even realize I’m gone?”
“That’s not true, Neely. Your resignation came to my desk the day after it was filed.”
“And my contributions to the company weren’t enough for you to call me before now?” I ask. “I gave everything I had to that company, Frank. I gave it my all for a very long time. And then this happens, and I’ll admit, I’m not really feeling valued.”
“I’ll shoulder the blame for that as well. Your name has been on a sticky note since the day I realized you were gone. I originally thought it was a two-week notice, which would’ve had you still here or close to it. I didn’t realize at the time it was effective immediately.” He blows out a breath. “I’m in over my head here, Neely. We’re trying to do a lot of things, trying to break down those doors you talk about all the time. But I can’t do it without someone who feels as passionately about it as you do. Come back. Help us. Let’s make a dent in this industry.”
Those words are all I’ve wanted to hear since I stood in my cap and gown and received my diploma. If I don’t go back, if I don’t try, I’ll always wonder what I could’ve accomplished—wonder if I could’ve done all the things I wrote down in my journal with a sunflower on it that’s under my pillow in New York.
“Can you be back in two days?” he asks. “I know this is impromptu, but we’ve committed to the launch dates, and I have to be sure we can pull them off.”
A single tear rolls down my face as my mouth says the words my heart can’t. “I’ll be there, Frank.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NEELY
Hi, honey!” Mom greets me from the kitchen. The house smells like pie and roast beef. It sours my stomach. “I’m making a raisin pie for Mr. Rambis, but I made you a coconut cream pie too. So no jealousy, all right?” She pokes her head around the corner. “Honey. What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Rambis is Gary to me now,” I say flatly. “We worked it out.”
“That’s nice.” She watches me walk into the kitchen and get out a glass. “Neely?”
I don’t look at her yet. I’m afraid I’ll cry. If that happens, she’ll probably panic, and her panicking won’t help anything.
“I have some great news,” I tell her. Ice clinks into the glass before I fill it with water.
“Great news is usually accompanied by a little more enthusiasm than I’m getting from you,” she notes. “Are you sure ‘great’ is the right word?”
On any given day, this news is great. Life-changing, even. It’s what I’ve worked my whole life for. It’s not that the word is wrong by any means. It’s that I’m having a hard time making peace with it.
I take a sip of the water. The cold rush slips down my throat. Instead of shocking me back to reality, instead of waking me up from the fog I feel like I’m walking around in, it chills me to the bone.
“I got two job offers today.” I lead with facts and numbers. I learned to do that in a random college class that I took just to finish my generals. People have a hard time arguing numbers, and if you start a conversation with hard data, they’re typically more engaged in your words. You sound smarter. And God knows I need all the wisdom I can get.
“Two?” She lifts a brow. “That’s amazing.”
“Aerial asked me to take over the gym today. I think that’s amazing.”
Mom’s eyes light up. “I actually think that’s wonderful.” She turns to the stove and puts on her oven mitts. She pulls two perfectly baked pies out and sets them on a cooling rack. “You’re so good with kids, honey. And the fact that Aerial trusts you to take over her namesake really says a lot about your reputation.” She plops the gloves down and turns to me. “I’m quite proud of you. You know that?”
I nod. I try to smile. I attempt at finding a twig of excitement somewhere in my system as I make my second declaration. “I also got a call from Frank Selleck.”
“He’s from your old company, right?”
“Right. He is Mark’s boss. I worked with him a few times on special projects and in developing the new magazine.”
She stills, watching me. It just makes me more nervous.
“Frank basically said they screwed up and want me back. Now. Ten percent more money than the job I applied for plus all creative control, more or less.” I wait for a surge of adrenaline that doesn’t come. “This isn’t just my dream job, Mom—it’s the next level. This is the stuff that happens to other people.”
I haven’t said it out loud until now. I stand by the refrigerator, which is covered in gaudy magnets and old pictures, and hope something I’ve just spouted off will hit me like a ton of bricks. That maybe this will start to feel less like a move to dread and more like something to feel energized about.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Nothing.
I try again.
“This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Mom goes to the sink and rinses off her hands. “I know it is, and I’m happy they realized what they lost.”