“I wasn’t just sitting around, though. I was raising our child and taking care of the household.”
“And when he walked out on you, he left you with nothing. There isn’t some magic windfall about to come your way.”
Hell, he was right about that. Weeks before he walked out on us, my ex had been laid off from his job, a fact he kept a secret from me. Now he was out on the west coast trying to “find himself” among the surfers. While we were married, he’d run us into debt, racking up huge credit card bills. We’d had to use any money we got from selling our house to pay those down.
I was broke. For real broke.
“You’ve been looking for a job for months,” he said. “Now isn’t the time to be picky. This is good, honest work that comes with a paycheck at the end of the week.”
Una steepled her fingertips. “Dani, let me tell you about one of my friend’s clients.” She always had a story about a friend’s client to fit every situation. “She was in the same place as you—newly divorced and having to start over. Her neighbor came over, stressed because her toilet was broken, and she couldn’t find a plumber to come out. My friend’s client watched a few YouTube videos about how to fix it.” Una paused dramatically. “And now she owns her own plumbing company.”
“I don’t want to be a plumber,” I said. “And I don’t see how doing some stranger’s laundry for a month will morph into this big, exciting, life-altering experience for me.”
“The point of the story is that not all opportunities look like opportunities from the outset.” She waved a hand down her body. “Look at me. I was at home with twins in the early aughts, and I was at my wits’ end. I started a blog just for the heck of it, really only to vent. Now CNN calls me any time they need someone to talk about parenting or stress.” Una picked up one of my chocolate chip cookies, broke off the teeniest, tiniest of crumbs, and popped it into her mouth. “It’s all in what you make of it.”
I glanced at my parents, who were still off to the side, observing this whole conversation. “But how do I do that? How do I make something of it?” Una had great stories about herself and her friends’ clients, but how could I make sure this job wasn’t simply a dead end?
“That’s something you need to figure out,” Una said.
“You’re the life coach.”
Una broke off another cookie crumb and chewed thoughtfully. “Okay…what if you go feed this guy for a while, and you impress him so much with your cooking ability that he tells his friends, and then they want to hire you—”
“As a housekeeper?”
“No, to cook! Think of the possibilities. You could be a personal chef. Or open your own catering business. Or a bakery. Or a café.” She snapped her fingers. “I mean, the first thing you have to do is set up an Instagram account and start posting pictures of what you make. You can livestream videos of yourself cooking and baking…”
The sound of my own blood whooshed in my ears as she carried on. It was all too much at once, and again I felt the pressure of having to turn this into an Opportunity, capital O.
But I also knew my dad was right. Now was not the time for messing around. Now was the time to grow up and do what everyone else did—take a job for the paycheck, because that was part of being an adult.
And I knew that it was all up to me to make this happen. For way too long, I’d allowed myself to coast and let my ex-husband take care of our money situation. I had a blank slate now, and I owed it to myself—and to Kelsie—to give this an actual shot. If I could turn this into something real, she could move out on her own, and I might give myself a true chance at fulfilment, or at least financial independence.
Una placed her hands on my shoulders. “I told Jane what an amazing cook you are and how you’re a delightful, responsible person who would never try on the author’s clothes because you have no idea who he is. And then Jane said if you’re as good as you sound, you’ve got the job.”
My jaw tightened. “You’re saying I’ve already got the job?” Apparently this was a runaway train, and Una had purchased a ticket for me.
“Yes! It’s yours, if you want it.”
I glanced at my dad, who was on about his fifth cookie now. “It’s a job, Dani,” he said. “It’s not a marriage.” He winced as he said it, and so did I. “Sorry,” he said.
But he was right. It wasn’t a marriage; a job, at least, was not “’til death do you part.” “Okay,” I said finally. “Tell Jane I’m in. I will cook and clean for this author person.”
…
Matt
December 7th, thirteen days before deadline
“I have to say, I think my assistant, Jane, may have outdone herself with this new housekeeper.” I munched on the gingerbread cookie Linda had run back inside her house to fetch me when she saw me passing by.
I’d started having little conversations with her whenever I ran into her on the road on my runs. After our initial meeting, she never asked me anything about the book or the show or how my writing was going. She merely handed me a Christmas cookie or two and sent me on my way. She reminded me a bit of my great aunt Dorothy, who’d always ply me with food whenever she came to dinner at my grandparents’ house back when I was a kid. “He or she or they—Jane only refers to the person as ‘the new hire’—is an amazing cook,” I said with my mouth full. “They only stopped by this afternoon to drop off dinner and meet Jane, but I’m hopeful it’s all going to work out. They start officially tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful, Matt.” Linda fussed with the evergreen wreath around one of her reindeer’s necks. It was late in the evening, the sun had gone down hours ago, and the moonlight danced off the twinkling lights threaded through her decorative does.
“Yeah,” I said. “I thought so, too. They not only brought dinner, but cookies, too.”
“Better than my gingerbread?” Linda raised an eyebrow.
“No way,” I lied. Linda’s cookies were good, but my new housekeeper’s confections were next level. They’d brought over a plate piled high with layered bars of chocolate and caramel on top of a buttery cookie crust—Jane said they were called “Millionaire’s Shortbread.” They may have ruined all other cookies for me forever.
I said good-bye to Linda and headed back toward my house, a new spring in my step. I used to take socializing for granted, back before people started recognizing me and expecting favors from me. I always saw myself as an indoor cat, an introvert, someone who thrived on alone time. But every once in a while, I got a jolt from a little interpersonal connection, and it made me question my ruling philosophy that other people were my adversaries.