“Howard’s not going to call,” she said. “He’s got two temps working at the store.”
“Impossible,” Lindsay said. “How did he find replacements so quick?”
The realization that she had no job and was about to lose her apartment settled in her stomach like a lead weight. “I can’t believe this. Now what are we going to do?”
“I have no idea,” Sara answered.
Sara was a girl who left high school in her junior year, a girl who’d come to New York hoping to find work in the theatre. Instead she’d found nothing but rejection. When even the opportunity for auditions dwindled and disappeared the Big Book Barn had been the only place that would hire her, and they did so only because she was willing to take a pittance for pay. With little or no options she gave a long heartfelt sigh.
“I suppose I could go back to Florida and stay with my sister,” she said despondently. “Maybe I can get a job waitressing.”
~ ~ ~
Every human on earth has to endure Life Management events. It’s not the event that destroys a human, it’s the way they react to it. I know Lindsay is miserable right now, and I’m not insensitive to the situation. But if she hadn’t flown off the handle and walked out of the store, she would have been standing at the register when the engineer I had lined up walked in. He would have asked for a book on the construction of the Lincoln Tunnel; then she would have taken him to the research section and spent twenty minutes helping him find the book. If things went according to plan, they would have both reacted to the spark. Later that evening over dinner and a bottle of Pinot Grigio—POW!
Of course, with Lindsay, things seldom go as planned. That’s the problem.
~ ~ ~
For the next three weeks Lindsay spent every waking hour searching for a job. At the end of that time the only thing she had was a notepad of scratched off listings and the knowledge that her resume was pitifully inadequate. She’d moved to New York with thoughts of becoming a journalist and then one day a novelist, but she’d done none of that.
Instead she’d taken a job at a magazine where there was no reporting; there was only making coffee and answering phones. Several times she’d asked to write an article, but a bulbous-nosed editor peered across the rim of his glasses and said, “Sweetie, we only use professional stuff.” After six months she’d moved on to become an administrative assistant to one of the many vice presidents at a marine insurance firm. There she had little to do but answer an occasional telephone call and make up excuses about her boss being tied up at a meeting. Her boss, a man who often returned from lunch smelling of whiskey, was eventually fired, and Lindsay’s job disappeared along with his. From there she’d gone to the Big Book Barn, and, well, you already know how that ended.
For five days straight there were no new job listings. That’s when Lindsay grew frantic and began telephoning her friends. Amanda knew of no openings in her store or anywhere else.
“But, Amanda, you work for Saks,” Lindsay said. “Don’t they hire extra help for the holidays?”
“Those temps were hired a month ago,” Amanda replied. “The training class is over.”
“Training? I don’t need training. I’ve worked in retail for two years. I know how to work with customers. I’m ready to—”
“Oh, Saks would never hire anyone who hasn’t gone through our training program. I mean, it is Saks Fifth Avenue.”
Lindsay suddenly found herself disliking her best friend. First it was Christopher, now this thing with Saks.
“Thanks anyway,” she said sharply and hung up the telephone.
Her next call was to Sara. Hopefully she’d had better luck in finding a job and could suggest something. Lindsay dialed Sara’s home number.
“The number you have called is no longer in service,” a recording said.
“No longer in service?” Lindsay echoed. “That’s impossible.” She dialed again and got the same recording. Reasoning that maybe it was a move to economize, she dialed Sara’s cell phone. A girl could go without eating, do without new shoes and even be cold in the wintertime, but she had to have a phone. It was a well-known fact of life.
The phone rang several times before someone finally answered, and it was with a cheerful voice that was unfamiliar. “This is Sara.”
Taken aback, Lindsay stuttered for a moment then said, “Sara? Sara McClusky?”
Sara laughed. “Yes, of course it’s me.”
The loud music, the laughter in her voice—this wasn’t the Sara Lindsay knew. “Are you drinking?” she asked. “What’s going on? Are you at a party?”
“You bet I am!” Sara shouted. “This is definitely a par-tee.”
“Sara? Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine.” Sara laughed again. “Actually it’s great. I’m at my sister’s in Tampa.”
“Florida?”
“Unh-hunh, that’s where Tampa is.”
“You left New York? What about your job?”
Sara chuckled. “In case you’ve forgotten, there was no job, remember? You quit for both of us.”
“But I thought you’d find…” The truth was Lindsay didn’t know what she thought.
Sara stepped away from the music, found a quiet spot and then they talked.
Lindsay told of the trouble she’d had finding a job and apologized again for dragging Sara away from the Big Book Barn. “I had no idea it was this hard,” she sighed.
Sara reassured Lindsay she had no second thoughts about leaving as she had.
“It was the best thing that could have happened,” she said. “The truth is I had no life in New York. I was a guppy swimming with sharks. The best I could ever hope for was to avoid being eaten alive.”
“I never really saw it that way,” Lindsay replied.
“Neither did I. But once I got past the no-job thing, I learned to move on, get some fun out of life.”
“Move on?” Lindsay echoed.
“Yeah, can you believe it’s me saying this?”
Lindsay had to admit it was hard to believe.
“It’s like I learned to breathe all over again,” Sara said. She then went on to tell about how she’d found a great job as a hostess at a beachfront restaurant.
“Living in New York isn’t for someone like me,” she explained. “It’s a good place for people who are climbing to the top of the ladder, but I’m just looking to be happy and have a good life.”
Lindsay knew by the sound of Sara’s voice she had found what she was looking for; it wasn’t in New York, it was in Florida.
When they hung up Lindsay felt strangely alone, more alone than she’d been since the days after her mother had passed away. For a long time she sat there, at first thinking of her options and then wishing she too had a sister in Florida.
~ ~ ~
I guess by now you’ve surmised trouble is on the horizon. Lindsay isn’t the only one at risk. Unless I do something to change the course of events, Eleanor and John will be torn apart. And, yes, Lindsay will never find her perfect match.
~ ~ ~
That evening, long after most people had eaten dinner and cleared the dishes from the table, I watched Lindsay walk three blocks to the Golden Dragon, buy a pint of pork fried rice and carry it home. She scooped the rice into a bowl, flicked on the television and dropped down on the sofa. From where Lindsay sat she could view the apartment in its entirety, except for the bathroom—from the archway on the left that led to a kitchen barely big enough to turn around in to the bedroom alcove on the right. Not a real bedroom, just an alcove large enough for a bed and a very small dresser.
Lindsay sat there thinking back on all that had happened. Piece by piece she was losing herself and everything she loved. First it was her Mom, then Phillip, then the apartment, then her job. Now even Sara was gone.
She thought about Sara and the happiness that bubbled through her voice. She pictured blue skies and palm trees waving in the breeze. And for a brief moment she even pictured a
handsome lifeguard with a sun-toasted body and hair the color of spun gold.
As she finished the rice it seemed bland, tasteless. A mix of drab colors, not unlike her apartment. She thought back to the bedroom she’d slept in growing up. It was nearly as large as this entire apartment. It was a happy place, a room that made you smile just being there. She remembered the curtains her mother made, and she remembered her mother. God, how she missed her. Nothing was the same without her. Not the house, not Dad, not even the inside of Lindsay’s heart. She’d moved to New York hoping to leave the pain of remembering behind, but it came with her. It wasn’t visible as it was at the house, but it was here. Hidden inside Lindsay’s heart.
She stood and carried the empty bowl to the kitchen where there was no table, just a counter and space for a single stool. The starkness of it brought back memories of the dining room at home, of the mahogany table and dinners with Mom, Dad, Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Frank. As those memories crowded her head, it seemed both she and the apartment grew smaller and smaller. Perhaps one day she would shrink to a size that would disappear altogether, just as her mom, Phillip, her job, the apartment and now Sara had disappeared. Lindsay wondered if anyone would even notice when she was gone. That thought swelled and pushed tears from her eyes.
When she went to bed that night, a loneliness bigger than any girl should have to know settled into Lindsay’s heart. She pulled the blankets over her head and began to cry.
Cupid
Gremlins
At one time this was a simple job. Arrange for two humans to meet on a stroll through the park or at a party, even at work. But with every century it becomes increasingly more complex. Now not only do I have to deal with cross-country relocations, I’m plagued with online dating sites. The idea of a computer doing my job is virtually laughable. I can look ahead a thousand centuries and promise you that long after computers are obsolete, I will still be arranging perfect matches. Granted, the computer has its uses as you will soon see, but finding love is not one of them.
With most humans I can predict what they’ll do, but Lindsay is totally unpredictable. No one understands human hearts better than me, and I can assure you it’s much too soon for that girl to find love. This leaves me in what might be called a pickle. I can’t give Lindsay a new match nor can I allow her to interfere with John and Eleanor, so I’ve created a distraction—not all that difficult because humans are extremely gullible and quite easily distracted. Watch what happens.
~ ~ ~
Lindsay woke with a strange feeling and a buzzing in her ears. It seemed as though she was hearing something and yet not hearing it. Twice she cleaned her ears with a cotton swab, then resorted to using earwax cleansing oil. Still it continued.
She booted up the computer and Googled employment agencies, but the strangest thing happened. She got a car rental site. She exited the site and tried again. The next time she was rerouted to a genealogy site, one that promised to find lost and forgotten family members. She again clicked ‘exit file’ and tried retyping Jobs.com in the navigation bar. Again she landed on the genealogy site.
Still thinking of her conversation with Sara, she changed course and typed “Visit Florida” into the Google search bar. Seconds later it appeared: the same picture she’d been imagining. A bluer than blue ocean, a long stretch of sandy beach, palm trees so tall they extended beyond the edge of the picture. Lindsay sighed. If only…
While she gazed at the screen, the beach transformed itself into a river with a man holding up the giant bass he’d caught. That scene then dissolved into one of a middle age couple sitting at an outdoor table surrounded by tropical flowers. Scrawled across the screen was “Discover the Florida in you!” Suddenly she had an overwhelming urge to go there.
Lindsay remembered Sara’s words. It’s like I’ve learned to breathe again.
I can do this, she thought. I’ve got enough savings to last a month, maybe two. By then I could find a job and… It was only a two-day drive, and when she got there she could stay with Sara for a few days. Just long enough to find her own place. A furnished room maybe, or an efficiency apartment. Living in Florida couldn’t possibly be as expensive as living in Manhattan. Without another moment of hesitation, she double-clicked on “Get more information”.
There was a slight pause, then a page appeared that read “Welcome to Small Paws, the place where love starts.” The page was bordered with images of small cute dogs: a cuddly-looking Shih Tzu, a long-haired Maltese and a Pomeranian with a poof of hair and a tiny nose.
“Awww, how cute,” Lindsay said, and without knowing what pushed her hand to do so she clicked on one of the pictures.
The face of the Shih Tzu instantly filled the screen. In the lower right hand corner was a block of copy. “I’m a nine-year-old boy who needs a home” it read. “I do best with older adults who have lots of love and can spend all day with me.” It went on to say that he was completely housebroken but not good with small children.
“All day?” Lindsay repeated. “I can’t stay home all day, I’ve got to get a job.”
She clicked on the Pomeranian and the picture grew larger, but before she could read the copy the photo was replaced by one of a shaggy-looking puppy standing on a small square of gritty brown dirt. Although she’d never known dogs to have an expression, this one looked forlorn. Beneath the photo was a single line of copy. It read “I’m waiting for you.” This picture had no button to click for more information. It said nothing more about the dog. There was no logline about the breed or what kind of home was right, no designation as to whether it was male or female.
“What the…” Lindsay double-clicked on the picture. It disappeared, and the Pomeranian came into view. “I’m a sweet little girl who is three years old” it read. The copy told the dog’s story and provided a link where the viewer could fill out an adoption application.
Lindsay hit the back arrow. The picture of the Shih Tzu reappeared. “Where’s that other dog?” she grumbled and moved her cursor to the forward arrow. The Small Paws home screen appeared again.
“What the heck is going on here?”
One by one she went through every picture on the website, but the sad-eyed dog was nowhere to be found and the buzzing in her ears seemed to get louder. It wasn’t just a buzz; it was far away voices, voices too small to be understood or distinguished. Lindsay could swear she heard a dog barking, but since the apartment building had a strict no pet policy that was impossible.
For the past fifteen years Lindsay had not once thought of having a dog. When Honey, a golden retriever who for ten years tagged along behind her died, she gave up all such thoughts. For countless months after Honey was gone, Lindsay mourned the loss. She held onto Honey’s favorite chew toy and kept it in her bottom dresser drawer. Night after night she’d take it out and hold it to her face. It still had the smell of Honey, which inevitably caused the tears to come. Several times Bethany suggested they visit the rescue center and look at the puppies.
“Just because you lost Honey doesn’t mean you can’t love another dog,” her mother explained.
Lindsay flatly refused. “No dog could ever replace Honey.”
“You wouldn’t be replacing Honey,” Bethany explained, “you’d just be giving love to a lost dog who has no one else to care for them.” She said doing such a thing might ease the pain of losing Honey, but Lindsay refused to listen.
Lindsay remembered her mother’s words as she scanned the website looking for the forlorn-looking dog. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the image and the words: “I’m waiting for you.” This was the lost dog her mother had spoken of, Lindsay was certain of it. After almost an hour on the Small Paws website, Lindsay knew she had to have that dog. Adopting that pitiful looking puppy would be the closest thing to having Honey back again.
Lindsay had a certainty she hadn’t felt in all the years her mom had been gone. She had to give up the apartment anyway, so she’d find a place that allowed dogs. All she had to do n
ow was find the dog. She exited the site and tried again. After she’d entered SmallPaws.com into the search bar, the home screen reappeared. She again went through the entire site, dog by dog, sometimes double-clicking, sometimes a single click, but not once did she see the picture she was looking for.
When the telephone jangled, Lindsay picked up it up on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey, how are you?” her father said.
“Not so great,” she answered. Her voice echoed the frustration she felt.
“What’s the problem?”
She sighed. “Everything.” Although she had far greater concerns, she zeroed in on the problem at hand. “My computer is acting up and…” Her voice wavered and she choked, holding back the tears.
“If you need a new computer,” John said, “I could—”
“It’s not just the computer, it’s…” Lindsay gave another sigh, and this one stretched itself out like a clothesline. “It’s everything. It’s the emptiness of my life.”
“What’s wrong with your life?”
John had been a single father for almost ten years, and try as he might he’d never fully understood Lindsay. There seemed to be a secondary meaning behind the words she spoke, obviously a secret code fathers were not privy to. Bethany had somehow figured it out and could always come up with an answer to dry Lindsay’s tears. John had no such luck. The life she was dissatisfied with could mean anything from boyfriend problems to a dress lost at the dry cleaner.
He listened to the muffled sobs for a minute longer then said, “Lindsay, please stop that crying. Just tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
She sniffled. “You can’t. Nobody can. My life is falling apart. I lost my job, lost my apartment and there’s this little dog—”
“Whoa,” John interrupted. “What’s this about losing your job and your apartment?”
“It’s true. They’re closing the store. Everybody got laid off. Then I got this letter saying the building was going condo, and I have to buy the apartment or be out of here by the end of next month.”
Wishing for Wonderful: The Serendipity Series, Book 3 Page 4