Abby and I head north to the Appalachian Mountains of Tennessee. We have some fun doing some tourist things; discover hiking in the mountains and in general, isolate ourselves from the rest of the world.
We’re having some good talks, and now I feel much better on our way home again. Abby is doing reconnaissance by phone while I drive. She’s calling all our friends, pretending she’s not with me and gathering the gossip so we know what we’re headed into.
Apparently, the sentiment is on my side, naturally. Everyone agrees that Antonio is an asshole and should be banished from the country club and all our inner circle activities. They all say that now, but we know it won’t happen. His family is too connected. Not to mention, he’s still a bachelor, and there will be plenty of girls who overlook what he did to me and try to grab him for themselves. They are welcome to him, as far as I’m concerned.
So, in the space of that day, my entire life changed. I’m no longer the envied girlfriend who will marry into even greater wealth and influence. I won’t hold my mother’s role of being the socialite everyone wants to know. I’m a castoff, a rejected woman. Whether it is my fault or not, it will always carry a certain stigma. The only thing I have control of is how I allow this to affect me. I’m done with my parents’ set of friends. If I ever marry, it will be to a poor man.
Chapter 4
Michael
Mortimer Harrington and I have a bit of adjustment to do. It seems that Mortimer has regained his footing as a gentlemen’s gentlemen, and he has taken it upon himself to make decisions on my behalf. He believes his decisions are well-informed and intended to benefit me—to make my life easier. On the other hand, while I do need a secretary, and I do believe that Mort has what it takes, he has to learn that there are some boundaries. The first of which is my private life.
“Mort, I appreciate that you have met some ladies and would like me to double date with you, but I believe your private life needs to remain private and separate from our interaction. I also believe I’ve mentioned a couple of times that I’ve had some unfortunate luck when it comes to relationships. For that reason, I intend to concentrate on business for the time being. I expect that from here on out you will respect that and stop trying to push me.”
“Sir, I apologize, sir. I do have the advantage of seeing how hard you work, and I believe that it’s necessary to have balance in all things. That is the basis for my encouraging you to have the occasional encounter with a female companion. Nothing more is meant by it than that. However, as you will see, I’m respecting your wishes and will no longer bring up the topic.”
“I appreciate that.” Mort has a habit of being quite wordy, and I’m busy and in demand.
I don’t mean this to sound condescending, but Mort often reminds me of a new puppy—filled with enthusiasm, aptitude, and ability, but not yet seasoned enough to be objective. I know he’ll catch on, and I’m glad that I’ve run into him.
I decide to share the basics of my past with Mort, and he is sympathetic. “Do you mean to say that you lost both her parents at the same time?” he asked.
“They loved to sail and perhaps thought their skill level could overcome adverse weather. They were sailing back to Florida along the east coast when they got caught in a sudden storm off Hatteras Island. Their sailboat went down, and they were never recovered. I don’t have any siblings, and my father’s fortune was the inheritance upon which I’ve built my own assets.”
“So sorry to hear this, sir.”
I shrug. “Things happen, Mort. I don’t need to convince you of that. It’s not something I like to speak about so let’s not bring it up again.”
But Mort is not to be discouraged so quickly. “And the young lady? The one who hurt you so badly?”
I sigh deeply, indicating my displeasure with the conversation. I know I have to tell him, or I’ll never hear the end of it. “Her name was Monica. I met her just after she finished college. We were introduced by a mutual friend, and we hit it off immediately. She was very comfortable to be with, and she understood the world of business so you can see it was a natural fit. I had, by then, received my inheritance and was well on the way to increasing it when she brought up the topic of marriage. I was all for it, naturally. I wanted a family, just as she did. But I wanted something she didn’t—a prenuptial.”
“I see, sir. I take it the lady did not agree?” His eyes were sympathetic, but I heard the cynical tone of his voice. Mort is deeper than most people realize. He’s been around a little more than he wants to let on, not that it matters to me.
“No, she didn’t agree. In fact, she decided without talking with me first that maybe we weren’t as well matched as originally thought. She found herself another gentleman and moved on. And me? I’ve learned that business comes first in my life, and I’m not interested in the legalities of marriage. That’s not to say I don’t want a long-term, committed relationship, but it doesn’t need to include an exchange of rings.”
“Under the circumstances, sir, I can understand your resistance. I respect your attitude, and you’ll get no interference from me.”
“Promise?”
“Indeed, sir. I promise.”
“Good. Then let’s not have this conversation again.”
“So, what is on the agenda for today, sir?” His voice snaps me to the present.
“I thought today we might drive over to the projected condominium development I’m interested in. I would like you to ride along and to familiarize yourself with the details of the project. There may be times when I will ask you to represent me and make informed decisions on my behalf. Would you have a problem doing that?”
“No, sir, I don’t believe I would. If I feel as though I’m not in possession of all the details, I will ask your guidance before committing you.”
I have to chuckle inside. “That would be convenient, indeed, Mort.”
Mort and I dress for the excursion, wearing casual clothing as the development is not an ideal job site as of yet. I generally carry a spare set of clothes with me for just these sorts of occasions.
“When we get done at the building site, I’ve got a short and casual meeting with some potential business partners. It’s not really a big deal, in fact, we’re going to meet at the golf course.”
“I see, sir. Is this common, to have business meetings on a golf course?”
“Sometimes.” I shrug and look at some papers I’ve brought with me. “Do you golf, Mort?”
“No, sir.”
“I thought you Brits started the game?”
“No, sir. That would be the Scots. Even so, it’s a game that has been out of my budget, you might say.”
“Well, you are living here now. Maybe you want to give it a try. If not, you can wait for me in the lounge at the country club.”
“Truthfully, sir, that sounds far more pleasing to me.”
“I thought it might.”
We arrive at the country club, and Mort immediately hurries off to the clubhouse. I find my party just as they are preparing to tee off. “Looks like if I’d been five minutes later, I’d have been left behind,” I comment, a little disappointed.
“We’d lose our tee off time. Sorry about that,” answers Dave, a local banker with whom I’d developed a pretty fair relationship. He is married and has three kids, which doesn’t make for much recreation time, and is another reason that we meet on the golf course.
My caddy brings up my cart with my clubs, and I tee off last. Dave’s game is about the same as mine, so we walk together and talk about the new development. We are a group of six, almost too large as it’s taking us considerable time to clear a hole. This is becoming more obvious when I notice a couple waiting on the rise behind us. I say to Dave, “Don’t you think we should let them play through?”
Dave turns and agrees. He texts the others in our party, and they take a break, as Dave motions to the waiting couple. They approach, and Dave suddenly breaks into a big smile. “Well, Doug, I didn’t recognize y
ou from this distance.” He tips his hat to the woman. “Elizabeth, how are you?”
His voice in greeting Elizabeth has a conciliatory tone, almost as you would greet someone who had recently had a death in their family. She gives a half smile and nods. “We are picking up the pieces,” she says softly, and her words confirm my initial opinion.
“I’d like to introduce you to Doug and Elizabeth Duncan, Michael. Michael here is an up-and-coming real estate investor. Perhaps the four of us could play a foursome sometime?”
Doug speaks up. “That would be nice. Thanks for letting us play through,” he concludes, and they go on up to the tee and are soon out of sight.
Mike still keeps his voice low as he says, “Their daughter was supposed to be married last weekend. You might say it was the social event of the season, but it didn’t go off as planned.”
“Oh, no?”
“Let’s just say, the groom changed his mind and didn’t RSVP.”
“Shit. That had to be a lousy day.”
“Well, the guests made the best of it. They went ahead and had the party, but I think Mac, the bride, probably isn’t doing much celebrating. Let me get this ball off the tee, and you’ll be up next,” he finished and went on ahead.
I think about the young bride for a few moments. I had almost the identical situation, except my mate hadn’t waited until the wedding to desert me. I feel for the girl. I turn my attention to the scorecard and the map of this hole, forgetting everything else.
Chapter 5
MacKenzie
I have to give them credit. Mom and Dad are being pretty decent about the wedding fiasco. Once Abby and I got back, she went back to her life and left me to pick up the pieces on my own. It started with a breakfast conversation a couple of mornings after my return.
“So, Mac, have you decided how you want to handle this?” Mom is asking me rather than telling me for a change. I immediately pick up on this and realize we’ve had a major adjustment in our relationship. Apparently, even though I didn’t get the ring on my hand, she is willing to recognize that I might have reached adulthood and is willing to take into consideration what I want to do, instead of telling me what to do. I appreciate the gesture, but this is hardly the time to let me grow up. I need their help. I’m sitting on a mountain of student debt, not to mention wedding debt, most of which I had expected to be cleared up by my new husband. Obviously, such is not going to happen. I knew it wouldn’t place on hardship on Dad and Mom. They wouldn’t even miss it, but I do have my pride and my becoming an adult hinges on my being independently able to take care of myself.
“I appreciate that this isn’t exactly how we thought things would be today. To tell you the truth, I spent the last few days trying to rub these days out of my memory rather than plan on where I go from here. So, in short, I’m open to suggestions.”
Dad is giving Mom a sidelong look which tells me they’d had this conversation ahead of time. He finally speaks up. “Will you be wanting to just continue to live here with us or would you feel better being out on your own?”
That remark sort of hits me in the gut. I’d not yet thought about it. It feels like they’re asking me to leave, but where am I going to go? “Does that mean that your wedding present of the house is going away?”
“I won’t lie, Mac. Your mother and I have discussed this. The house is already in your name, but we feel as though you might be more comfortable, and it would take away the stigma of having been a wedding gift, if you were to, let’s say over time, pay us back for it.”
I roll my eyes visibly. “But you know I don’t even have a job. How can I possibly afford to make house payments, much less pay for the running of the house?”
“Yes, we thought about that. So, our plan is to encourage you to find some sort of employment, commensurate with your experience and degree, and at least give it a shot to pay for your own expenses. We will forgo mortgage payments for the next five years or so. You never know, you may just begin a new relationship with someone and eventually marry and want to live there. Our offer would allow you to do that without any bad memories attached.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” I say, with a little bit of sarcasm attached. My stomach is forming into knots, but then I remember that I will be coming into an inheritance left to me by my grandfather on my thirtieth birthday. That will more than pay for the house, so it is really a non-issue. I suspect my parents remember that as well, and this is simply their way of framing the situation in a way that I can stomach the reality and move forward. For that, I’m really appreciative and love them for their thoughtfulness. I also take from that conversation that we are going to talk about that again.
“Very well, then that part is resolved. Naturally, we will take care of all the expenses until you find a suitable position. The thing we wanted to impress upon you is that although you will be single, it is time for you to make a life for yourself. Naturally, you’re always welcome here, but it’s better for you to make the decisions that affect only you, and it would be easier if you were on your own to do that.”
“Actually, I completely agree with you. Dad; if you’ll back me while I buy some furniture and essentials for the house, I would appreciate that. Naturally, I’ll pay you back for those as soon as I’m able.”
Mom is nodding her approval. “I think you’re handling this with a very mature attitude, Mac. I’m very proud of you. I only wish now that we’d encouraged you to seek a degree in something with a little more income potential, shall we say? It never occurred to us that you would be self-supporting.”
“I can handle it, Mom. You know I love you and Dad, but I’ll be on my way as soon as I can manage it. In fact, I’m going upstairs right now and check out the job market. I don’t want either of you to call in any favors on my behalf; let me do this one on my own. Deal?” They both nod, and I finish my orange juice and head upstairs as promised.
I sit down in the shabby chic rocker by the window and pop open my laptop. I have absolutely no idea where to begin. I don’t even have a resume. I had pretty good grades in school, but certainly, nothing to compare to Abby’s, so this is the point where I hope that liberal means exactly that.
I know it’s a long shot because Abby works in a laboratory, but I text her.
MAC: Are they hiring where you work?
ABBY: I have no idea, why?
MAC: The folks are letting me keep the house, but I have to pay for my own expenses. I need to find a job.
ABBY: No shit? What are you going to do?
MAC: I’m sort of hoping you were going to have an idea.
ABBY: Sorry, but I don’t think they’re exactly looking for people with liberal arts degrees here. Have you looked online?
MAC: Where do I look?
ABBY: Geez, you are such a neophyte. Just Google jobs with your ZIP Code.
MAC: OK
I do as she tells me, and it takes me to a ton of job boards. Each one has their own gimmick, so I choose the one with the highest ranking and take a subscription. I search for my ZIP Code and then filter it down until I have a pretty good idea I’m qualified for the ones that remain. I still have no resume, though. I back out and search for examples of resumes until I find one that doesn’t look too tough. I plagiarize the darn thing, substituting my name and education, etc.
Back at the job site, I select anything that looks remotely interesting and send them a copy of my new resume. I’m satisfied with my efforts for the day, so I close the laptop with resolve, grab my keys, and head out on a shopping spree to buy furniture for my house. I go by the house first so I can remember what it looks like. Luckily, I’d thought to bring a notebook and a long measuring tape. Maybe a little bit of what Mom does is beginning to come out in me?
The house is much bigger than I remember. I’m feeling fairly overwhelmed and decide to choose just a few rooms to start and do the rest later. The kitchen will come first. Luckily, all the appliances are in place and new. This is one big check mark off
my list. But there are plenty of other items to take its place. There are dishes, pots, and pans, silver, glassware, the list goes on and on. I end up walking from room to room, taking pictures of it and decide to find myself a few decorating magazines and a nice glass of iced tea somewhere. That seems to be the most appealing plan.
I choose a cozy little place that serves awesome chef salads. Ordering the biggest glass of iced tea they offer, I begin my magazine shopping. That’s when it occurs to me that I could order everything online and simply have it delivered. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Oh, now this is starting to look up. This, I can handle.
I spend the next two hours flipping through the advertisements and circling the things I want. Afterwards, I head back home and am stopped by Mom just as I clear the doorway.
“Been looking for a job?” she starts in on me. I know this is the beginning of a new era of questioning.
“Hi. I’ve already got you beaten on that one. I sent out resumes this morning.”
“Oh? Really?”
I can tell she is impressed. This is one more check mark in my column. If I keep her happy, life will be easy. I nod and bounce up the stairs to my room. “I have to check if I’ve had any responses,” I call down to her just before I close my bedroom door.
True to my word, I pull out the laptop and open my email. To my amazement, there are actually a few responses. I become immediately suspicious. Are these plants from Mom and Dad? Then I look at the magazines filled with lovely furniture and decide it really doesn’t matter. I’ve already done my time contributing to charities and social events. Maybe it’s time I use a few of those contacts.
Beginning with the first, I start calling the numbers in the emails. I find two that interest me, one in particular. There is a small, contemporary art museum in South Beach, The Orpheum, that is looking for someone to raise funds, apply for grants, and seek to become beneficiaries so that they could enlarge their collection. This is right down my alley. While I’m not an art major, certainly, I do know my fair share. I do know how to run social fundraising events, and most certainly, many of my parents’ friends could be prime targets as supporters. I’m filled with the confidence that I’m a sure fit. I call the number as requested in the email, and a very nice lady named Margaret asks me to meet her at a local café for a face-to-face interview.
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