“Marissa, you can’t just get a job. You would need a work visa.”
I sighed. “Oh . . . I’ll sell seashells or something on the side. I can stay in hostels and figure it out as I go.” The seashell thing was maybe a bit much, but if he thought I was crazy, I might as well sell it. Plus, I was kinda hoping I would give him non-planning nightmares.
He rubbed his forehead. “Seashells . . . in London?”
Nope, not having this conversation.
He shook his head. “Marissa, this isn’t safe! The plane ticket could eat a few thousand dollars up alone.” Scott paced back and forth, rambling off questions that tore through my excitement.
“More money would always be nice, but I need this. I’m not your responsibility to worry about.” I fled his office before he could ask more questions. Questions would stop my momentum, and that’s not what I needed right now. “I’m going to look at flights,” I called over my shoulder. I needed to channel Faith’s energy and belief in Fate and romance.Well, maybe not the romance part. Just Fate. I needed to work on finding myself first.
I ran toward my desk, but Scott and his long legs were faster.
“Whoa, wait.” Scott grabbed my arm, bringing me back around to face him. His eyes were gentle, but he was going to ruin this with his logic. I could feel it. “Please, don’t rush into it. I would hate for something to happen to you. What’s so important that it can’t be planned? What about your grandmother? Surely she would feel better if you had some sort of itinerary.”
I stepped away from his closeness. The concern in his eyes was making my head swim. “I don’t want it thought out and planned. I’m hoping this whole Fate thing will take over.” I shrugged. He was right. Nan would need some of these answers too.
“Last time you referenced Fate, I got hit with a pumpkin and got a black eye.”
I felt my spontaneous adventure fall and my excitement drop through the holes he had torn through my sails. Maybe I would need to plan this out . . . a little.
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
I could at least look at tickets for planning. Ugh. I walked toward my desk and felt Scott cautiously following each one of my retreating steps. I sat at my desk and opened the web browser.
My phone rang. It was Carol Andrews. I felt another squeeze of anxiety. I answered it and put the phone to my ear as I scrolled through flights.
“Morning Carol, how’s the B&B going? Did Letty lose her cat again?” I knew she would be asking me to help her with something. She was always hoping I would come by and chat or helpher run this event or another. My history with the B&B was complicated.
Scott’s eyes flew open wide. I looked at him with a questioning glance. What did he look excited about?
“Hey Mar, everything is fine. Letty always has a lost cat, but that’s not why I called. I was wondering if you’d head the committee for the trunk-or-treat this year.” Carol must’ve been baking again because pans rustled and clanked in the background. Something clattered to the ground, and she swore.
“Wow, umm, that’s sweet, and I appreciate your untested faith in my abilities, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I shoulder pinched the phone and continued to scroll.
“Come on, you’d do great, and this time I’m desperate.” She sighed into the phone. “I ended up rolling my ankle pretty bad last night trying to reach the bins above the barn. Darn thing is all swollen.” Everything was held at the B&B: weddings, community events, birthday parties, and concerts. She was the community mom of sorts, and everyone relied on her.
My mom and dad’s joint funeral was beautiful there. Even in the haze of grief, I could tell the time and effort it must have taken to host it. She and Mom were best friends in high school. It couldn’t have been easy.
I leaned back in my chair and scrunched my nose. Someone else could step in, right?
She needed help, long-term help, with the place. Her book group ladies could only do so much. The last time I talked to Randy, he said he kept catching her asleep out in the pavilion, broom in hand.
I wasn’t the answer, though. I couldn’t be the answer. The place had too many memories tied to it. And if I agreed to help her, she would want to make it permanent.
“I know you don’t want roots here Mar, but this can be a one-time thing. I really need some help. I can pay some, use it for your Europe fund.”
I hated the thought of letting Carol down. She was always there for me, in any way I let her be. She had given me my car when she saw me walking to work in the winter four years ago, and a check for five hundred dollars with a card at graduation that mentioned it was for Europe.
I sighed. If her ankle was hurt, she would need help. I felt my throat tighten at the thought.
Could I help her?
I was going to have to plan anyway, and the trunk-or-treat would be in less than a month. That wasn’t bad. I tipped my head back and forth. “I don’t know.” Even a one-time thing felt risky. I would need to spend time at the B&B, which made my stomach churn.
“I already have a committee lined up to help, and I’ll be there too.”
Being part of the committee was more my speed. I was more of a sideline girl. “Can one of them run it?”
