1
Hearts Bend, TN
All her life, she’d believed that if she worked hard enough, she’d achieve her dream. That’s what they said. And in so many ways, they were right. Except they forgot to mention life’s curveballs. Situations beyond one’s control.
Yet Elizabeth Dorsey refused to go down without swinging. This spring, she’d finally knocked one of her curveballs out of the park and graduated from MIT with honors. Then another strange pitch—maybe a knuckleball this time—sent her back to the dugout. Her dream of attending the Wharton School for her MBA was wait-listed.
Not to worry. She’d learned a lot in the past five years.
Parking her car along the curb of Lilac Street off River Road and under the shading maple near her grandparents’ home—a mid-century modern meets two-story rambler—in Hearts Bend, Tennessee, she grabbed her backpack and headed up the walk.
She’d been here a month, but some days it felt like forever. Even worse, this might be her forever. When she walked across MIT’s stage wearing honors regalia for her Bachelor of Science in Management degree, she believed one thousand percent that her next move was an MBA from the Wharton School. Not working in the financial office of the family-owned Dorsey Furniture.
“Beth?” Granny peered out the kitchen door as Elizabeth hung her backpack in the mudroom. “Dinner’s on the table.”
“No time. Tina called. Asked if I could come in at six.” She set her lunch containers in the sink. Granny’s cooking made for fab leftovers. “I’ll wash those later.”
“You know I love Tina, but I hope you told her six nights in a row was too much.” Tina Danner was a dear friend and owner of the town’s beloved Ella’s Diner.
“Of course not. I like working.” Her experience would aid her coursework once she made it into Wharton. Elizabeth grabbed a chicken leg from the table as she headed for the stairs. “The night manager no-showed, and Tina has to be at a grandkid’s birthday bash.”
If she wasn’t working, what was Elizabeth going to do—sit at home and watch TV with Granny and Pops? She couldn’t put that on her résumé.
Working at Ella’s Diner felt like home away from home. She’d waitressed at the Hearts Bend diner during her high school summers. Tina had once told Granny no one had ever worked as hard as Elizabeth. So naturally, even at twenty-five, she had a reputation to uphold.
“Fine,” Granny called up after her. “But do you have time to sit down and eat? One chicken leg won’t do.”
“Good news, Granny, Ella’s serves food.” Elizabeth changed from the slacks and blouse she’d worn to Dorsey Furniture into her diner uniform—an Ella’s T-shirt, jeans, apron, and a pair of Hokas.
“Yes, but is it your granny’s food?”
“Nothing is my granny’s food.” She tucked in her T-shirt and tied her sneakers.
Down the hall, she washed her face, braided her hair, and gave herself a pep talk via the mirror. “Forget your messy room. Focus on your task. Outperform your expectations. Show the world you’re ready for the next level.”
Granny met her by the back door with a baggie of carrots. “Here. Munch on these. I have to know you’re getting something healthy.”
“I had leftover salad and grilled salmon for lunch, and four cups of coffee. Isn’t that healthy?” She had Granny with the coffee remark. She and Pops were coffee freaks. Three or four mornings a week, they drove to town for a walk in Gardenia Park before heading over to Java Jane’s for a cup—or two or three—of joe.
“Three is fine, but four is over the line.” She shimmied the baggie. “Eat these on your way, and have Tina’s great chicken soup on your break. And come home early if you can. I hate how much you’re working. Are you sure you’re not wearing yourself out? You know the doctor?—”
“I know what the doctor said. I’m being careful.” Elizabeth snatched the baggie and headed for the kitchen door. “Granny, everything seems easy after MIT.”
Through the mudroom, she picked up her backpack and headed out. After the high of MIT, earning her degree with expectations of Wharton, the hardest part of moving to Hearts Bend wasn’t the long hours. It was feeling like a failure.
When her application to Wharton was wait-listed—wait-listed!—she’d accepted a job at a Boston marketing company, only to learn two days before her start date that they were cutting staff. Drastically.
That’s when Dad casually tossed out the idea of working in the family business to gain experience. He’d worked there for a year after graduating from Ohio State. Then he got the job in Boston and never looked back.
While she hated any further delay to her plans—most of her friends were already in grad school, launching amazing careers, even getting married or having kids—the whisper in her soul told her she needed this break. And the experience would be good.
Ducking into her classic ’73 Volkswagen Super Beetle—a graduation present from her parents—with its candy-apple red paint glistening in June’s early evening light, Elizabeth fired up the engine, stared out the windshield, and uttered her mantra.
“Don’t let another setback define you. Just keep going.”
Heading down River Road with the restored car’s new A/C system blasting, Elizabeth let Blake Shelton sing away her cares. Try to remember the good things, Beth.
Living with Granny and Pops was always fun. Getting reacquainted with her boisterous, nosy, loving extended family was half annoying and half a blast. Working in the finance office of Dorsey plus nights and weekends as a manager at Ella’s was more energizing than she thought.
