“Yes. You are. You’ve said quite enough to me, Spencer. This is all baseless. We both know why you’re doing this, and you should be ashamed of yourself. I do a good job. I pride myself on my work, and you,especiallyyou, aren’t going to tell me otherwise.”
“Good luck finding a job in accounting. You won’t get a recommendation from me.”
This I already knew. And while it makes my job hunt more difficult, I refuse to let it deter me.
Without another word, I make my way to my office. I’ve got some cloth grocery bags in my drawer for just this day. I knew it was coming, he returned from his vacation yesterday and already wrote me up for turning in a report five minutes late.
It wasn’t my fault. The company internet was down.
No matter. Holding my head high, I pass Bonnie’s office, but I don’t look in this time because if I do, I’ll start crying. I won’t give Spencer the satisfaction.
* * *
“Well,Barney. What should we do today?”
It’s been two weeks and six days since I was terminated from McAllister Accounting. In that time, I’ve had one interview with a start-up accounting firm. I thought it went well, and the woman who interviewed me even told me how excited she was for me to join the team, except two days later, I got an email that said they’d gone with “a candidate with more experience.”
That may have been true, but what I think happened is that they called Spencer.
I’m in a quandary. I could put my resume out there and leave off the job at McAllister but then I’d be starting on the ground level again, and while Chicago is a big city, word gets around even here. They’d probably find out I lied on my resume, and I’d be right back where I started only with two companies telling people not to hire me.
Bonnie’s done her best to help me job hunt. She’s been over to my place twice with her laptop and wine to assist. She’s mentioned a number of times that I should sue McAllister and Spencer.
My response? “Lawyers cost money. And what proof do I have?” None. Not really.
Not one to back down, Bonnie’s other suggestion was to call Hudson. To that one, I quickly said, “No.” If the guy hasn’t called in all this time, he’s forgotten about me.
“Why don’t you give me his number and I’ll call Hudson?”
That earned her a big, fat “No” as well.
The last thing I want is Bonnie having access to Hudson. Lord knows what that woman would do with that kind of information. I know she’s trying to help, but I’ll figure this out. If all else fails, I’ll wait tables or get a job in retail. Neither option is the least bit appealing, but I’ll give the job hunt one more week before I feel desperate enough to go there.
ChapterTwenty-Four
WILLA
It’s Sunday.It’s also the anniversary of my dad’s death. He died one year ago today. I glance at the clock. It happened one year and twenty-eight minutes ago to be exact. I know, because the police department gave us a plaque listing his commendation. On the bottom of it, it said: End of Watch with the date and time listed: August 14, 5:32 PM. Wiping the tears that have leaked out of my eyes, I pick up my phone and curl my feet beneath me. Barney’s also purring at my side, giving me the courage and support I need today.
It’s not like I expected her to call me. I didn’t. What I sort of wanted or hoped for was that she’d fly home to spend the day. Maybe she’d even go to his gravesite with me. Except she did none of that. I did, though. I sat in front of his tombstone and told him everything that’s been going on. I stuck his Bears season ticket into the black granite vase that’s attached to the base. Someone will probably steal it, but I don’t care. If that someone wants to take it and go to the games, at least someone will fill his seat. It won’t be me though. I’d spend the whole game bawling and not because the team stinks.
Looking down at my phone, I take in a deep breath and press her number. It rings once, twice, and on the third ring—“Hello?”
Except, it’s not Mom. It’s a man’s voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number.” Hanging up quickly, I look at my screen again. I know I pushed the right number.
Shit. Maybe she changed it again. If so, I’m going to have to do some sleuthing to get her new one. Maybe my aunt would have it. Before I go that route though, I try again. It rings once this time, and the same male voice answers. “Hello?”
“Oh. Um. I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Caroline Clariday. My mom.”
“Oh, sure. Hang on.” I can hear his voice in the background. “Carrie. It’s Willa.” He comes back on the phone. “She’ll be here in a second.” There’s a pause. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make the wedding.”
The wedding?
“What wedding?”
“Oh.” He’s silent for too long. “Carrie’s and mine.”
“And you are?” My voice sounds harsh.
