But part of focusing on what I could control also meant finding a new job, and now that I was unpacked, that was the next thing on my to-do list. No matter what the future had in store for me, I’d need a new job to pay my bills and get the hours I’d need for maternity leave.
Again, I thought about Noah’s offer to work at his family’s resort. If I removed the whole complication of our past and my current situation, I had to admit, it sounded like a pretty good opportunity. It might be office work, but there was always the possibility for other jobs at the resort.
Last night, I’d researched the Whimsical Woods Resort and noticed that in addition to cottage rentals, they ran programs for guests. They needed help in the main office now, but perhaps down the road, they’d be open to me helping run some of the programs—or maybe even creating my own.
My phone started vibrating in my hand, alerting me to the fact that my parents were calling me for their annual Christmas chat. “Hello?” I answered.
“Merry Christmas, Ellen!” my mother said, using my full given name. No matter how many times I’d begged growing up, my parents refused to call me anything but Ellen. “Are you still in bed? You sound half asleep still.”
“I’m up, actually!” I replied. “I haven’t used my voice yet today. Merry Christmas.”
“Oh, good. You don’t want to waste the day in bed!” Mom lectured, and I exhaled slowly.
“I won’t be. I’ve got plans later, so I’m about to do a little baking.”
“What plans do you have? With a boyfriend, perhaps?” Mom asked, forever inquiring about my relationship status. It bothered her that I never spoke about any serious relationships. She thought I’d have my whole life figured out by now, and maybe be married with a kid or two. After all, she’d been married at my age, even if her and Dad hadn’t had me until much later. She’d also had her career.
“No, actually. I’ll be joining Sage at her aunt and uncle’s house for Christmas dinner. I, uh, moved to Hartwood Creek last week.”
“Really?” Mom sounded surprised. “Why on earth would you do that?”
“I liked the town when I visited, and figured it was time for a change of scenery.”
“Did you have a job lined up?” Dad asked, ever the pragmatic one. I rolled my eyes, thankful they couldn’t see the action.
“Not yet, but I—”
“Foolish to have moved without having a job lined up,” my dad interrupted. I could practically hear him frowning. “Does a small town even have employment opportunities for a recreational therapist? You didn’t have luck in Guelph.”
Dad’s comment stung, but he wasn’t wrong.
“Do you need money, Ellen? We were planning on sending you a wire transfer as your Christmas gift, but we can send more if you need.” Mom added, going straight to assuming the worst.
“It’s okay, Mom. I have a lot saved up, and I have an interview tomorrow that looks very promising.”
I was only telling her this to appease her, but naturally, Dad wanted to know more. “Where abouts? Not another coffee shop, I hope.”
My barista job hadn’t been much for them to brag about.
“No, it’s for a job as the receptionist at a cottage resort here in town. They offer recreational programs for guests too,” I said, hoping that was enough details to satisfy Dad’s curiosity and Mom’s assumptions. It was.
“Excellent. Good luck, Ellen. Let us know how it goes! Oh, and tell Sage and her family we said hi and Merry Christmas,” Mom said.
“I will. It’ll be nice to not spend it alone,” the comment fell from my lips before I could call it back, and I felt momentarily guilty about it. I tried not to hold things against my parents, especially because I knew they loved me, in their own way.
I don’t even think the dig registered, though. My mom went on to talk about their plans for the day, and I let my thoughts drift.
When I was born, Mom was forty-two and Dad was forty-five. They’d been married for twenty years before they had me. I was the only thing in their entire life that was unplanned and unexpected.
My parents were so accustomed to their life as it was, that they never really adjusted to having a child around. Our relationship had gotten better the older I got, because I’d learned what to expect from them and what they expected from me in turn.
They were both in their seventies now. I saw them roughly once a year when they returned for a few weeks in the summer. They’d rent the same fancy cottage up north, owned by their politician friends, and invite me up for a couple of nights.
“The weather is perfect,” Mom cooed, bringing me back to the present conversation. “You should really try to come out and visit again, you could use a beach vacation.”
“She should focus on finding a new job, Beatrice,” my dad grumbled. Yup, he was definitely not impressed with me for my brash decision to move without first securing a job. It was predictable, and shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but no matter how old I got, my parents’ disappointment was difficult to handle.
I sighed. “Dad’s right, it’s not a good time for me to travel right now,” I said. Despite the heaviness I felt, I was thankful for the excuse. I wouldn’t be going on any kind of vacation any time soon.
