Etta Jo waggles her eyebrows.
“Is your cousin desperate for employees because they quit like the previous eleven governesses in the Sound of Music?” I ask, hoping she gets the reference.
“The role isn’t for a nanny, babysitting children,” Giselle says.
“Celebrities are glorified kids,” I mutter.
“Cate needs extra help because she usually only has a couple of clients at a time, but just got four troublemakers.”
Etta Jo adds, “You can think of Giselle as your fairy godmother. It’s very Cinderella-esque.”
“I don’t want to think about Cinderella.”
“Concordia is famous for its chocolate cake,” Giselle says as if that sweetens the deal.
It kind of does.
“There’s just one rule. No dating the clients.”
“Not a problem.” I don’t want anything to do with celebrities or public figures.
“The palmetto bugs won’t miss you, but I will.” Etta Jo gives me a side hug as if taking the job is a foregone conclusion.
“Then go with her,” Giselle says. “Explore the island nation.”
Etta Jo shakes her head. “I didn’t tell you yet, but I got a studio space in the new artisan building downtown. I sign the lease on Monday.”
I light up, excited about what this means for her side hustle. We visited the old factory converted into an upscale mall for artists, craftspeople, and other creatives a few weeks ago and saw a space available.
“The light in there is amazing and—” As Etta Jo goes on to describe her good news, my mind wanders.
I’ve strived to become an independent person and the freedom it anchors me to. But right now, I feel untethered. A familiar sense of loneliness tiptoes close. I’ve managed to avoid it lately, but it’s looking for a way in, an open door.
But if I step through the one that leads to Concordia, maybe it won’t follow me.
5
MAGGIE
I’m originally from California, but even after all this time living in new places, I still don’t know where I belong in the world.
Could I actually move abroad? This is one of those moments when I wish I had normal parents so we could discuss it, weighing the pros and cons.
Thankfully, I’ve always had friends like Declan and Etta Jo to stand in, but she’s all but bought my plane ticket. I don’t want to bother Declan with my woes because I know he’ll drop everything to help. He’s at the height of his career—I can’t ask that of him.
I open the messaging app and scroll pastThe Declan Printzas he so aptly typed when I last got a new cell phone—over five years ago now. Yes, my device is a relic.
My finger hovers over the thread between my parents and me when my phone chimes with a message. My stomach does an excited little tumble when I see who it’s from. Declan’s best friend-in-need sensors must’ve been going off—or he’s bored between meetings.
The Declan Printz: Would you rather take a pirate ship to Spain or a sailboat to France?
Maggie: Sail to France for sure.
The Declan Printz: I’d take my jet. Or the yacht. That would work.
Maggie: But that wasn’t the question you asked.
I knew about the plane, but did he text to brag about a new yacht? The football bros must not only be competing on the field but with ostentatious purchases, considering, according to Giselle, Garrison owns theRiptide’s Playbuoy. I can only imagine what Declan named his vessel. Dismay makes my shoulders sag.
