Calling is good, right?
But calling later in the day might be a consolation call—sorry you didn’t get the job.
But why would he be the one calling for that?
Wouldn’t he let someone else call to let me down?
“Carli?”
“What? Sorry.”
“I said we’d love to offer you the position.”
“You’d … Wow. Thanks. I mean. Of course. Good.” I shake my head and take a breath. “Sorry. I’m a little shell-shocked.” I bite my bottom lip. “I won’t be like this on the job. I’m just so … happy.”
He chuckles.
“I really am more professional than this.”
“I know you’re capable of professionalism, Carli. I’m sorry we kept you waiting. Like I said, it’s been a bit busy after the storm earlier this week. But we’re looking forward to welcoming you into the position. Susan will be sending you an email with all the details of your start date and any other particulars we need like your physical and the results of your background check, which, of course is just a formality. We all know your background.”
“Thank you.” My voice picks up. “Seriously. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Carli. I’ll be seeing you soon. You enjoy the rest of your night. And congratulations.”
“You too. Enjoy your night. Not congratulations, of course.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ll just stop talking now.”
He chuckles again. “It’s okay to be excited. This is a big deal, and as everyone around town keeps telling me wherever I go this week, you are the woman for the job.”
“Thanks,” I say, somehow managing not to babble again.
We say our goodbyes and I stand in the hallway between the kitchen and the mudroom with a smile stretching my face wide. I squeeze my fists and pump them into the air. “Yes!” I say quietly. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I do a little shimmy celebration dance, and then I smooth my hands down my jeans, compose myself, and walk back into the dining room.
My dad and Jace are clearing plates off the table and Mom is rinsing dishes at the sink.
“I got the job,” I say with far less enthusiasm than I feel.
I glance from Mom to Jace to Dad.
Their expressions are mirrors of neutrality.
“That’s great, sweetie,” Mom finally says. “Can you grab the butter off the table and put it in the fridge?”
“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” I walk to the table. Jace is standing there, staring at me.
“What?” I ask him.
His lips are thin and his arms are crossed over his chest. “Just thinking about farrowing season.”
“Say it, Jace,” I challenge him.
“I just hope you’ll be able to pitch in while adjusting to your new job off the ranch.”
“I will. I’m not going to let anything slip. We’ve got Chet. And I’ll be here mornings, evenings and weekends. I’m not abandoning the farm.”
He nods.
Dad’s hand lands on my shoulder and he gives me a light squeeze. “Proud of you, Carli. That job’s not an easy one to land.”
