“You’ve worked here for thirty years?”
“Not exactly.” An edge of unsureness was working through Brianne’s voice. “Agatha kept your mother’s position open until about twenty years ago when my husband and I moved here. I have to say, the records and operations manuals your mom created were impeccable. She could have run this place with her eyes closed.”
My eyes welled at the naked admiration in her voice. I didn’t think about my mother a lot. It hurt too much. It was nice to know she was still well-remembered.
Brianne lifted her lips into a quirky half-smile. “But her taste in decor was a little, shall we say, basic?”
I closed my eyes, as much to keep the tears in check as to visualize the lobby the way it used to look. I could have sworn there were only two doors at the time, but I must be remembering it wrong. It’s not like they could have added rooms.
Which was odd, too, because as narrow as the lobby was, it also seemed to be the same width as the house. From the outside, it didn’t appear to have space for four rooms on each end. They would have to be tiny.
What I could envision from the past was sparse furniture, most of which came in a box and required assembly. I chuckled to myself at the memory of the dozen or so tiny Allen wrenches Mom had kept in a drawer in our kitchen, just in case one of the boxes didn’t include its own.
“We didn’t have money when I was growing up. My dad wasn’t around, and Mom worked hard. I know Agatha asked her to make the place look presentable, but Mom couldn’t get over the expense.”
I wanted to soothe Brianne and make sure she understood I had no resentful feelings about the changes she’d made. Time moved on, whether we wanted it to or not. I liked Brianne on sight and knew I would enjoy working with her. It was painful to admit, but I was starving for friendship.
Still, it occurred to me that I was her boss now. Or I would be, if this worked out. I wanted us on the right footing.
“Everything looks beautiful. It feels clean and welcoming and soothing, just like the Magnolia should.” I flipped my coffee to my left hand and wiped the condensation on my slacks, then reached out to shake her hand. “I have absolute faith in your ability to manage the Magnolia, Brianne. You’re meant to do great things here.”
It was another odd thing to say, but I was used to being awkward on first meetings. And sometimes second meetings. And, if the other person was really pretty, really tall, or had that cool vibe… well, it took me a long time to fully get over the awkwardness. Sometimes it stayed forever.
Brianne’s smile was warm and held a hint of approval that relaxed all the pieces inside me that wanted to look cool in front of her orimpress her. Bypassing my hand once more, she grabbed me into a quick side hug.
“I think we’re both going to do great things, Simone.” She released me, then scurried over to her desk and pressed a few buttons on the phone before grabbing a manila envelope from the bottom drawer. It was then that she looked at me and furrowed her brow, searching around me as much as she was staring at me.
It brought the awkward sensation rushing back. I replayed our conversation in my head to find the moment I’d said something wrong. Something in my welcome or my words had just landed with her, and an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, turning the coffee from refreshing to bitter. What had I said wrong?
“Where’s your luggage?” She went to the front door and opened it, scanning the patio. “Did Ethan explain that there’s lodging upstairs? And that you’re required to live in it?”
“Oh, that. He said there was lodging but I don’t have a lot of clothes right now.” I fiddled with the edge of my shirt. After Ethan had left, I’d changed into a spare set of clothes in my office and called a rideshare before I could change my mind. Going back to my house to pack hadn’t occurred to me. “Ethan told me he’d explain everything after the board meeting.”
Brianne was staring at me like I had just told her I planned to raise pet hyenas. My palms were getting clammy, and the hairs on my arms lifted as a sudden wave of heat settled over me. The lobby hadn’t been this warm when I walked in, had it? A trickle of sweat formed at the base of my neck and trickled down my spine, landing at the small of my back.
“That wasn’t the way that conversation was supposed to go.” She twisted her lips, as if trying to decide what to do. Whatever I was missing, it was important. Finally, she shook her head. “We can discuss it with Ethan when he gets here. I wonder why he didn’t explain the situation more fully?”
“I think that’s my fault.” My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I’d started early stages of menopause a few years prior. One of my least favorite side effects was my fun new ability to flush bright red whenever I was embarrassed, awkward, or uncomfortable. Since that was most of the time, I walked around splotchy and red faced. “My husband and I are going through a separation and Ethan caught me at a, well, let’s just call it a bad moment.”
Brianne set her hand on my arm, the gesture putting me at ease again. I smiled at her understanding gaze, her compassion filling me as if she’d hugged me a third time. I really liked this woman.
A new aroma filled the room, the soothing scent of caramel and vanilla and some kind of spice. Something dinged in the kitchen, and Brianne chuckled.
“That must be for you.” She took the iced coffee from my hand, and I followed her to the kitchen where a tall mug sat on a matching coaster, a swirl of steam surrounded the mocha foam layered over the top.
A Bayou Bliss. The non-caffeinated drink my mother used to make for me.
“Oh wow, I haven’t had one of those in ages. How did you know?”
Brianne didn’t answer. She leaned against the cabinet while I took my first sip. It was like being transported back to my childhood, when I’d read books or sung songs behind my mother’s desk while she greeted customers and answered phones. It was my lone treat, every day after school, and I hadn’t had one since.
As a child, it had seemed so exotic, having a special drink that was all mine. Sipping it now, I recognized the flavors my mom always claimed came from a “magical place far away” as chai and chocolate with a hint of caramel. And something else. Something very Louisianan.
“Chicory.” I laughed at Brianne’s raised eyebrows. “It’s a decaf chai latte with chocolate, caramel, and chicory. I didn’t know that growing up.” She lifted her lips in disgust, and I laughed again.
“I’ve never had a taste for chicory personally.” Brianne gestured at the empty cup in the sink. “I like my coffee with a touch of milk and a hint of sugar and not a thing else. And not one minute after two pm, or I will be up all night.”
“Hah, I don’t think much would keep me up at this point.” Weariness settled over me the moment I said it. The combination of the drink and being back at a place I used to call home was smoothing out a part of me long coiled tight. And with that weariness came a deep sadness, as words I didn’t know I’d had stored up came tumbling out.
