Four years ago when Maddy applied for the assistant manager job, she’d falsified her experience. It was only one job. She’d been at a low point and overly ambitious—not that that was an excuse. She wasn’t proud of it. She’d never done anything like that before or since, and she’d nearly come clean to Evangeline a dozen times over the years. She wished now that she had.
“Even if I go to Evangeline I won’t get my job back. And that’s on me. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I did it anyway. Thatismy fault.”
Holly studied her thoughtfully. “What are you going to do, honey?”
“Eat an entire package of Oreos.”
Holly gave her a look. “After that.”
“Look for another job, I guess. At least I’ve got money in the bank. I’m not flat broke or anything. I just feel so... ruined.”
“You are not ruined.”
Maddy’s phone buzzed against her palm, and Holly uncurled her fingers and took it. “It’s Noelle. She’s worried about you. I’ll let her know I’m here and you’re okay.”
“Nice of her to check up on me,” Maddy mumbled, feeling numb after letting out her feelings.
She thought of all the people she was leaving behind at Pirouette. They weren’t friends exactly. She was their boss—used to be their boss. She thought of everything she’d put into her job. All the overtime, all the energy. She’d lived and breathed that place. It was the reason she’d gotten to the ripe old age of thirty-one without a ring on her finger. Well, part of the reason.
She’d loved everything about her job, from the staff to the patrons to the amazing aerial view of Charlotte. It was like throwing a party every day. She’d made the restaurant the most important thing in her life, had made Nick runner-up, and now they were both gone.
“Honey, you’ve got, like, twenty unopened texts on here. And a bunch of missed calls.”
Maddy shook away the cobwebs. “What time is it anyway? And why aren’t you at work?”
“It’s after three, honey. I just got off. Have you been in bed all day?”
“Maybe.”
She was going to have to put out her résumé again—undoctored this time. She could do this. Maybe she’d wind up at an even better restaurant. But they didn’t come much better than Pirouette. Was she willing to move away from Charlotte? She didn’t even want to think about that.
Holly held up the phone. “Who’s this from a 910 area code?”
“Telemarketer probably.”
“They’ve called five times. Look.”
“I don’t recognize the number.”
“They left a bunch of voicemails.”
Maddy took the phone, put it on speaker, and tapped the arrow beside the oldest one, which had been sent yesterday at 3:12—just about the time everything had gone down at Pirouette.
“Um, hi, my name is Connor Sullivan. I’m a friend of your grandmother’s over in Seahaven. I was hoping you could give me a call as soon as possible if you would.”
Maddy frowned at the cryptic message. Her grandma lived alone at the beach. The same cottage where her family had once spent many an idyllic summer.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Holly said.
“Me too.”
She played the second message, sent a couple hours after the first. “This is Connor Sullivan again. Um, I really need to reach someone in the family, so please call as soon as you get this.”
Maddy’s heart sank at his urgent tone. What if something bad had happened to Gram? “This doesn’t sound good.”
“Call him.”
Before she did, Maddy played his most recent message, sent early this morning. Her heart squeezed in dread.
