“So,” Emmy said into the silence. “Bright and Jared.”
“Yeah, looks like. Oh, and you might have to write a romance novel real quick. You know, when you get some free time.”
“What? Why?”
Will smiled as he explained the conversation he’d had with Jared and Bright. She let out a surprised laugh when she heard the lie he’d invented.
“A romance novelist, huh? That’s the best you could come up with?”
“It was on my mind. I panicked.”
Emmy shook her head, but she was smiling. “I’m not gonna write a book so you can save face. We’ll burn that bridge if and when we get to it.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. I didn’t have a choice about the lie. I never got around to asking you what you do for a living.” He paused a moment. When it became apparent she wasn’t going to fill him in, he nudged her with his elbow. “So? What do you do?”
Emmy fidgeted with a loose thread on her shirt. “I’m a concierge at a midrange hotel halfway between my apartment and the Cities.”
“Which cities?”
“The Twin Cities. Minneapolis and Saint Paul.”
He glanced over at her and noted she was still looking down. Her voice had gone quiet and hesitant for what might have been the first time in their short acquaintance. “What’s wrong with being a concierge?”
She shrugged. “Nothing really. It’s a job. It pays the bills. It’s just not exciting.”
“Not every career has to be exciting.”
“Right.”
“How did you come to be a concierge at a midrange hotel halfway between your apartment and the Twin Cities?” he prompted.
“Well, first I went to community college and tried really hard to discover my calling, whatever that ended up being. I was pretty open-minded about it. You know, like maybe an eagle would roost outside my window, and I would think ‘Aha! I’m meant to be a wildlife conservationist!’ Or I’d join a music appreciation club and discover my passion for composition. But that didn’t happen, so I majored in Business Management with a minor in Hospitality. Not because those areas captivated me, but because they seemed to cover a lot of ground career-wise. Straight outof college, I tried my hand at managing a restaurant, but I couldn’t stand the stress. After that, I tried being a bank teller. Respectable; less stressful. The problem was, when I wasn’t worrying about bank robbers, I was bored out of my mind.” She paused, looked down at her hands, which twisted together in her lap. “I’m rambling.”
He crossed his arms on the steering wheel and leaned forward. “That’s okay. It’s a good ramble.”
Noting his position, Emmy looked around and appeared surprised that they’d gotten back to the house and he’d already stopped the car.
“Wow, when I wrap myself up in self-pity, I don’t hold back.”
“You weren’t wrapped up in self-pity,” Will told her, and got out of the car. He waited for her to do the same. “You were telling me about yourself. I, for one, think it’s admirable that you refuse to settle for anything less than a perfect fit when it comes to your work. A lot of people would get into a rut and think there’s no way out, or no reason to try to get out. You were self-aware enough to recognize a poor fit, and brave enough to start over from scratch. Multiple times.”
Emmy simply didn’t know what to say to him. He was just like her parents and her sister—self-assured and confident in his career path. Like her family, he had clearly felt a pull toward the career he wanted and needed in his life, and he’d pursued that path without straying or hesitating. Emmy, meanwhile, had wandered around in some kind of proverbial maze, questioning her own judgment at every turn.
She couldn’t think of a way to reply to him without saying something clichéd like, “You wouldn’t understand,” so she said nothing as she followed him into the house. Will either didn’t notice her silence or didn’t mind it, because he rolled right through it.
“So why not landscape design? You’re clearly good at it and passionate about it.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have any real experience with it.” She didn’t mention that she also took courses in ecology, biology, and soil composition at college, but was too scared to major in anything so specific. It was too embarrassing to admit that she’d chickened out every time she let herself think seriously about turning her gardening hobby into a career. It had always felt like her true calling… right up until she faced the prospect of trying and failing. She’d kept waiting for a sign, some definitive proof that she could, andshould, do it. “My parents both have brown thumbs, so they left all the gardening and stuff to me when I still lived at home. I stop by every now and then to check on things. That’s pretty much all I’ve done aside from touching up your yard. I’m good with plants.” She shrugged. “It’s just a knack, though.”
Will stopped in the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. He slung her a look of confusion. “Why does that mean you can’t make a career out of it?”
Emmy was getting flustered. She noted the bottle in his hand, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her business if he wanted to follow up a trip to the bar with a nightcap. “Because it’s a hobby. I’m not professionally trained. I just watched some YouTube videos and read Wikipedia articles.”
Will shook his head slowly as if he couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of her mouth. “You think you can’t be a landscaper because you don’t have some kind of certificate or license for it? Lots of people do things they didn’t train for.”
“Look, I know it’s not that late, but I had a long day and I’m tired. Can we pick this up another time? I’m probably going to crash in a minute.”
She was very obviously trying to escape, and she had no doubt he was aware of that. It was a relief when he said good night without calling her out for her cowardice. He went to the cabinet to grab a glass for his whiskey. Emmy made her retreat while he poured.
