Driving past the bungalow that’s closest to my house on the way home from a job site, I see a familiar car in the driveway next to one I don’t know. The Mathewses. I slow down as I pass and look to see if I can figure out why they’re at the house that’s been empty since the Clarks moved away, when I spot a figure standing off to the side of the house, and my heart stops.
Ainsley Mathews.
The girl I was too shy to ask out in high school. The girl I’ve crushed on for as long as I’ve had an interest in girls. The girl who’s never quite gotten out of my head, no matter how much time or distance was between us.
And she’s back.
Is she here for good? Is she just visiting for the first time in far too many years? I may have known she’d be a part of my life since I hired her to be my virtual assistant, but I also knew that didn’t necessarily mean she would be anywhere near Bluebell Falls.
I don’t have a ton of answers, but I do know I’m not the same shy kid I used to be. I’ve been through some tough shit, and I’ve grown a lot in the almost two decades since then. If Ainsley is in town, I’m shooting my shot.
Chapter 3
Ainsley
Why I thought I didn’t need much time to unpack my life before I started my new job, I’ll never know. But Past Me has to be having a laugh right now. I’m currently sitting in an office chair with boxes forming a makeshift desk. My bed is a mattress on the floor, and I’ve been living off of the pizza my dad brought over a couple of days ago. I’m pretty sure my entire bathroom is packed in one of these boxes I’m working on, including my vibrators, which is a bit of a downer if I need any form of stress relief in the next few days.
I used to be so organized and on top of everything in my life. This is decidedly the opposite, and I don’t know how to cope with it. I feel frozen. Like there are too many things to do and not enough time to get everything done. As if starting one project feels like too much for my brain right now. On top of that, today is my first day as a virtual assistant. I’ll be honest, the job duties were a little vague, and I’ve only communicated with my boss, Mr. Hutton, twice. I know nothing outside of the fact he owns the nursery in town and his landscaping business, and he needs help with the administrative side of things. The salary wasn’t total shit, and it had immediate availability, which sold me more than anything.
Now, I’m wondering if it was smart to just jump into a random job while my life is literally up in flames. It’s too late now, though, as I login to my email and see one from my new boss waiting for me.
I’m not a quitter, so I might as well suck it up and jump in.
Subject: Today’s List
Good morning, Ms. Mathews,
I’d like to start every morning by sending you a list of tasks to accomplish for the day. I might add some things as they come up, but I endeavor to keep it as close to the list I send you in the morning as possible.
This morning, I wanted to start light, so we can both get used to this system and adjust as needed.
Go through emails and mark anything urgent that needs my immediate attention. (Ongoing through the day.)
Go through receipts on the company drive and organize them into months.
If possible, go through our current advertisement and liven it up. Make it more appealing, and send it to me when you are done.
Please let me know if you have any questions,
Ledger Hutton
Well, at least this seems easy so far, although ”make the current advertising more appealing” leaves a lot of room for interpretation. I’m not a marketer by any means, but I’ll give it a go and see where we get. Everything else is straightforward, so I follow theinstructions he attached to log in to the company drive and start exploring, trying to learn about their current organization.
By lunch, I have all the receipts organized—the files were absolute chaos—and have gone through most of the boss’s inbox—also a hot mess. I haven’t heard another peep from Mr. Ledger Hutton, but this girl needs to eat some damn food before I keel over from starvation.
I really don’t want to go anywhere, but my lack of planning has forced my hand. Heading to the diner downtown is probably one of my only options for a quick lunch, outside of the pizza I’ve been living off of. I look down at my galaxy leggings and black razorback tank, and shrug. Good enough. I’m not trying to impress anyone anyway. Besides, most of these people have seen me in the dreaded preteen phase, so I think I’m okay. Grabbing my keys and my sunglasses, I jump into my car and drive the ten minutes it takes to get to Sal’s Diner.
