Martha was taking off her shoes by the door. “Oh, child, I raised teenagers. Nothing can smell as bad as two fourteen-year-old boys sharing a bedroom.”
Martha always had a way of making me feel better about myself or the stupid things I said. “So, what are you going to do without me around the office?” I teased as we made our way to the bedroom, where my suitcase was open and waiting for us.
“This isn’t your first work trip! I survived when you went to Georgia and worked on the peach farm for two weeks.” She was going through my closet, taking out clothes and inspecting them.
“True, but I’ll be gone for a long time.”
“It’s a rodeo tour! They’ll be around the area, and if not, I’m sure they only do the show on the weekends. And you can travel home if you get too lonely.”
“Why aren’tyouin charge of this project?” I asked, feeling guilty. “You’ve been at the company way longer than I have and have way more experience with big assignments like this.”
“Experience? Are you calling me old?” She teased, tossing a hangerat me. “Well, if you must know, Craig asked who I would recommend.”
It took me half a second to realize she meant Mr. Sterling. “And you suggested me? Why?”
She frowned at my clothes. “Because of this.”
“I beg your pardon?” I gave her a weird look, shovingmy underwear in one of the suitcase pockets. “Because of my clothes?”
She threw her arms out, gesturing to the whole room. “Because Agri-Corp wants someone to get embedded in the tour, to know them, to get down and dirty.”
There was that phrase again, the one that made my stomach flip-flop.
“Allegra, when was the last time you went dancing?”
I laughed. “Dancing? Probably on my dad’s toes when I was two. How about you?”
“Last week!” She launched herself on the bed while I packed socks and shoes. “Jeff,” her husband, “made me a wonderful dinner, picked out some heels, and we went country swing dancing for three hours!” She was practically yelling.
“You two are cute.”
Martha practically growled, her gray curls cascading over my pillows. “Sweetheart, you are in your twenties, you are supposed to be breaking the rules, staying out all night, dancing in the rain, whatever! You act like you’re in your eighties. I suggested you for this because you need to break out of your rhythms. Nail this project like I know you will, and you will make the best marketing director the company has ever seen.”
I tried not to be irritated. “What if I truly enjoy my life?”
“When was the last time you laughed so hard you snorted?” She retorted, watching me fold a ninety-dollar blouse.
I shrugged, no longer in the mood to smile.
“Exactly. You’re not truly enjoying your life until the joy is so big it completely crowds out the worry.”
Her words made me drown in melancholy. I did my bestnot to glance at the dusty box in my closet. “Poetic. Is that on a throw pillow in your house?”
She hesitated. “Possibly, but that only makes it more true.” Her hand was on mine, rubbing my knuckles with her thumb. “Allegra, I hope I’m not overstepping here; my kids always accuse me of that, but it’s because I love them and you. I want you to view this trip as an opportunity to find what makes you happy.”
I gave her a grateful grin, knowing her big heart was in the right place. “You’re not overstepping,” I lied. “I appreciate the way you look out for me, Martha.”
“Then can I offer you one piece of advice?”
I shrugged, knowing she was going to give it to me whether I wanted it or not.
“Kiss a few cowboys out there. Mhm, there’s nothing like the lips of a rugged, dirty country man.”
My jaw dropped open. “I beg your pardon, Martha! It sounds like you’re speaking from experience. And,may I remind you, I am practically an engaged woman.”
She picked up a black lace bra off my bed and threw it at me. “I begyourpardon! Practically engaged with that wetblanket? Just think about it and trust your Martha.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
