Minnie: We’re not having conversations—just plotting for you. On the app, which you can read.
He’s a really nice guy.
Claire: If you lived here, he’d probably try to date you.
Minnie: I’m not the one who should date Miles.
Claire: I need a job.
Minnie: Smooth change of subject.
But seriously. You shouldn’t beworking at a coffee shop anyway.
Claire: I’m not sure what I should be doing.
Minnie: You should bake.
Claire: I don’t think cookies will pay the bills.
Minnie: They might...
What I wouldn’t give for your oatmeal butterscotch cookies right now...
Claire: I could teach you how to make them...
Minnie: It’s not the same.
The day I get back, I’m expecting a whole plateful.
Claire: You got it.??
Chapter 12
I’m holding my vibrating phone in my hand, staring at the screen.
It’s John.
Really, universe? Right now, right at this second?
It’s Thursday afternoon, after a full morning of dropping off résumés and checking in with the places I’ve already been, and John is the last person I want to talk to.
I just left a microbrewery that’s apparently looking for a hostess. After going in with my brightest, happiest face screwed in place, the manager, who could not have been a day over twenty-five, took one look at me, leaned over and said something to the young woman standing next to him, and left.
It was obvious that “middle-aged mom” was not the vibe they were going for.
Something about this particular rejection felt... personal.
So there’s that.
Now, John.
I take a deep breath, put on my mental armor, and click the green button.
“So you’re still in Chicago,” he says, forgoing any kind of greeting.
“Hello to you too.” I sigh.
Silence.
