How did I know that? Well, because they were the exact pair I’d been fawning over for years, and I could spot that intricate stitching anywhere.
“Thank you so much, Ms. Hansen. I probably should’ve brought a bag, but it was too late by the time I realized it.”
“No worries. But what did I say about Ms. Hansen? Please, it’s Donna.” She chuckled.
“Donna. Got it.”
“We’ve got your desk set up right over here in the corner. There is a nice window that overlooks Main Street. I thought you might enjoy the scenery, maybe even use it as a source of inspiration.” Her soft eyes made me feel welcome.
“I’m going to be writing?” I asked.
Her brow furrowed. “Isn’t that what you were hoping to do? I mean, I just figured it was, but darn it, I never asked. I’m sorry. Was there something—”
“Oh my gosh, no. It’s absolutely what I wanted to do, I just wasn’t expecting to get the chance,” I responded, beaming from the news.
“This is a newspaper, darlin’; you know that, right?” She grinned, showing all of her perfectly situated teeth while placing some of my belongings down on the chutney-colored wooden desk in front of us.
“Ha. Yes, I do.” I smiled. “I’m just really glad to be here and grateful for you taking a chance on me.”
“And we’re just as happy to have you. You’ll love the team. They usually don’t roll in until around nine or so. I figured you might want some time to get settled before everyone gets here, but feel free to start coming at nine after today.”
“That sounds great,” I answered.
“I’ll let you get settled, but please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. The bathroom is just behind that wall. We have a tiny little kitchen in the back with a fridge and microwave—nothing fancy, but it gets the job done.”
“That’ll be perfect, thank you,” I said, walking around to the other side of my desk.
Mydesk.
I was thirty years old and I’d never had a desk of my own—not in the traditional sense anyway.
This felt good.
For the first time in what seemed like my entire life, it felt like I had found the starting line of the right path.
I hadn’t quite shaken the stubborn guilt, especially in moments like this, but I tried my best to repeat what Maggie had said to me—You can’t punish yourself for things you’ve done or the decisions you’ve made—using her words as a tool to tuck it away.
Donna was going to let me write, and that was what I needed to focus on.
Chapter Nine
Magnolia Nelson, answer your damn phone.
The dull ring of the call through my car’s speakers was drowning out my patience. If this woman didn’t pick up her—
“Hey, Scar, what’s up? How’s your first day going? Wait, isn’t it only like one in the afternoon? Why are you calling me already?”
“Holy shit. Thank god. I thought you weren’t going to answer,” I said, my words plowing through my lips. “You’re going to die.”
“Oh no. What?”
“Two things, actually.” I breathed in before releasing a long breath. “My team? You know the one Donna was sure I’d just love? I think she was very much misinformed, because while that team consists of Donna—who is lovely—and another younger girl named Moriah, who I think might have graduated a few years after us…” I paused.
“Okay…”
“It also consists of fucking Delilah Boudreau and two of her little clones,” I huffed.
“You’re kidding me…”
