was determined to find a job before my mother got home. Any job. I was past the point in life where I could afford to be picky.
Sadly, the want ads in the Blue Mountain Times weren’t much more promising than they had been the last time I picked through them. To my dismay, I saw the listing was already up for my waitressing shift at the diner. Rodney the Toad wasn’t wasting any time seeking my replacement.
I scrolled down through the listings, many of which were seasonal and wouldn’t start back up until spring. All of the nearby ski resorts were full up and things like ziplining and rafting were definitely warm weather-based. Plus, with my bum wrist, it wasn’t like I could tackle anything uber physical.
Story of my life.
Irritated, I snapped the laptop shut and stared out the window, massaging the ache in my wrist more out of habit than any real pain. My mother was right. At my age, not knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up was just plain sad.
Maybe because the one thing I had truly wanted to be had been taken away from me at sixteen. My gaze fell on the 1st place ribbons, the trophies and newspaper clippings on the built-in bookcase across the way. Artistic gymnastics, first place. Six years running. A photo of me in midair, doing a back handspring off the balance beam. The headline read—Local gymnast is heading for Olympic glory.
It had been more than hope though. It had been my whole life for as long as I could remember. Fate might as well have minced up to me, cracked her gum in my face, and said, “Sorry, Joey. No gold medal for you. How about a lifetime of scraping by instead?” I’d been groping for a purpose ever since.
My cell chirped, alerting me to a new text message. I dug it out of my pocket and looked down at the screen. It was from my bestie, Darcy Abrams. Call me when you have a sec.
I hit the green phone icon and held the device to my ear.
“No,” Darcy barked in place of a greeting. “Parker Abrams, you take that pincushion out of your mouth this instant.”
Darcy was the quintessential stay-at-home-mom with a side hustle. She was a whiz with a sewing machine and had translated her skills into creating custom outfits for dogs themed after book characters. Mr. Darcy for Dachshunds. Gandalf for Great Danes. Sherlock Holmes for Shih Tzus. It seemed like a real niche market to me but her Etsy store was going gang-busters.
The internet was a weird place.
Her home life was something of a disaster though, what with five boys under the age of ten, all of whom were home on a snow day. Between feeding, bathing, and keeping her kids alive and orders that needed to be made and shipped, my friend had a full and boisterous life. Sometimes I filled in watching the rugrats so she could fill her orders promptly.
“Joey, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Darcy asked when she finally refocused on the phone.
“Rodney let me go.”
She made a sympathetic sound. “Margarita Monday?”
“Can you get away?” I asked as something on her end crashed.
“My mother-in-law is staying with us through next week,” Darcy said through clenched teeth. “Mike owes me and I plan to take it out of him in girl-time.”
“Sounds like a plan. Mom’s going out. I’ve got the salt and limes if you bring the tequila.”
“Can’t wait. I need to get out of this zoo for a spell before I lose my ever-loving mind. No, Dylan! Take that back into the kitchen this minute!”
There was another crash and then Darcy sighed, “Joey, I’ve got to go. See you at seven.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said and then hung up.
Damn it, if Darcy could deal with that circus and make a buck there had to be some job that I could swing. I was a free agent and could come and go as I pleased.
With my resolve back in place, I opened the laptop and continued reading the want ads. I paused on an unusual one that I must have overlooked at first glance.
Assistant wanted immediately. Reliable person needed to help out with life coaching. Some nights and weekends. No experience necessary.
Life coaching. Huh. Didn’t think that was something that would be lucrative around these parts. Then again, some weekenders and tourists might require such a thing. Last year we’d gotten our first Starbucks. They’d fired me