Pull You In (Rivers Brothers #3) - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,3
by design. Which meant I typically saw employees themselves, sometimes the close relatives of said employees if they stopped by to pick someone up for lunch or to drop something off, the mail carriers and delivery people, and the occasional woman who stopped by to see if we were hiring.
Most of the day, I was left to my own devices, filing things, ordering supplies, working out the payroll. It wasn't the typical task done by a receptionist, but Fiona had put a lot of faith in my unfinished accounting degree.
It was a good job. It allowed me to be in my own little world most of the time, but also have some people around to talk to, to share lunch with on occasion. Plus, Fiona was a generous employer, paying a more than fair salary as well as benefits.
She offered paid vacation as well, but I never took it. The idea of going to strange places with strange people didn't sound like a good time to me.
I hadn't taken vacation in over a decade, when I'd first started working there as a college student.
Until now, of course.
I mean they were calling it a "wilderness retreat" and it was, technically, a work trip. But it was reminiscent of a vacation.
Which was what had me staring at my stack of books on my nightstand.
Because it was a long flight.
And I wanted to avoid having to speak to any seat-mates if possible.
But I also couldn't handle the embarrassment of someone seeing me reading books with those types of titles.
I grabbed the one I was reading anyway, stuffing it into my bag for possible private reading at the retreat. I figured there would be scheduled group activities followed by periods where we could mingle if we wanted to, or possibly do other sorts of unplanned group activities. I, however, would opt to spend that time alone, recharging. These people knew me, they would understand without getting offended. It was the reason I had decided to go instead of create some made-up excuse for why I had to stay in Navesink Bank, everyone knowing I was lying, but too kind to call me on it.
"It will be good for you, honey," my mother had told me when I'd first gotten the invite, a little last-minute on a Friday night when we were set to leave on Monday. I guess that was why I hadn't heard anyone talking about it at work.
Fee wasn't exactly an absent-minded boss, but she was often spontaneous, so she probably threw it all together as a surprise.
And it left me very little time to freak out and talk myself out of it.
I'd done some of the freaking out, of course. It was my nature, after all, when faced with uncertain circumstances. So I did my usual routine of calling my mom, talking it out, listening to her calm, reassuring voice, then feeling brave enough to shoot Fee a text telling her I would be there.
Once the text was out, there was no turning back. So I spent my weekend researching weather patterns for this time of year in Washington state, then packing accordingly, putting self-waterers into my plants, even though I asked my mom to drop in to check them. I had a particularly problematic Fiddle Leaf Fig that I was worried about, and had put too much work into to let die over the five-day trip. I cooked what was left of the perishables, freezing what I couldn't eat. Growing up with a single mom on a tight budget, I learned not to waste anything. And then I'd watched video after video online about traveling by plane. I'd done it once or twice as a kid, back when we used to travel to visit my grandparents, but back then, I'd had none of the anxiety that came with when to arrive, how to get through security, what to expect.
I liked being prepared. Overly so, if at all possible.
But it was bright and early Monday morning, the sun nothing but a wish and a promise on the horizon, and my mom was waiting for me down in her car, being nice enough to drop me at the airport just so I could avoid having to get a car to drive me on top of everything else.
That was one of the things I appreciated most about my mom. She would push me in some ways, like encouraging me to take this trip—but also ease the transition—like she was doing by driving me.