rather listen to any of them than have a conversation with Ethan Thomas.
Holding up my phone, I stand with a “Let me know if we board,” and get nothing but a noncommittal grunt in return.
The phone rings again but it’s not my sister on the screen, it’s an unfamiliar number with a St. Paul area code. “Hello?”
“I’m calling for Olive Torres?”
“This is Olive.”
“This is Kasey Hugh, human resources at Hamilton Biosciences. How are you?”
My heart bursts into a gallop as I mentally flip through the dozens of interviews I’ve had in the past two months. They were all for medical-science liaison positions (a fancy term for the scientists who meet with physicians to speak more technically than sales folk can about various drugs on the market), but the one at Hamilton was at the top of my list because of the company’s flu vaccine focus. My background is virology, and not having to learn an entirely new biological system in a matter of weeks is always a bonus.
But to be frank, at this point I was ready to apply to Hooters if that’s what it would take to cover rent.
With the phone pressed to my ear, I cross to a quieter side of the terminal and try not to sound as desperate as I’m feeling. After the bridesmaid dress fiasco, I am far more realistic about my ability to pull off the orange Hooters shorts and shimmery panty hose.
“I’m doing well,” I say. “Thanks for asking.”
“I’m calling because after considering all the applicants for the position, Mr. Hamilton would like to offer you the medical scientist liaison position. Are you still interested?”
I turn on my heel, looking back toward Ethan as if the sheer awesomeness of these words is enough to set off a flare gun of joy over my head. He’s still frowning down at his knitting magazine.
“Oh my God,” I say, free hand flapping in front of my face. “Yes! Absolutely!”
A paycheck! Steady income! Being able to sleep at night without fear of impending homelessness!
“Do you know when you can start?” she asks. “I have a memo here from Mr. Hamilton that reads, ‘The sooner, the better.’ ”
“Start?” I wince, looking around me at all the cheapo travelers wearing plastic leis and Hawaiian print shirts. “Soon! Now. Except not now now. Not for a week. Ten days, actually. I can start in ten days. I have . . .” An announcement plays overhead, and I look to see Ethan stand. With a frown, he gestures to where people are starting to line up. My brain goes into excitement-chaos overdrive. “We just had a family thing and—also, I need to see a sick relative, and—”
“That’s fine, Olive,” she says calmly, mercifully cutting me off. I squeeze my forehead, wincing at my stupid lying babble. “It’s just after the holidays and everyone is still crazy. I’ll put you down for a tentative start date of Monday, January twenty-first? Does that work for you?”
I exhale for what feels like the first time since I answered the phone. “That would be perfect.”
“Great,” Kasey says. “Expect an email soon with an offer letter, along with some paperwork we’ll need you to sign ASAP if you choose to officially accept. A digital or scanned signature is fine. Welcome to Hamilton Biosciences. Congratulations, Olive.”
I walk back to Ethan in a daze.
“Finally,” he says, with his carry-on slung over one shoulder and mine over the other. “We’re the last group to board. I thought I was going to—” He stops, eyes narrowing as they make a circuit of my face. “Are you okay? You look . . . smiling.”
My phone call is still playing on a loop in my ears. I want to check my call history and hit redial just to make sure Kasey had the right Olive Torres. I was saved from terrible food poisoning, managed to snag a free vacation, and was offered a job in a single twenty-four-hour span? This sort of string of luck doesn’t happen to me. What is going on?
Ethan snaps his fingers and I startle to find him leaning in, looking like he wishes he had a stick to poke me with. “Everything okay there? Change of plans, or—?”
“I got a job.”
It seems to take a moment for my words to sink in. “Just now?”
“I interviewed a couple weeks ago. I start after Hawaii.”
I expect him to look visibly disappointed that I’m not backing out of this trip. Instead he lifts his brows and offers a quiet “That’s