Page 59 of All's Well that Friends Well
“As a matter of fact, Mr. Brewer,” he says, his eyes jumping from me to Quincey, “Miss Marigold is being offered a different position in the company. One she’s more qualified for. Assuming she accepts, you’ll no longer need to worry about her.”
My brows jump all the way to my hairline as I stare at Luca in surprise. His jaw ticks as he ducks his head in confirmation, telling me he means what he said.
“How—what—” I begin, but Rod’s creaky old voice cuts me off.
“Please, please.” The words shatter the painful quiet as Luca’s old man friend hobbles out into the middle of the room. “Go discuss that elsewhere, and save this old geezer some time to speak, would you? I still haven’t regaled you all with a story of your boss as a young man, and I wassolooking forward to it.”
Luca’s head whips toward Rod long enough that Quincey slips away, around the corner and out of the room. I hear the front door open and close a few seconds later, and it’s not long before everyone’s attention is on the old man now telling a ridiculous story about a college-aged Luca.
I drift closer to Luca and reach out, tugging the sleeve of his shirt as I stare wide-eyed at him. “Am I really being promoted?” I say.
His gaze swings back to me; then he looks around us. There are still a few people watching, so he gives a nondescript grunt and jerks his chin toward the laundry room.
I follow him there, noting the familiar scent of detergent and fabric softener. Normally that smell would make me smile, but right now I’m too off-kilter.
When Luca closes the door behind us, he speaks. “If you want the job,” he says grudgingly, “we would like to offer you the assistant position.”
“I—really?” I blink at him, my mind racing. “You would?”
His broad shoulders jerk into a shrug, avoiding my gaze. “Yes. We haven’t explicitly discussed details yet, but yes.”
I stare. “Is that what that little look was about in the kitchen? The raised eyebrows? The nod? Was that the extent of your conversation about this?” I swallow. “Because this is really exciting. It sounds fun. So if you offer me this job right now and then you end up revoking it later, I will cry.”
“Heaven forbid you cry,” he says. “Yes, that was the extent of the conversation, but apparently this is what Rod wants.”
Is it what you want?It’s the question on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it in. There are more important things to focus on, anyway. My eyes are still burning from what happened in the kitchen; there’s still an old, familiar anxiety in the pit of my stomach that’s trying to feed on the things Quincey said.
“And Rod can do that? He hired me as a janitor, I guess. Is he your boss?” He must be, right?
Luca shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s my boss, yes.”
I nod slowly as excitement, bright and glittery, begins to shine inside of me; it rises like laughter in my chest.
“And this isn’t just because Quincey was being a jerk?” I say quickly; I push away the memory of his words. “You really think I could be a good—what was it? A PR assistant? To make you more likable?”
Luca’s face is definitely grudging, but he nods. “You could be good at it,” he admits. “You’ve shown aptitude already.”
I blink at him. “Have I?”
His expression shifts into something bemused, dumbfounded. “Of course.” A little furrow appears in his brow. “Did you not realize? You’ve helped me with memos. You’ve guided me on how to speak, what to say.”
When he puts it like that…I guess I have.
“I just like helping people be nice,” I say faintly, my mind spinning with the implications of this development. “I like helping people get along.”
“Well, congratulations,” Luca says, his voice dry. “If you want the job?—”
“I want it,” I say. “Yes. I want the job.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Keep in mind this is not necessarily a permanent position?—”
“I don’t care. I want it.” My excitement is turning into something more intense, more raw—a desperate hope, a lifeline to grasp.
This is a chance,my mind whispers.To be someone worth being.
I’m already someone worth being,I tell myself firmly. But it’s hard to believe that when this opportunity is staring me in the face—the opportunity to bemore.
I shove that tangled mess of feelings aside and return to safer ground. This will be great. I’ll get to spend more time with Luca. I’ll probably be making more money. Better than both of those, though—I’ll get to do something I actually enjoy, even if it’s not for very long.
