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Madison
“We’re pretty casual around here,” Ellen explained as she showed me my desk. “No staying until midnight unless there’s a genuine emergency, and even then, we’ll probably just tell the client to wait until morning.”
“That sounds healthy,” I said, setting my bag down on my new desk. It was simple but functional. Just a regular office setup with family photos of people I didn’t know still in the frames.
Ellen noticed me looking at them. “Oh, those are from the last person who sat here. Feel free to toss them in the drawer or bring your own.”
“Thanks.” I glanced around at my new coworkers. “So what’s our current project load?”
“We’ve got three major developments in progress,” Ellen replied, handing me a folder. “The Riverside apartment complex, the Main Street revitalization, and the Hartford medical center expansion. I’m putting you on Riverside to start.”
I flipped through the folder. The project was similar to ones I’d managed at Knight Industries, but at about a quarter of the scale.
“Looks straightforward enough,” I said.
Ellen smiled. “Great. The team meeting is at ten if you want to jump right in.”
By lunchtime, I’d met most of my coworkers and gotten a reasonable grasp on the Riverside project. Everyone seemed genuinely nice–no office politics or passive–aggressive behavior that I could detect.
“So what brought you to our little company from the big city?” asked Dave, one of the project coordinators, as we ate lunch in the break room.
I took a bite of my sandwich, buying time. “Needed a change. New York was getting too hectic.”
“Well, we’re glad to have you,” he said easily, not pressing for details. “Your experience will be super valuable here.”
The afternoon flew by as I reviewed contracts and schedules. Before I knew it, it was 4:45, and people were starting to pack up.
“You heading out?” Ellen asked, stopping by my desk.
I looked up, surprised. “Oh, is it that time already?”
“It is indeed. First day’s officially over.” She grinned. “See you tomorrow, Madison.”
By five, the office was nearly empty. I packed up my things, still feeling strange about leaving so early. At Knight Industries, I’d be at least three hours away from going home.
The drive back to our new house took about thirty minutes. When I stepped out of the cab, I noticed the lights were on and could hear Mom’s voice through the open kitchen window. She was on the phone, her tone animated.
“You should see her, Diane. She’s so brave, starting over like this.”
I paused on the porch, not wanting to interrupt.
“No, she hasn’t said anything about why we really left. But I have my suspicions. That Alexander Knight fellow, yes, the one in the papers! She was working directly with him. And then suddenly we’re moving to Connecticut? I won’t push her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. I just hope she’s not heartbroken. You know how Madison is, always keeping everything inside.”
I’d heard enough. I deliberately made noise opening the front door.
“Mom, I’m home!” I called out.
“Oh, Diane, I’ve got to go. Madison’s home. Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye!”
Mom appeared in the hallway, trying to look casual. “Hi, sweetheart! How was your first day?”
“Good,” I said, hanging up my coat. “Different, but good.”
“I made lasagna,” she said, following me into the kitchen. “Figured you’d be hungry after your first day.”
The kitchen smelled amazing, with garlic and tomato sauce and melted cheese.
“Smells delicious,” I said, washing my hands at the sink. “So who’s Diane?”
Mom busied herself with the salad. “Just an old friend. She lives in Vermont now. We reconnected on F******k.
“And you were filling her in on our big move?”
“Just catching up.”
“Mom,” I said, turning to face her. “You know you can ask me things directly, right? You don’t have to speculate with your friends about why we moved.”
She sighed. “I didn’t want to pry. You’ve seemed fragile lately.”
I laughed without humor. “Fragile? Mom, I quit my job, moved us to another state, and started a new career in the span of two weeks. I’m not fragile.”
“You’re right,” she conceded. “But you are hiding something. I’m your mother, Madison. I know when something’s wrong.”
I busied myself getting plates from the cabinet. “Can we just have dinner? I’m starving.”
She let it drop, and we spent the meal talking about my new office and her plans for the garden. But I could feel her eyes on me, studying me for clues about what I wasn’t saying.
The next few weeks fell into a comfortable routine. I went to work, came home, helped Mom with house projects on weekends, and tried not to think about Alexander or the baby growing inside me. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment in town, where no one knew me or my history.
The doctor confirmed what I already knew: I was about nine weeks along, and everything looked normal. I left
Chapter
with prenatal vitamins and a handful of pamphlets about what to expect.
I still hadn’t told Mom. Every time I tried, the words stuck in my throat. How could I explain that I was carrying the child of a man who hadn’t bothered to respond when I told him about the pregnancy? A man who was now engaged to someone else?
One Friday evening, I was sorting through a box of kitchen items when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Mom called from the living room.
I heard the door open, followed by a squeal of delight.
“Hazel! What a wonderful surprise!”
I dropped the mug I was unwrapping and hurried to the door. Sure enough, there was Hazel, standing on our porch with a weekend bag and a huge grin.
“Surprise!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. “I decided I couldn’t wait any longer to see your new place.”
“How did you even find us?” I asked, hugging her back.
“You sent me the address, dummy,” she laughed. “I rented a car and followed the GPS. Now, are you going to invite me in or what?”
We spent the evening showing Hazel around our house and the small downtown area. She oohed and aahed appropriately at everything, saving special excitement for the empty storefront I’d been eyeing.
“Oh my god, it’s perfect,” she gushed, pressing her face against the glass. “You have to open your café here.”
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” I protested, but even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.
“Please,” Hazel scoffed. “I’ve known you too long. You’ve already picked out the paint colors in your head.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been sketching layout ideas during lunch breaks and researching small business loans
online.
The next day, we took Hazel on a tour of the area, including the nearby park, the farmer’s market, and the antique shops that drew tourists on weekends.
“It’s so charming,” Hazel said as we walked along the river path. “Like something from a movie.”
“It’s quiet,” I agreed. “No honking taxis or drunken neighbors fighting at 3 AM.”
“How’s the new job?” Hazel asked.
“Different. Slower paced. People actually care about work–life balance.”
“Sounds awful,” Hazel joked. “No screaming bosses or impossible deadlines?”
“Nope. My boss actually apologized for calling me after hours last week.”
We both laughed at its absurdity compared to our Knight Industries days.
That evening, Mom insisted on cooking a special dinner for Hazel’s visit. She shooed us out of the kitchen and told us to relax in the living room.
“Your mom seems happy here,” Hazel observed, curling up on the sofa.
“She is. She’s joined a book club and a gardening society already.”
“And you? Are you happy?”
I considered the question. “I’m content. It’s peaceful here.”
Hazel studied me for a moment. “You know what? I can see it. You seem more relaxed.”
“No more running around like a headless chicken trying to please an impossible boss,” I said lightly.
“When are you going to tell her?” Hazel asked quietly, nodding toward the kitchen.
I sighed. “Soon. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”
“Madison, you’re going to start showing eventually. Better to tell her now than have her figure it out on her own.
11
“I know, I know. It’s just… once I say it out loud to her, it becomes even more real.”
“It’s already real,” Hazel said gently. “But whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”
“Girls! Dinner’s ready!” Mom called from the kitchen.
We enjoyed a delicious meal of roast chicken, potatoes, and fresh vegetables from the farmer’s market. Mom kept us entertained with stories of her new friends in town and their various eccentricities.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
