A Mother's Reflection. Elissa Ambrose

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ it was such a charming smile. He looked almost boyish, completely unlike the photographs back in her room at the inn.

      This time he was the one to extend a hand. “What do you say we start again? I’m Adam Wessler, the arrogant, obnoxious director of this wonderful new establishment.”

      “Rachel Hartwell,” she answered back, returning his handshake. She’d once read that a handshake told a lot about a person’s character. His was warm…protective…

      She realized she had been holding on too tightly, and feeling the color rise in her face, tore her hand away. “You’re not that obnoxious,” she joked in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

      He let out a hearty roar. “Finally we’re agreed on something. Have a seat, Rachel Hartwell, and we’ll get down to business. Sorry about the folding chairs. As you can see, not all the furniture has arrived yet.” He sat down beside her. “Why don’t you start by telling me a little about yourself?”

      “You don’t have my résumé? I have extras. Here, let me—”

      He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. “I have your résumé. I know what it says. I want you to tell me something I don’t know. Something about the kind of person you are. It’s not such an unreasonable request.”

      What could she tell him that wasn’t on her résumé? After years of working and studying she’d finally earned her degree, and since then she’d been teaching at a private school in Hartford. Her résumé also described her active involvement in musical and children’s theater. Wasn’t she what a community-based job required? A well-rounded, involved person? What else did he need to know? “I don’t understand,” she said with trepidation.

      No longer smiling, he said, “I’ll give you a hint. You can start by telling me why you want to teach here.”

      “I’ve always loved kids,” she began slowly. “And musical theater. So it was only natural that I would want to pursue a career that involved both.” When he didn’t respond, she felt her panic rising. What could she say that wouldn’t give away her secret? She had to think of something. She had to land this job. And then she remembered the winter scene hanging on the wall in the corridor. The painting wasn’t only about the joys of childhood; it was about the joys of small-town living. “There’s something else.”

      “And that is…?”

      “I’m tired of the city. I find it too large, too impersonal. I want to live in a small, old-fashioned community. Like you said earlier, apple pie, that sort of thing. You know what I mean, where everyone knows everyone’s business.” As long as no one finds out mine, she thought.

      “You seem to have developed a few notions,” he said testily. “It’s true that we’re a close-knit group, but we’re not a bunch of hicks. We nurture the same interest in the arts as do the larger cities, and we don’t take well to being patronized.”

      “You don’t understand. I wasn’t—”

      “Tell me what makes Rachel Hartwell tick.”

      What was he getting at? What could she say that would persuade him to hire her? Then it dawned on her. He was talking about character. “I sent you a list of references. Didn’t you receive it with my résumé?”

      None of the people on the list knew anything about her past. Equally important, the school where she taught was closed for the summer. She didn’t want anyone there to know she might not be returning. At this point it wouldn’t be wise to burn her bridges behind her. Eventually Adam would want to speak to someone regarding her most recent employment, but verification would have to wait until fall. By then, if everything went as planned, it wouldn’t matter.

      But if her plan failed, she would return to Hartford. She couldn’t remain in Middlewood, knowing that Megan was so close yet so out of reach. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life looking around every corner, down every street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her daughter, living solely for those moments.

      “You still don’t get it,” Adam said, his gaze boring into her. “I want you to tell me why I should give you this job. Give me one good, concrete reason.”

      She tried to think of a reply that would please him yet be true to her ideals. “I know what it’s like to have a dream,” she said finally. “I also know what it’s like to have no one to help you nurture that dream. Some children want to be doctors, some firefighters. I wanted to be a skater—but competition was out of the question. Everyone knows how expensive that route is, and now, of course, I’m too old to compete. But if I can make a difference in someone’s life, if I can help a child realize his or her dream, then I’ll feel as if I’ve succeeded.”

      The words she spoke were true. All her life she’d had a need to nurture. When she was small, she’d brought home every stray cat in the neighborhood, and when she was older, she’d gone out of her way to take the side of the underdog. Her mother used to chide her endlessly. “Lie down with dogs and you’ll get up with fleas,” she used to say.

      “You realize that working here would mean a decrease in salary,” Adam said, glancing at her résumé. “This is a community center, not a private school.”

      “I want to work in a more liberal environment,” she said honestly. She wasn’t thrilled about taking a cut in pay—paying rent on two apartments would be expensive and the months ahead would be lean—but she was looking forward to working in a more relaxed environment. She was tired of the senseless customs, the strict dress code, the arbitrary rules imposed by the school where she taught. “Besides,” she added, “there are benefits. For example, the arena. I still love skating, even though it’s no longer my life dream. And it’s not as rushed here in Middlewood as it is in the city.” This time she was careful not to use the term old-fashioned. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

      The interview wasn’t going as she expected. He was supposed to ask her a few perfunctory questions and get on with it, but the closed look on his face told her he didn’t buy what she was saying. Anyone with half a mind could see that she was perfect for the job. What was he getting at?

      “Unfortunately, I don’t think this is going to work out,” he said.

      Unfortunately? Was this what it all came down to? All her hopes crushed with one dismissive word? “I don’t understand. Won’t you just—”

      “Do I look like Grace? Puh-leeze!”

      A young girl with the brightest red hair Rachel had ever seen had barged into the office. “Will you puh-leeze inform Erika that I have no intention of playing Grace? What’s the matter with that woman? Can’t she see I’m meant to be Annie?”

      In that moment reality merged with dream, and Rachel wasn’t sure if she’d just awakened or fallen asleep. The room around her blurred, and she had to blink to hold back tears that were threatening to steal from her eyes. Tears of joy at seeing her daughter. Tears of joy at hearing her voice.

      Adam had asked for one good reason, a concrete reason. There she was, her hands on her hips, scowling in the doorway.

      Chapter Two

      If it weren’t for the hair, she would have sworn she was looking in a mirror, one that reflected what she had looked like at Megan’s age. She gripped the edge of her chair. Would anyone else notice?

СКАЧАТЬ