Chapter Four

I awoke to the racket of my alarm clock. I lay in bed for nearly five minutes trying to unglue my eyelids before I was able to reach across to the nightstand and smash the off button.

I had to think to remember where I was. When I did remember, thoughts flooded into my mind and heat flooded my face. Had I really drunk too much wine last night? Had I really transformed myself from my own version of a southern lady--a person who’d often been described by friends and family as sweet and caring--into a mouthy braggart? Had I, the responsible one, managed to win a know-it-all competition with a man I’d never see again? Me, the mother of a college aged son, though everyone told me I looked much too young to have an eighteen-year-old son. Apparently, I acted it, too.

What had I been thinking? At least, I told myself as I scooted to the edge of the bed, I hadn't turned myself into a southern slut--the worst type of woman according to Mama.

My head pounded and my mouth felt like someone had stuffed it full of dirty cotton. I took two aspirin and headed for the shower where I stood under the steaming water for a good twenty minutes until my head started to clear.

When I climbed out, I wiped steam off the mirror and stared at my face. Eyes definitely puffy, but otherwise, not too much damage. I’d had the little shove I needed. From now on, I was going to stop letting other people talk me into things. No more blind dates, no matter how lonely I got. And no more feeling sorry for myself and no more drinking too much wine, though that one would be easy. I rarely drank, and other than last night I’d never had more than I could handle.

I felt better after the mental scolding and made a resolve to sin no more. I took the time to hunt up my self-improvement list and stick it on the refrigerator with a dolphin-shaped magnet Mama had brought me from Florida a few years ago. Underneath the entries for exercise, makeover, and better job, I added act my age.Unfortunately, five minutes spent on my list translated to twenty extra minutes in morning traffic. I ripped my well-aged minivan around a corner, slid into the Hoganboom lot, and screeched to a halt in my usual parking spot. Odell insists that we park around back next to the stinking Dumpster we share with the seafood market next door. I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes late. Maybe I should add promptness to my list as a gentle reminder.

I scurried inside, only to be blocked by Odell. He was standing in the hall outside his office with feet wide apart, one hand behind his back, and the other inside his jacket over his heart. He was the image of Napoleon, if Napoleon were suffering from hemorrhoids and wore modern clothing.

Patty was frantically eyebrow signaling me over his head. She’d made up for last night by drawing her brows in thicker and blacker than normal. Patty’s signaling clearly read that something was wrong and the something involved me.

“Good morning,” I chirped, dropping my keys in my purse and snapping it shut. I hoped my casual attitude would prompt Odell to step aside and give me clear path to my office. If he was willing to forget about my tardiness, I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up.

“I suppose,” Odell said, not stepping aside. “I suppose,” he said again, sucking in his stomach and drawing himself up to his full five feet four, “you’ll give me some lame excuse as your reason for waltzing in here fifteen minutes late.”

“Traffic,” I said quickly. “I’ll do better in the future.”

I expected him to acknowledge my explanation and move on to a new topic. Either that or go back to what he was doing when I came in--probably rearranging the jewelry display, which seems to give him a lot of satisfaction. Instead his scowl deepened the lines on his face into deep grooves framing his mouth. Napoleon with hemorrhoids and a hernia and a letter from Josephine telling him she was having an affair with the gardener.

“What future?”

I glanced over his head at Patty and saw her face gradually assume the color of a cherry tomato. She made the throat slashing sign and rolled her eyes up in her head until only the whites shone. Something tried to dawn in my awareness, but my thoughts were still sluggish even after the double strength coffee I’d gulped down for breakfast.

“What future?” I squawked. Even I didn’t know what I meant or what Odell meant. “Uhmm, my future as your valued employee?”

“Let’s step into my office, Ms. Caraway.” Odell turned and strode purposefully away from me.

“Step into your office?” Except for yesterday when he scolded me for not getting to work until after lunch, he hadn’t called me Ms. Caraway since the day of my interview. I was always Susan or, when he spoke to customers, “the office girl.”

I trudged after him. I caught a last glimpse of Patty mouthing “sorry” at me before I turned the corner near a shelf sagging under the weight of electronic equipment. Yeah, no doubt the Universe was sending Patty a forgiveness ticket this very second.

Odell’s office was twice the size of mine and twice as cluttered. He swept a pile of Reader’s Digest magazines off a chair by the door and motioned for me to sit.

I would rather have remained standing. The chair he indicated was hemorrhaging wads of cotton stuffing, which would look like hell plastered to my navy slacks. I could tell it was going to wobble—one of the wheels was missing.

Odell glared until I sat. Then he half-hopped to lift himself onto his over-sized desk. A taller man would have perched on the edge, at least one foot on the carpet. But Odell’s legs dangled over the side, his feet not touching the floor. Even so, he'd achieved what I figured was his goal. He was now taller than I was. Height advantage to Odell, score one to nothing.

“When did you plan to give notice?”

“Give notice?” I winced. I was making a habit of repeating what he said to me—in the form of a question. T. Chandler used to do that and it drove me crazy.

“If my niece didn’t need a job, I’d really be in a bind. I have too much to do around here to handle your work, and then I find out you’re walking out on me.”

I cleared my throat. “Odell. Mr. Hoganboom. I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Only a tiny lie.

“Word has reached me that you’re going into business for yourself. Ghost hunting.”

Word had reached him? He made it sound as though a disembodied voice had whispered in his ear when we both knew the information had come from Patty’s big mouth.

“No, of course not--it isn’t happening. I was totally not myself last night when I drank too—never mind. That whole ghost hunting thing, it’s just a joke.”

He steepled his stubby fingers. “What are you saying?”

“Joke,” I said. “Meant to be funny, not meant to be fact. I have no intentions of quitting this job.” Yet. First I had to find a new position.

“I expected you to deny everything. But my trusted source has told me you’re fixing up an old mansion, trolling in tourists to look for ghosts, all that woo-woo stuff.” He held his hands up and waggled his fingers. “I’ve already found a replacement for you. My niece Brenda finally left her no account husband and moved here from Atlanta. She’ll be at the shop in the morning to take over your office. I’ll give you a week to get her trained.”

“You’ll do what?” This couldn’t be happening. I sat wobbling in the chair, my head spinning, and my thoughts not making sense, until the smug-faced Odell slid off his desk and pointed to the door.

“You’re fired,” he said. “Dismissed as of next Wednesday. Go.”

My mouth turned into the Sahara Desert. Score a million to nothing Odell. How would I pay my bills?

I didn’t remember getting up and walking back to my desk. I simply found myself in my own chair, dark tornadoes of thoughts whirling through my mind. Fired? That was something that happened to bad employees, wasn’t it? My face burned and my stomach felt like it was full of sour milk every time I thought of the scene in Odell’s office. I was reminded of a time when I was in fifth grade, and the teacher told me in front of the whole class I’d done the wrong homework assignment. I’d gone home and thrown up all over Mama’s new couch. Thank goodness the plastic cover had saved it from ruin.

I stared at my computer monitor until my nerves steadied. I would speak to Odell and explain about the misunderstanding. I had bills to pay and a house to maintain. A son in college. I couldn’t be out of work. My sister DeLorean was the screw-up and I was the responsible older child. Everyone knew that, even Mama. Especially Mama, who relied on me for everything.

Then why was I sitting here after my boss fired me? I had to convince Odell to change his mind, make him take me back even if I had to crawl across the floor to his desk and beg for mercy and swear I wouldn’t insist on the raise he’d promised. And I’d sign an oath that I wouldn’t quit without giving him at least six months notice.

God, how humbling. I barreled down the hall to his office before I lost my nerve. I had to hover in the doorway until he got off the phone with someone who wanted to pawn his wife’s jewelry while she was away visiting her mother. The slime. The customer, not Odell. Though he could pass for slime.

“What?” he said, banging down the receiver.

“Mr. Hoganboom, I really need this job. I don’t know why you won’t believe me when I say I’m not starting a ghost hunting business or any other kind of business or not leaving for another office or joining the French Foreign Legion. Please give me a chance to--”

“Do I need to make out a pink slip?” He snorted at his own joke. “You do a decent job training my niece Brenda, and I’ll put in a good word for you if somebody calls me for a reference.”

“I can prove it’s a misunderstanding about the ghost hunting. All you have to do is…”

His niece. Click. The light came on. I’d started to ask him to call Veronica to verify that I wasn’t going into business with her. It would be a huge waste of time. The truth was, Odell had been in a bind wanting to help his niece and he didn’t want to pay two people to work in the office. Patty’s gossip had given him the excuse he needed to give my job to Brenda.

“Never mind. I believe I understand the situation.” I gathered my tattered dignity and marched back to my desk with my chin stuck out in front of me.

What was I supposed to do? I fought down rising panic. The job market wasn’t too great right now. In fact it was horrible. As if that wasn’t bad enough, how would it look on my resume when I admitted that I’d been fired? I knew I didn’t have to say that. But they were bound to ask why I’d left my last position. How could I smooth that one over? The job interview sites on the Internet gave lots of advice about how to ace an interview, but I suspect that only worked if you could pull off the business speak they touted.

“Hmm, Ms. Caraway, so you’ve had one employer in the past twenty years. The job lasted ten months and then you left. Why did you resign from your former position? What have you been doing for the last six months other than looking for a new opportunity?”

“Well, you see, I’ve been trying to better myself through a series of self-actualization exercises that will enable me to move up in the corporate world. I plan to be a great asset to potential employers and help them achieve their goals and resolve business issues within a new paradigm shift.”

I almost gagged. Sure, that little speech should get me hired in a flash.

Even if I made up a plausible excuse, they’d know I wouldn’t leave a job before I had another one, not with jobs scarcer right now than gold coins lying in plain view on King Street. Blinking back tears, I put my fingers on my keyboard. Just because I was fired didn’t mean I was going to sit here for the rest of the day and feel sorry for myself.

Odell finally left for lunch, the engine of his SUV rumbling low and deep outside my window as if the macho sound could make up for his whiney voice. Patty waited until he cleared the parking lot before she threaded her way between shelves and fetched up in my office doorway. Silver earrings the size of saucers dangled from her ears and a matching necklace that must have weighed five pounds hung around her neck. She was wearing an ankle length dress tie-dyed in the blue and yellow colors of an Amazon parrot.

“I swear I didn’t mean to tell on you. When I said you were leaving to start a business, Odell had a total fit. He kept waving his short little arms around like the flippers on an upside down turtle.” Her expression didn’t look nearly as apologetic as I thought it should. She pulled the front of her dress away from her chest and fanned herself with her other hand. “It’s sweltering in your office. How do you stand it? Listen, sweetie, I can do you a tarot reading if you want. Give you an idea of how your ghost business is going to work out. Hey, stop looking at me like I stabbed you or something. You were going to leave anyway, right?”

I bit my lip. She could stand there cooling her chest in my office that was hot because the window was stuck shut and Odell wouldn’t let me have a fan. She could say she was sorry when she wasn’t, having already forgiven herself, when here I was out of a job and in danger of losing everything.

A surge of anger rose toward my throat and I fought it back down. After all, I was the one at fault, I was the one who couldn’t keep quiet last night.

“You’re right.” I forced a smile, showing my teeth. “No harm done.”

“Of course not. The Universe knows what it’s doing, it always does. You’ll see when the money starts rolling in from that new job. When’s your last day?”

“I have a week. I’m supposed to train Odell’s niece to take over.” I hoped she liked rude phone calls from customers with cash flow problems.

“I’m going to miss you.” Patty leaned over and gave me a hug. “But who needs Odell, anyway? Stingy. Attitude problem. Drives a car that’s five sizes too big for him so he can compensate.”

“Gee, you think so?”

Patty read at least one self-help book a week and was forever giving me psychological sketches on everyone we knew. I had little faith in her skills, but her lectures on topics such as the inner enabler crossing paths with the classic energy vampire usually made for interesting conversation.

She wanted me to go to lunch with her at Sticky Fingers, but I wasn’t in the mood for ribs. I wasn’t even in the mood for lunch. After she left, I got myself a cup of coffee from the “break room,” a large closet at the back of the store with a coffeepot and a broken microwave crammed into a corner next to a box of paper towels.

Then I logged on to the Internet and started my job search with the online newspaper ads. I found only three positions to apply for, and two of those asked for legal office experience, which I did not have. The other said someone with a good phone voice was needed immediately in a vet’s office. I supposed my phone voice was as good as anyone’s. My fingers shaking, I punched in the number.

“I’m calling about the receptionist position you advertised in the Post and Courier.”

“Right, that ad is pulling a ton of responses. Before I decide if I should have you come in to fill out an application and talk to the doctor, tell me a little bit about yourself. Do you have receptionist experience?” The female voice on the other end of the line sounded like it belonged to someone who was pursing her lips between each sentence.

I glanced at my desk searching for inspiration. Once a customer had come into my office and paid in person. Another time, someone had stood in the doorway and asked if Odell was around.

“Sort of,” I replied. “In my current position I’m responsible for answering the phone and doing the billing as well as dealing with customers who drop by.” Both of them.

“Okay, you work in an office; good for you. But do you have veterinary office experience? Dr. Turnbill specializes in reptiles and he likes to hire people who are used to handling animals.”

“No, but I love animals and I learn fast.” I could even learn to love snakes and lizards if it got me a job. “My mother has two Chihuahuas,” I added, then clamped my mouth shut so I couldn’t say anything else stupid.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see any point in letting you come in. We have a number of better qualified applicants.”

Better qualified applicants? Somehow I doubted the streets of Charleston were overrun with reptile handlers who had office experience. But unless I decided to stake out Dr. Turnbill’s office and speak to him when the dragon manning the front desk left for the day, I wasn’t going to get the job.

I sat back with a sigh. It had taken me six weeks to find this job and that was back when the paper carried three times as many ads as it did now. I could apply for the two legal office positions--assuming the gatekeepers who controlled access to the applications would let me--and hope for a miracle.

If there was only me to consider that’s what I might have done. But I couldn’t forget my son. Even with his scholarship, money from his father, and a part-time job, Christian needed my help.

I turned sideways to face the phone. I glared at it like it was my mortal enemy. When it didn’t burst into flames or melt into a wad of gooey black plastic, I gave up and dialed Veronica’s number. Her voice mail answered with a cheery, “Veronica is unavailable. Please leave a message.”

“It’s me. Susan. I, uh, had second thoughts about the job.” And third and fourth thoughts. “If you still want me, I’m ready to go ghost hunting. In fact, I guess I really need the work.” There, I’d committed, even if Veronica’s offer wasn’t my first choice.

I felt curiously employed now, even though I worried that Veronica might have offered the position to someone else. Once she makes up her mind to do something, she forges ahead like a bull on its way to a willing cow.

But she’d said she’d give me a couple of weeks to think. Surely that meant she wouldn’t look for anyone yet.

As it turned out, I needn’t have sat biting my nails between invoices. She called me back twenty minutes after lunch hour ended. I wasn’t supposed to take personal calls on company time, but what was Odell going to do, fire me?

“Got your message. I didn’t expect you to change your mind so soon.” She sounded cheery and out of breath. I imagined she was running from one real estate closing to another.

“It’s a long sad story, though you’ll probably laugh when you hear it. I’ll tell you all the horrible details when I see you again.”

“Tell me now. I can’t stand the suspense. Come on, Susan, I have an appointment in five minutes.”

“I’ll give you the condensed version, then. My date was, as you predicted, a disaster. I got a little tipsy, tried to one-up him by bragging about my new ghost hunting business, and Odell fired me when Patty told him I was leaving.”

She screamed so loud, I had to yank the phone away from my ear to avoid permanent hearing loss. “You weren’t kidding when you said you needed the job. But this is one of those cases where a bad thing works out for the best; you’ll see when the business starts making money.”

“Sure.” I forced enthusiasm into my voice. She almost sounded like Patty except she didn’t mention that the Universe had a hand in plotting my future. “But I can’t be your partner. I wouldn’t feel right about you taking all the risk and giving me so much. Why don’t you just hire me as your ghost tour manager?”

“Susan.” Exasperated sigh on the other end of the line. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” She mentioned a salary amount. “Is that enough for you to manage on?”

I gulped. “A lot more than I’m making here. Thanks, Veronica.”

“After the business gets off the ground and you get your first raise, we can set up a way for you to buy in. Meanwhile, you know I had to hire a new contractor, so the renovations on the Blackthorn House are behind schedule and it will be at least three weeks. But there will be plenty for you to do getting things ready, helping me with the advertising, all those millions of little business details. And buying the furniture. I’ll send over a packet so you can start working on it right away. You have the time, right? Oh, God, I’m so excited.”

“I definitely have evenings and weekends free.” And soon enough I’d have all day with nothing to do except work for Veronica.

The timetable was fine. I had a week left here training Brenda. My spirits lifted as I did a mental spin job on the ghost hunting business. Besides the job, I had yoga class—and seeing Steve--to look forward to this evening. Sure, I’d be fine, the ghost hunting business would be fine, my whole life would be fine. It had to be. It was the only life I had.