Page 24 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
The whole time, I just kept nodding and smiling like an idiot because what other choice did I have? Look confused and overwhelmed that Hailey, whom I’d already introduced myself as, had agreed to all these things? A better, braver person would have fessed up, but I couldn’t find the courage. I realized it had to do with something Victoria lacked. Because, for all their similarities, Victoria did not have the same playful glint in her eyes that Beck had. Though she gave a pleasant enough smile, her eyes told a different story. Her eyes said she was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and she had to make decisions as such. Strike first and strike hard, Cobra Kai style.
And surely her power reached far. If Beck decided to tell her my real name, would she attack my career? Let The Arlow Group know just how little integrity one of their associates had. It seemed like a stretch, but was it really?
Just in case, I kept my mouth closed and tried to ignore my clammy hands and sweaty brow. I simply had to survive the meeting. Later, I could devise a legitimate excuse for why I couldn’t finish the job. Maybe I’d say I had to take care of a sick relative, or I’d contracted leprosy, or I’d decided to join a convent to atone for all my sins. The last one wasn’t a bad idea at the rate I was going. I’d at least tell her soon, I decided. That way, she’d have time to find someone else to do the job.
Reviewing the contract she’d made with Hailey, I knew two things: one, Victoria could afford anyone in the city for calligraphy services, and two, Hailey owed me a lot of money for taking on this job. The amount only made my anxiety skyrocket. Those numbers said a lot was at stake here.
I couldn’t wait to get far away from Hailey’s deal with these people, that binding contract, and that list of unfinished items. Beck looked up as I exited Victoria’s office, but I fled the scene, riding down the elevator with my back against the wall, heaving in breaths.
As soon as I got to the car, I called Hailey. She needed to know I couldn’t do this job and why.
She answered with a bright, “Hey!”
“So, you know Senior-level Asshole? The one who took my job?”
“Of course. He’s enemy number one.”
“He’s Victoria Atteridge’s brother. He knows I’m lying!”
“What?”
“He was there in another one of his perfect shirts, trying to use Superman vision to read my mind.”
“Superman can’t read minds.”
“You are missing the point!” I screamed at her.
“How about you slow down?”
I did not heed that advice. “Even if he wasn’t there, I can’t do this job, Hailey.” My voice accelerated as I tried to keep up with my racing thoughts. “She needs an experienced team of calligraphers for this job. Not an unseasoned me . . . I have to quit this job and do it soon so she has enough time to find a replacement.”
“Why do you think you can’t do this?” she asked slowly, delicately.
“Because I have a million things going on at work. Because lying makes me uncomfortable. Because I’m out of my league. Because . . . Because I’m not you!”
“You don’t need to be me.”
“Please, please don’t ask me to do this, Hailey.”
Silence stretched between us before she finally conceded. “Okay. I won’t.” I could tell she was trying to hide it, but her disappointment threaded through anyway.
“I’m so sorry,” I choked, the stress of the day getting the best of me. “I know how much your business means to you.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was unfair of me to ask you to do this.”
I felt marginally better after we came up with an excuse for why we had to drop out of the contract. Hailey was prepared to offer a full refund if things got ugly.
But after we hung up, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Victoria’s face when I handed over the three projects I’d brought to the meeting.
Victoria loved the jackets. She’d exclaimed excitedly at the signage and the vibrant sweeps behind her soon-to-be new last name and wedding date. Seeing her stony professionalism break for my art made my heart ascend on hummingbird wings.
When she’d unwrapped the lantern, her face fell to something more reverent. Her fingers ever-so-gently traced the name at the bottom. I knew my lettering and my style inside and out, but I’d had to practice Poppy’s name on paper several times before the paint pen ever touched the lantern. I just felt a lot of love and a lot of pain behind the gesture of the lantern. I wanted to honor that.
As tears welled in Victoria’s eyes, I wondered, not for the first time, who Poppy had been and what had happened to her. I didn’t know anyone in our generation with that name, so I assumed Poppy to be a grandmother, perhaps. Victoria had cleared her throat, eyes still shining as she thanked me.
I dwelled on that moment so much that when I got home, I dove right into the box of hexagon tiles Victoria had sent with me. The soon-to-be place cards were marbled with one half dipped in gold—a beautiful project, just begging to be completed.
And that’s how I spent the evening, ignoring important work emails to finish one last project for Victoria’s wedding.
