Page 1 of Willowbrooke
CHAPTER 1
The Job
“My life is over, Mina.” I sniffled into the phone.
“Penny…” Mina sighed. “You knew going in this wasn’t going to be an easy task, but you tried anyway. That’s what’s important.”
Mina, ever the optimist and my perpetual hype-girl, was trying her hardest to build me back up, which was precisely why I had called her in the first place. But I was feeling so low, I wasn’t ready to stop wallowing just yet.
“Perhaps I can find a career in constant failure,” I lamented. “Failed architect. Failed daughter. Failed independent person. Failed girlfriend.”
“Listen, I know things aren’t going howyou want them to right now—”
“What? The part about me being thirty-three, with no career, an emotionally unavailable boyfriend, and absolutely nothing to look forward to?” I grumbled.
“Penny, this shit takes time.” Mina’s voice became more firm. “Everyone’s journey is different, and yeah, maybe you accidentally turned on hard mode, but that doesn’t mean you won’t come out of this alive.
“All these perceived failures are part of your story. You need to fail once in a while to help you understand how things work, to learn life lessons, and to eliminate what’s not working for you.
“Even if you had gone through with the architecture degree to make Mommy and Daddy happy, and tried to live up to the impossible standards your sister set, you’d be pleasing them at your own expense, while you wasted away in a job you hated. I was with you during college—you HATED those architecture classes. It was never going to work. You cannot please them, you need to work toward finding your own happiness.”
“When I brought you this lead, I warned you. I told you that he passed on all the big firms and local talent. I said it was a long shot, but it would at least give you a reason to put together your portfolio.”
I cringed, recalling the slim folder I had, in my haste, left on the kitchen counter. I had been so proud of it before I’d set foot in that house, but I’d left feeling humiliated by it.
“It was meant to be a way for you to get a taste of interviewing and pitching to clients. And if it worked out, great, but if not, then on to the next.”
I knew she was right, but I’d built it up in my head as this end all, be all, last hope kinda project to start forging my own path away from the firm. I knew I was out of my depth with the scope of the project, given my lack of experience, but I’d let myself hope, and yet again, I found myself so incredibly disappointed by the results.
“You have to be exaggerating how badly it went. I love you, but you tend to be hyperbolic. Tell me exactly what happened—the facts, no more woe-is-me rhetoric.”
Reluctantly, I began to recall the events of the last few hours in painful detail.
Pulling up to Willowbrooke took my breath away.
The stunning, shingle-style home was more of a manor or mansion than a house. Sitting on twenty acres, the seven-bedroom, four-and-a-half bath home boasted a sprawling back lawn that led to a cliffside overlooking the ocean, with private beach access, a three-bedroom, two-bath guest cottage, and privacy from all sides, due to the willow trees dotting and lining the property.
It was so well hidden, in fact, that I had almost missed the turnoff for the long driveway that allowed access to the property, nestled beyond the front grove of willow trees.
It had taken me over an hour and a half commute from the city to the house, which was a half hour longer than I had anticipated, but I was still thirty minutes early. I’d been terrified to arrive late, so I’d added a generous buffer to quell my ever-present anxiety.
From where I was parked at the edge of the driveway, I hoped I wouldn’t be as noticeable to anyone looking out from inside the house. While I felt it was always good to be early, it could be perceived as rude to show up early and not introduce oneself, but a half hour was also much too early to risk catching Mr. West off guard.
It was imperative that I make a positive first impression.
Interior design had long been my passion, but I had been derailed in the pursuit of those dreams by a handful of factors. While I had an associate’s degree in the field, I’d been sidelined working as an office manager at my parent’s architecture firm for the past decade.
While I applied to jobs in my field and helped friends in exchange for pictures I could use in my portfolio, I hadn’t had professional success in my preferred career. I had all but given up on the idea, until Mina had told me about the project that had the city’s designers abuzz.
At first we’d only joked about how, firm by firm, designer by designer, the mysterious Mr. West was rejecting proposals, running through all his potential options.
And then out of the blue, Mina suggested I throw my hat into the ring. “Maybe what Mr. West needs is a freshperspective—and that’s exactly what you offer.” She smiled at me over coffee one Saturday morning.
It was a huge risk, but I had nothing to lose.
Slightly tipsy after a couple mimosas, I submitted an interview request and was surprised when less than an hour later, Mr. West replied with a date and time.
With Mina’s help, I put together the best portfolio I could manage. She suggested I offer to provide both design and project management services. While I wasn’t sure I could handle all the duties, Mina argued my work at the firm proved otherwise, as I often jumped in to help with admin tasks that she considered more project coordination, and that offering to do both jobs would differentiate me, and could allow me to go full-time on the project and quit the firm.
