The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (carter reed TXT) 📗

"Tomorrow." My entire conversational strategy centered around repeating him—and it seemed to be working.

"Yeah, obviously it's suuuuuuper short notice but we figured you didn't have too much going on right now."

That hurt. A little. Just enough to get me out of this echo stupor. "Dino, I appreciate the call. Great to hear about what you're doing and I'm all for initiatives like this one. Before I can commit to flying to California, I need to engage in some due diligence and see if my schedule has any flexibility."

"Got it, got it. Here's what I can do for you. I'll shoot you some of our documents and a snapshot of the team's availability this week and early next. If you feel like our paths might align, I'll have our ops manager reach out to coordinate the travel arrangements. We're running a lean show here so I can't promise anything like you're used to but—"

I snorted. "Don't worry about that part, Dino. Every campaign operates on a shoestring. Even the ones that look like they have it made."

"It's those insider secrets we need," he said with a laugh. "That and enough dirty tricks to send a few incumbents packing."

There were too many emotions exploding inside me to properly process Dino's parting remarks. There was some denial in there, to be sure, but I let excitement and relief and pride—I was back!—crowd out the unsavory bits.

I was out of the bathtub and sprinting across the backyard in an instant, the raw November wind cutting through my clothes in a too-late reminder I'd left Midge's house without my coat. But it didn't matter. I was nearly home and I'd warm up while I looked into the NCVC, the organization that wanted me to transform Northern California's political scene.

It sounded simple enough but that region was a mosaic of people and competing interests, and it was nothing like Southern California. The opportunity to get in there and make something happen was immense. And it would be all mine.

When I reached my laptop on the kitchen table, my hands were shaking so hard from the rush of it all, I couldn't type. I just sat there, my entire body caught in an endless shiver, and let the tears fill my eyes.

I'd kept going. I'd put my head down and let it all blow over. Just like always, I'd survived. I'd made it through. I'd survived.

26

Linden

I returned home to find Jasper crying in the kitchen. Elbows on the closed lid of her laptop, head in her hands, hiccup-gasp crying.

Seeing as this wasn't the first time I'd come upon Jasper crying, I could've learned something from the past rather than repeating those mistakes. Instead, I dropped a wooden crate of assorted cranberry products gifted to me from a client on the countertop and asked, "What happened?"

Jasper started, of course, popping out of her seat and flattening a hand to her chest. She blotted her cheeks on her sleeve and sucked in a steadying breath. "You scared the hell out of me. What are you slamming and yelling for?"

"I came home and you're sitting here crying, Peach. I don't like seeing that. Who did this to you? If it's that ex of yours bothering you again, he can direct his inquiries to me. I'll handle Preston from this point forward, okay?"

She tore a wad of paper towel from the roll. "It's not Preston but your vehemence is extra special today."

I set my hands on her waist and waited as she thoroughly blew her nose. "Should I keep guessing?"

Leaning back against the cabinets, she said, "I got a job offer."

"You—what? When?"

She waved with the balled-up paper towels. "This afternoon. I got a call from a candidate farm and—"

"In English, Jasper. English."

Again with the paper towel, she said, "An organization that prioritizes races and develops a roster of candidates to take out incumbents or go after historically uncontested or uncompetitive seats. They raise money to grow candidates."

"And…" I couldn't finish that sentence.

"And they want me to fly out to California to meet with their team. They want me to run the farm."

As was always the case with Jasper, several things were true at once. She sounded happy but she was shaking, there was a proud, slightly haughty gleam in her eye but she'd been sobbing a minute ago, and she hated this stuff but clearly believed the offer was a step forward after taking a million steps back.

And she wanted me to share her enthusiasm even when this job was an airplane flight away.

"Where exactly is this job? This farm?"

"Northern California. The office is based in Sacramento but the work would include everything north of San Francisco." The way she said this told me it hadn't occurred to her that was the opposite side of the country. If she knew, she didn't care. "Come on. Say something. You can't just stand there, staring at me. My day went from almost demolishing a bathroom—"

"You almost did what?"

"—to a political action committee wanting me to run their operation. It's been a day, Lin."

"I'm happy for you," I managed. "But, Jasper, babe, Peach, I didn't think you wanted to do that anymore."

A beat passed before she deflated, her shoulders dropping, her gaze falling to the floor. Even the hand clutching the paper towels drooped to her side.

"I have to do something."

"No, you don't. There's no reason you have to do anything. You've said it yourself. You can swing a couple more months before you make any decisions."

"Just because I can doesn't mean I should," she replied.

"Maybe it does, Jas."

"I can't—I can't sit here all day, painting and repainting walls and organizing old junk. Okay? I can't do this. But I can go to California and raise some viable candidates. So what if I hate it? So what? Everyone hates their job. It's not special to me. It's everyone. And I'm good at it! I am good at this, even if I hate it. It's the best I've got. Okay?"

I shook my head