The Guest Book Read Online Free PDF Page B

to your dearly departed father, though.”
    For a moment, Macy felt sorry for the poor guy. He didn’t have a chance and he knew it. She almost reassured him that no man ever would, but she didn’t want to get that personal with Hank. “Yes,” she said instead.
    He cleared his throat. “No matter. I did want to let you know that there’s one problem with that second weekend. I’ve got some holes in the schedule, and if I can’t get anyone to cover you, I’ll have to have you come back for the Saturday shift. Hope you can make that work. That still gives you almost two whole weeks. That’s quite a vacation.”
    She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. That wouldn’t work at all. They were all driving down in one car, and she didn’t want to make everyone come back early. Plus, she had been looking forward to a long vacation—her first since she couldn’t even remember when. She didn’t want to cut it even one day short.
    “Macy?” Hank shook his stapler in her direction. “You with me?”
    “Oh, sorry! I was just trying to figure out how that would work. As you know, my mom, brother, and daughter will all be with me. In one car. I’m trying to figure out the logistics of coming back early.”
    He pointed in the direction of the parking lot. “I believe you have a car out there that gets you to and from work every day?”
    She nearly laughed. Her car was held together by fishing line and duct tape. “Well, my car’s not very reliable, so I was going to leave it home. My mom is going to drive us all down.”
    “Ms. Dillon, need I remind you of our last quarterly employee meeting wherein I outlined the current economic status and the ramifications it may have on our current employees?” Whenever Hank started talking like a corporate memo, Macy knew it was pointless to argue with him.
    “Sure. I remember.”
    “Well, I guess you’ll need to ask yourself which is more important to you. This vacation or your job?” He grinned without showing any teeth. “It’s just one day.”
    “I guess I’ll have to hope you can get someone to cover me,” she said, even as the hope was sinking out the soles of her feet and into the floor. Her life was a constant series of adjustments.
    “Ms. Dillon, I have had to let a lot of folks go. I’ve kept you on. I would think there’d be some loyalty on your part in response.”
    She nodded, staring at him stupidly.
    “Well, no sense standing here talking to me. You best get back to whatever you were doing.”
    She’d been painting the front windows of the store. A family had stopped to watch, smiling and pointing. For just a moment, she’d let herself imagine that she was painting on the streets of Paris, that the family was French and the glass window an artist’s canvas. Then Hank had summoned her, and she’d had to put down her brush and her imaginings.
    “I want to keep my job, Hank. I need this job.”
    Hank smiled. “That’s more like it.” He waved her away.
    She left at his bidding, thinking that if she believed in prayer, she’d pray that Hank wouldn’t need her. But Macy had stopped believing in prayers — or answers — long ago.
    Macy passed the asparagus across the table to Chase, smiling at him as Emma made gagging noises and vowed there was no way she would eat the asparagus. Macy didn’t care that Emma was being impolite. There would be time to work on table manners later. For now, she was focused on Chase sitting at her table. Chase, who had been standing over the grill on her tiny patio grilling the chicken mere moments earlier. Chase, who had suggested they go out for ice cream after dinner as a family. Chase, who was keeping his promises and becoming more and more a part of their lives.
    On Saturday, at the mall, he’d pulled her over to the jewelry store and suggested they look at rings. She’d used Emma’s whining about being hungry to get out of it, wondering later why she had. What was holding her back? She couldn’t put her