Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Mom sighs. “Y’all head upstairs, then, and get some rest. I’ll clean up.”
I glance at Dad. He’s in the recliner now, popping out the footrest for his feet.
The anger in my chest swells. It feels like heartburn. On the eve of Mom’s birthday, he’s still not willing to help out. Still not willing to give her a much-needed break by taking over dish duty himself.
“Lainey,” Dad says, “I wanna hear more about this interview—why you didn’t like the people.”
There’s a reason—many reasons—he’s asking that question. I inherited being more of an “indoor person” from him. While my schoolmates visited family and friends on ranches across Texas when we were younger, I was more than happy to hang in my room and sketch on my tablet. I’d read books, listen to angsty Ed Sheeran songs, and bedazzle random shit because I’m crafty and it was fun.
I thought I’d get along with people who worked in an office environment. Obviously Dad thought that too. Now I’m not so sure.
“Lainey can talk after she helps me clean up.” Mom rises, grabbing her plate. “Mind clearing the table? I’ll start loading the dishwasher.”
I love how it’s assumed that I’ll be the one to help. That fact has always grated on me. But tonight, it bothers me more than usual. Maybe because Mom’s clearly in a mood and is taking it out on me. I understand where she’s coming from. It’s her birthday, for crying out loud, and no one seems to give a shit.
Still hurts, though, being her chosen punching bag. I didn’t used to hate coming home. Now I do.
I clear the table, put the leftovers in the fridge, and pour myself and Mom some more wine. Only when the sink is empty and the dishwasher is running do I go sit on the couch across from Dad.
Collapse is the more apt word for the way I flop onto the cushions with an exhausted sigh. Closing my eyes, I stretch out my legs.
“You still haven’t answered my question about the interview,” he says.
I keep my eyes closed. Yes, Dad, because I was cleaning up from dinner. The one I helped make.
“Well…” I open my eyes. “Long story short, I just don’t think I belong in private equity.”
Dad gives me a look. “I thought you were set on landing at a PE firm. I was just bragging about you to my coworkers. They were so impressed you got all those interviews.”
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. Like impressing your coworkers is what’s important.
“But really, what are you going to do, then?” Mom appears in the family room, a laundry basket on her hip. She sits in a chair beside the coffee table and sets the basket down on the floor. “You do know you need to get a job.”
Exactly what I knew she’d say.
I let out a mirthless chuckle. “Of course I know I need to get a job. We’ve talked about this. That’s always been the plan.”
“The reminder can’t hurt.” Mom snaps a white undershirt straight before beginning to fold it. “We did pay through the nose to send you to all that school.”
As one of eight siblings—eight!—she never had the opportunity to go to college, much less graduate school. While I know she’s always wanted better for me, I also get why she’d be bitter about not having the opportunities I did.
“I’m trying my best.” It’s all I can think to say.
Dad sighs. “You have to get off the payroll, Lainey. Our payroll. It’s time you supported yourself.”
“I want that too, Dad. Believe me.”
I also really, really want to get the hell out of Fort Worth and back to Austin. But once I’m there…I mean, what do I do next?
“Welp.” Dad folds his hands over his stomach. “I might actually have a solution to your problem. A temporary one. But it’s something.”
I raise a brow. “Oh?”
“A client of mine—he’s been with me forever—owns a big-ass ranch down in Hill Country. They breed horses there.”
I blink again. “Horses? A ranch?” Now I’m laughing for real. “Dad, you know I’m not the least bit outdoorsy—”
“Listen. He’s getting ready to retire. But before he does, he wants to rebrand the family ranch. New look, new logo, new website—the whole shebang, so that the ranch is in tip-top shape when he passes it down to his kids. I immediately thought of you, of course. But you were in the middle of your private equity interviews, so I haven’t said anything.”
My chest lifts, just a little. Okay. So I’d be doing my indoor thing for an outdoor-type client. Not ideal but not terrible either. It’d give me something to do at the very least.
Still, the idea of setting up camp in the middle of nowhere doesn’t excite me. Hill Country is only three hours from here, but it might as well be on another planet for how different it is from Fort Worth or Austin.