“Whatever.” Brenda cut her off with another jangly slash through the air. “Regardless, this trip is all about you, Stells. No plans, no stress, no responsibilities.”
Brenda meant the words to be encouraging, but anxiety gripped Stella’s chest at the thought. She had survived the last eighteen years of being a single mom by having a plan—a structure. Even now, she had a meal plan stuck to the side of the refrigerator, along with a detailed calendar of every appointment, meeting, and activity for the week ahead. Admittedly, the calendar had been a bit thin the last couple of months since Jace left for college, and she only cooked once or twice a week and then survived on leftovers every other day, but Stella still sat down every Sunday night to fill both the calendar and meal plan out. The routine brought her peace.
Stella must have spaced out because when she blinked, Brenda was standing in front of her with her hands on Stella’s shoulders.
“Unclench.”
Stella released a shaky breath.
“This is going to be good for you.” Brenda lowered her chin and stared into Stella’s eyes. “When I got here, you were crying at an amateur actress on daytime television. Now, you are taking a vacation. This is progress. This is a good thing.”
Stella resisted reminding Brenda for the second time that she was already on vacation. That’s what she called her time away from work, anyway—vacation—but apparently, those were just “days off.” Brenda seemed to think there was a very important distinction between the two.
“You’re doing yourself a disservice by labeling this—” she waved her hand to encompass the couch, the soap opera, the craft project on Stella’s coffee table—“a vacation. Vacations require a change of location. Spontaneity, you know?” Brenda said, wrinkling her nose at the kitschy wooden signs scattered across Stella’s living room floor in various stages of doneness. She picked up one of the pieces of distressed wood and tilted her head to the side. “Cute.”
The paintings weren’t cute. Stella knew that. Her mom sold glass jewelry from a rented booth at a flea market, but she hadn’t had as much foot traffic as usual lately, so she wanted to offer something more “commercial,” whatever that meant. She thought Stella could offer up some of her rarely used talents. Most of the signs said something like “It’s wine-o-clock somewhere” or “Get what you get and don’t throw a fit,” so the project wasn’t exactly stretching the boundaries of her talents, but it was something to do. Something to keep Stella busy.
That was why she’d taken on the new project at work, too. Mark had made the announcement at their weekly meeting, making a big deal out of the clients being Australian, insisting this would mean putting the company on the world stage and expanding business. Stella didn’t care about any of that—mostly because she didn’t actually believe him. Really, she just wanted something to get excited about.
Of course, if she’d known taking the project would mean daily design reviews with Mark, she probably would have passed. Even if the work required more than two firing neurons—which it most certainly did not—Stella didn’t need daily design reviews. She’d been a graphic designer for twenty years and with this company for ten. She had more experience in the work and company than Mark, yet he was her boss, and he refused to hear a word of protest. Stella could fight harder, but she’d never get promoted to lead designer if she didn’t appear to be a team player. So, she’d been cashing in her time off to get away from Mark and keep from exploding in frustration.
She just never considered getting away from everything.
“You’ve been moody for weeks.” Brenda had only been in Stella’s house twice over the length of their ten-year-long friendship, but that didn’t stop her from yanking Stella up the stairs and rooting through her closet for a suitcase. “Everyone can see you are in a funk. Ever since Jace left, you’ve been a big old ball of blah.”
Stella never thought she was the office clown or anything, but she didn’t assume everyone thought she was boring. Even though she suspected Brenda had only the best intentions, the insult stung. Even after Brenda spent the next fifteen minutes encouraging Stella to let out the carefree side she knew was hidden deep inside, Stella couldn’t help but feel like one of those storage lockers she’d seen being auctioned off on TV. People bid money on them, expecting there to be a hidden treasure inside worth money, but instead, they found stained mattresses, waterlogged baseball cards, and broken furniture.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Brenda said, shaking Stella’s shoulders. “You’re zoning out in the middle of my pep talk.”
Stella shook her head and blinked. “I’m sorry. This is just a lot to take in.”
“No, it’s simple. You are going to tell Mark you’ll be out of the office for the next week, get in your car, and drive to the first city that pops in your head. When you get there, you’re going to do something fun. And expensive!”
“I can’t leave for an entire week. The Australia project is—”
“—the exact same as every other project you’ve ever worked on,” Brenda finished. “Everyone there knows you could build that town down under’s website with your eyes closed. Mark is making a big stink over nothing.”
“It could put the company on an international stage. It’s important that it be done right.”
“You sound like Mark.”
Stella frowned. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve said to me since you got here.”
“I’m not worried about you, Stella. You have been an amazing mom for the last eighteen years. You raised a smart, thoughtful young man, and you did it with dignity and grace. But now it’s time to put yourself first.”
For years, especially when Jace was small, Stella daydreamed about having a weekend to herself. About sleeping in, eating something
