Things are different now. I have more than just myself to think about. I have a child growing inside of me. I can’t risk my safety, not where my baby is concerned.
I did a lot of soul-searching while I tossed and turned in bed. I came to a decision. A tough one. I’ve got to get out of this place. I need the money but my future baby’s wellbeing comes above all else. I’ve dreamed about being a mom for too long to take this potential danger lightly.
Cliff scratches his head. “I don’t imagine you were planning to stick around here after the baby comes, were you?”
Welp! I guess the boss overheard my coworkers gossiping about my interior design aspirations, too, huh?!
“Yeah, I was hoping to have my business up and running by the time I give birth,” I tell him honestly.
He nods for a long moment, running his hand down the long, chest length beard and pulling on the ends.
Then he snaps his fingers. “Okay, Penny. How about this? What if I continue your regular pay—and what you’d typically get in tips—until your baby comes? In exchange, you’ll continue your admin work until I replace you and you can fancy the place up a bit, make it look nice since I hear you’re into this whole decorating thing now? If I do that, would you consider resigning?” He puts up a hand and rushes out. “I don’t want to get in legal trouble here. But I do want to be fair. You’ve been a mighty big help around here for a long time but at this point, I just don’t want you out on the floor with those rowdy crowds.”
I mull it over quickly. I guess I don’t see any downside to Cliff’s offer. I was already planning to quit bartending. This seems like a smooth way to make a graceful exit. Especially since I’m still getting paid and I’m getting a decorating job out of it.
“Sure. Yeah, I can do that. I think that’s more than fair, Cliff.” I chew on the inside of my lip so my smile doesn’t give my enthusiasm away.
My soon-to-be ex-boss sighs with relief. “Good.” The man grabs a sheet of paper from the overflowing recycle bin and scribbles out our agreed-upon details in his illegible chicken scratch.
We both sign the paperwork that probably wouldn’t hold up in any legitimate court of law. But my heart is singing a sweet song of relief so I don’t even care. I snap a picture of our impromptu contract with my phone and Cliff tucks the original into a drawer where he’ll probably never be able to find it anyway.
He walks me out the bar, all the way to the parking lot, and reaches his hand out to shake mine. “Let me know if you ever need anything?”
I ignore his hand and wrap my arms around him in a friendly hug instead. A handshake after all these years of working together? Doesn’t seem right.
“Oh!” he laughs, his weathered cheeks reddening harshly. “Well, okay then.” He pats me on the back awkwardly, apparently still terrified of potential lawsuits and not wanting to touch me. “You…you get out of here now. Before you get me in trouble.”
“Stop it.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Good night, Cliff. And thank you for everything.”
He nods with a salute. “We’ll talk next week.”
I head back toward Walker’s cabin, windows down the whole way, feeling like a changed woman.
I’m not a bartender anymore.
I guess I’m officially a full-time interior designer.
39
Penny
On a nice big inhale, slowly fold forward…and send all your energy, all your tension, all your emotions into the floor…”
Beside me, Jessa and Callie effortlessly follow the instructions pouring through the computer speakers.
Me? When I try to bend forward, the only thing headed for the floor is my cranium. This belly of mine has definitely shifted my center of gravity. It’s growing like crazy.
“Hold on, Jessa,” Callie giggles as I stagger around on my feet, searching for my balance. “We have to wait for Penny!"
I lower onto my bum in exhaustion and scoot across the room to the far wall. “Go on without me," I say dramatically as I reach for my water bottle. "I’m gonna have to sit this one out."
We’re having girl time this morning. Just Jessa, Callie and me. We've turned the exercise room of the Kingston bed and breakfast into our own private yoga studio, following along with the group of happy-faced, toned-assed, freakishly flexible yoga instructors on my computer screen.
I hate them all so much right now.
I've been getting lazy with my fitness but now that I’m carrying a tiny human around 24 hours a day, I’m starting to feel random aches and pains in my body. Hopefully, a little stretching will help resolve that. Prassanna Oneness Studio puts out the best gentle yoga videos. Their YouTube channel is my go-to now that I’m no longer bartending and have some more free time on my hands.
"Penny's such a slow poke, isn't she?” Jessa teases, causing the child to giggle.
“Penny’s carrying around a ten-pound potato sack under her shirt,” I say in my defence.
My friend snickers as she comes across the room and drops down beside me. She immediately resumes her daily crusade to convince me to take a shot with Walker. Meanwhile, Callie enthusiastically continues her yoga session. That kid has so much damn energy. I don’t know how Jessa keeps up.
At some point, the little girl scampers across the room and grabs her nanny's arm, yanking her out of our conversation. "Jessa, is that my mommy?" The child points at the computer. My chest squeezes. My eyes dart to the screen. But Jessa takes the question in stride, like it’s a question she’s heard a dozen times before.
The nanny affectionately brushes the girl’s messy blond flyaways back from her face. "No, I'm sorry, honey. That's not your mommy.”
Callie’s expression drops with disappointment.
Jessa pulls her into a hug. “Remember, we talked about
