“Did she now?” Noah exclaimed with way too much enthusiasm. He was extra and flamboyant, with his blue, skinny pants, white loafers, and floral button-down shirt. And what was up with his hair? He had the thickest dreads I’d ever seen, but I guess that was the hip thing now—having a hairstyle that made you look homeless.
“Yes, and she told me she applied to be a volunteer. Isn’t this a small world?” said Lola gleefully.
“It sure is.” Olivia gave me a bold smile. She was a petite woman with a short, pixie cut and bronze skin. She wore a white linen dress and hideous jeweled sandals.
“I told her I would sit down with her so we could look over her application today,” Lola went on.
“Oh, for sure. I actually just wrapped up on getting some volunteers for the gala. Competition was fierce this year, honey!” Noah stepped toward me and offered a hand. I shook it firmly. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ivy. And you are so damn gorgeous, by the way.”
Smile, Ivy. Just smile. “Thank you.”
“Ivy, would you like some cucumber water or some coffee?” Lola asked as she walked to a wide, white door with her name on it. Of course her name was on a gold plate on the door.
“Cucumber water sounds good,” I said. Might as well enjoy the luxuries. She told Noah to fetch the water and then instructed me to follow her.
She walked into her office, which was immaculate. Not that I expected anything less. Her office may as well have been made all of windows. It revealed turquoise waters, white sand, and sailboats not too far off in the distance. Her glass desk was free of papers. The only thing atop it was a Mac desktop and keyboard.
There was a teal love seat against the only painted wall, which was a very light blue, and a coffee table with white lilies on top of it. Everything was clean, crisp, and perfect. Just like our dear Lola.
“Please, have a seat.” Lola sat in the cushioned chair behind her desk and I pulled back the clear chair across from her. This chair had to be made of glass. I was almost too afraid to sit my sweaty ass in it.
“So, tell me about yourself, Ivy,” Lola said, booting up her laptop and clicking away on her keyboard to log in.
“What would you like to know?” I asked, pretending to be nervous, fidgeting in my chair. Truth be told, I was prepared for this.
“Are you originally from Florida?”
“I am, yes.”
“Oh really? Were you born here in Miami?” she asked, looking me in the eye.
I wasn’t about to tell her I was from St. Petersburg, and not the lovely part of that city either. She’d catch on. Figure out my past. “I’m from Tampa.”
“Oh, Tampa is amazing. My husband and I go there a lot to visit his mother.”
“Really? I bet that’s nice.”
“It’s funny, because you remind me of someone. Are you related to anyone I know?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I answered quickly.
She narrowed her eyes. Studied my face, every detail of it. Then she shrugged, and I held back a sigh. “So, what makes you so interested in volunteering for Ladies with Passion? Other than helping the future moms, of course.”
“Well, um . . . I sort of have a personal story, but I didn’t want to say much about it during kickboxing to throw off the mood or anything. It’s on my application, but I don’t go into a lot of detail on there.”
“Oh?” Lola sat up higher in her chair, giving me her undivided attention. “Are you okay with sharing your story? Everything in this interview remains confidential, I assure you, but if you aren’t comfortable telling me, you absolutely don’t have to.”
“No, no. It’s okay.” I drew in a breath, ready to play the inspired-good-girl-with-a-tragic-past. My true story is already a bit of a tragedy—you know all about it—but this new one I’d made up would butter Lola up for sure. “Well, when I was eighteen, I suffered a miscarriage.”
“Oh my goodness.” Lola swallowed hard, then closed her eyes for a brief moment. For a second I thought I’d come on too strong with my little fib, and that I should have eased into it, but she opened her hazel eyes again and pressed her lips together. “I am so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. I feel like I’ve healed from it now, you know?”
“Honey, trust me. We never heal,” she murmured.
We? One step closer.
“That’s true.” I worked hard to swallow, and tears crept to my eyes, right on cue. I swiped at my eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “It’s just when I think about it I, um . . . I get a little choked up.”
“No, no. Please.” Lola pushed out of her chair and I hung my head in shame. She walked around her desk and took the chair beside mine, placing a hand on my upper back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me right now, sweetie.”