Would that be enough?
“Paige Hamilton?”
An attractive woman was walking toward her, hand extended in greeting. She looked exactly like her picture on the agency’s website: younger than her forty years, with sleek, chin-length brown hair, a wide face, and an engaging smile. She was wearing cropped gray pants and a pink, short-sleeved sweater. “Wonderful to see that there’s someone else who likes pink,” Molly Lyons said, shaking Paige’s hand. “Very nice to meet you.”
Paige felt her body instantly relax. “Very nice to meetyou.”
—
She called her mother from a bench in Copley Square within minutes of leaving Molly’s office. The morning showers had given way to a beautiful, warm, sunny afternoon.
“So?” Joan Hamilton asked.
Paige heard the hope in her mother’s voice. “It was fantastic. Great. Better than I could have dreamed.”
“Oh, darling. I’m so glad.”
Paige checked her watch. It was almost five o’clock. Her interview had lasted more than two hours. She and Molly had fit together like the proverbial hand and glove. Milk and cookies. Rod and reel. Pick a cliché. It fit.Theyfit.
“I mean, it’s not a done deal,” Paige qualified, not wanting to risk disappointment by getting too far ahead of herself. “I still have to meet with the head of the agency and a few other key people…”
“When will that be?”
“Probably next week. The president is out of town till next Monday, and the creative director is on holiday till Wednesday, so…”
“Next week,” her mother said. “Well, we’ll keep our fingers crossed.”
Fingers crossed.
“So, I was thinking, maybe we could go out to dinner,” Paige said. “My treat. A kind of mini-celebration for having had such a good interview and making it to the next level.”
“Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t you feel well?”
“No, sweetheart. I feel fine. It’s just…”
“What?”
An uncomfortable pause. “I have a date.”
“What?”
“I have a date.”
“You have a date?” Paige repeated. “With whom? Someone you met online?”
“No. I don’t think that’s going to be my scene. It’s with this man a woman in the building fixed me up with. Harry something.”
“His name is Harry Something?”
“No, darling. It’s…Gatlin, I think. He sounds very nice.”
“You’ve talked to him?”