"But what are you going to do instead? From what I remember you telling me, it's a small town. I doubt many people there need legal services. And don't get me started on the living environment. It's all moo-cows and howdy-dos and god knows what else."
"Have you ever actually been to a small town, or are those just examples from movies?"
"They might be from the movies, but my description is not the point. The point is, what are you going to do there?"
"I don't know yet, maybe paint or get a retail job. All I know is, it's time to take a step back."
"What about the partnership the firm has been hinting at? You’re just going to walk away from that?"
"I don't want it. I don't want to have to work more than I already am. I'm just...not happy," I say, shrugging my shoulders.
"Quinn, are you absolutely sure about this? This is huge and more than likely career suicide. You wouldn’t be able to come back whenever you wanted.”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I know what the consequences are, and I also know I won’t ever want to be a lawyer again.”
“I guess you're the only one who knows that," she says with sympathy in her eyes.
"My lease is up in three months, and I've already started the process of transferring my case files to Lisa and Nicole. I'm hoping to have everything packed up by early June before my lease officially ends."
"Well, all I can say is I better not see you in a pair of cowboy boots. Those are not flattering on anyone no matter where you live," she says, and I just laugh at her.
It tookabout a month for Hailey to get on board with my plan and, being my best friend, I wouldn’t have expected anything less from her. We’ve been each other’s support system and fiercest allies since I started at the firm. Having spent the last six years together, at work and in life, this is going to be tough for both of us.
She knows my disdain for mushrooms, that I’m a serial first-dater, and I’m incredibly socially awkward. I know when she's coming in from a one-night stand or when she's biting her tongue from saying something mean just by looking at her. Usually, the scathing remark is not directed at me, although when you work closely enough with someone, it tends to happen occasionally, and it only has made our relationship stronger.
I know I will miss her terribly, but I also know she supports me one hundred percent, and because of that, I’m ready to begin my new journey.
2
QUINN
Ipull off onto the exit ramp towards Sonoma and start taking inventory of my surroundings. The town is a few miles off of the highway, and as I turn onto Main Street, I'm reminded of how much I love this place. Planter boxes housing beautiful flowers are stationed between timeless black lampposts. Awnings cover the sidewalks on both sides of the street, and I know they’ll be decorated for the fourth of July soon.
There are shops on both sides of the street, and as I slowly drive by them, I see how much things have changed over the years. There is a clothing boutique next to the barber shop that still has the striped pole outside its door. Matthew's Furniture Store has a beautiful chair and end table display in its front window, and where there used to be a laundromat, there's an adorable pet store called Waggin' Tails. I drive a little further down the street and see my favorite building located in the town center.
Town Hall is a two-story building with red brick walls, white trim windows, and beautiful white stone columns lining the front entrance. I've always loved the building’s architecture and have wondered on many occasions what it would be like to work in a place that beautiful.
I keep driving towards my grandparents’ house, and as I make the turn onto their street, I see the big moving truck out front. It all feels surreal right now. It hasn't quite sunk in yet that this town is my home, and I am going to start building a life here.
I pull into the driveway, and my heart gives a little lurch. The two-story cottage looks exactly the same as I remember. There are three steps leading up to the white front porch, and an empty planter box hangs on the railing. The wooden porch swing sits to the right of the black front door and is missing its cushion. The windows are trimmed in white, and the siding on the house offsets the windows in a steel grey. I feel a sudden pinprick of tears behind my eyes knowing my grandparents won't be waiting for me inside. Even after all this time, it will still be immensely difficult to be in the house without them.
I park my car in the driveway and get out to grab one of the boxes from the back of my car. The movers are quickly unloading the truck and will be finished soon. I watch them move like a well-oiled machine, proving they do this on a regular basis.
I pick the lightest box packed in my back seat and head inside. As I walk up the front steps and over the threshold, I am hit by an onslaught of memories. My grandpa chasing me up and down the hallway, the smell of my grandmother's spaghetti sauce simmering in the kitchen. I always felt so comfortable with them, and the sadness of knowing they’re no longer here swamps me.
I close my eyes, letting the tears pass, and when I take a deep breath, I can almost hear my grandparents say you’re going to be just fine. I open my eyes again and know they are right. They’re here with me even if I can’t see them, and I make a vow to myself to make new memories.
I walk out of the entryway and see the french doors to the office on my left. It was always one of my favorite rooms because one wall has floor-to-ceiling shelves that used to hold every book I could dream of reading, and the rest of the office would be turned into a painting studio for me to use while I was visiting.
I look to my right and see the living room which is open to the dining room and kitchen. The stairs face the front door, and a bedroom and a half bathroom are on the left side down the hallway. I walk upstairs, passing another bathroom and bedroom, and head toward the master.
It's a huge room with large windows on the left, facing the backyard. The en suite bathroom is to the right as well as the walk-in closet of my dreams, but I would have never been able to afford it in New York. The cream carpet and white walls will allow me to put my stamp on the space without making me feel like I’m erasing my grandparents.
I set the box down in the middle of the room and walk back downstairs to start organizing the boxes the movers have already brought inside. I delegate where I want the furniture to be placed, and after a few hours, all of my things are in the house and the movers have left.
I look around and realize how empty the house still feels. My entire apartment in New York was about the same size as the kitchen, dining room, and living room. The furniture I brought seems dwarfed in this massive space, and I start giggling at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.
I didn't even consider that I was moving into a three-bedroom house from a tiny studio apartment. Still giggling, I spin in a circle taking in my sparse furniture and boxes when I hear a knock on the door.