Elly gazed a long moment at the framed selfie of she and Brandon. Taken at Times Square their first New Year's Eve together, they looked ecstatic, high on new love and wine, with confetti in their hair. Hard to believe three years later they wouldn't even be speaking. She set the photo in the cardboard box containing the last of her personal items. After another glance around her desk, she closed the box's lid.

She ran into Duncan when she exited her office.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah." She looked around the dimmed, silent cubicles. "Not really."

"You'll find something. You all will."

Elly gave a small smile. "Easy for you to say. All you have to worry about is which retirement community has the best golf course."

He returned her smile as they headed toward the front lobby. "You mean tennis courts. Joanne says if we're moving to Florida she's going to get serious about improving her backswing."

Elly's coffee mugs clinked with each step. She tilted the box to quiet them. "Whatever you do, I hope you enjoy it. You deserve a happy retirement."

"It'll be a new adventure. At least that's what Joanne keeps telling me." Duncan turned off the last of the lights and they stepped out the office door.

As Duncan locked it, Elly looked through the window at the darkened lobby. "I really liked working here," she said.

Duncan gave a nod. "The end of an era." He glanced at the keys in his open palm before clamping his fingers over them and sticking them in his pants pocket. "It's still hard to believe Wayne's gone. I keep expecting to hear him yell my name, asking if I brought doughnuts." His forehead creased. "I still wonder if I'm doing the right thing. Retiring instead of buying the business, keeping it going."

"You have to do what's best for you. And Joanne."

"Even if it throws the rest of you in the street?"

"Almost everyone else has leads on new jobs. I'm just unlucky."

"Not unlucky. Just haven't found the right place for you, is all. But you will. And when you do, be sure to use me as a reference. I'll give you a glowing recommendation."

"Thanks." Elly smiled with appreciation. She would miss Duncan's encouragement and gentle redirection. His affable manner had always reminded her of her dad.

He turned toward the elevator bay, and Elly followed. Duncan punched the call button then indicated the box in her hands. "You need a ride home?"

"I'm fine."

"You're fine," he repeated with a hint of skepticism. "I'm going to spring for a cab anyway. Least I can do for my favorite employee."

"Keep flattering me like that and I'll follow you to Florida."

Duncan chuckled. "I'd have some explaining to do if you did." They entered the elevator and he looked at her in seriousness. "Maybe you should. You'd make a great activities director. I can see you organizing shuffle board and bingo games for all the old farts."

"Hey, you're about to be one of those old farts."

"I am, aren't I?" He lifted his head as if to consider that. Then he shook his head. "There it is again. That nagging doubt I'm doing the wrong thing."

"Don't tell me that. If you don't know what you're supposed to do with the rest of your life, what chance do I have?"

"You have an entire world of possibilities."

"I'd rather have a neighborhood of certainty."

Duncan laughed. "Wouldn't we all? Nothing in life is certain. Except death and taxes. Why, I imagine in three months' time I'll be lounging on the beach, but in truth I could be hit by a bus tomorrow."

"No, that would be my bad luck."

They exited the elevator and walked out the building's entrance. True to his word, Duncan hailed a taxi and handed the driver a twenty. He then stuck out his hand to Elly. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Janellen."

"You, too. You're a great boss."

"Keep in touch. I expect to hear good things from you."

"Send me a postcard from Naples."

"Will do."

He opened the car door and she climbed in. After telling the driver her address, she gave Duncan a last wave as they pulled away from the curb. An entire world of possibilities, he says. Sounds too much like adventure. Elly sank back in the seat, her arms around the box on her lap, the coffee mugs rattling once more. 

***

"You won't be late with rent, will you?" Callee asked.

"I've applied for unemployment," Elly replied. "And I still have my bookkeeping side gig."

"Okay, good." Callee pulled the plastic lid off her large salad. "I don't want to be a pain about it. It's just that my last roommate was always flaky on rent."

"I understand."

Callee poured a packet of dressing on the greens layered with cheese and hard-boiled egg slices. Elly eyed it with envy as she nibbled a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, her fifth this week.

"Got any plans tonight?" Callee asked.

"No."

"Me, either. Want to stream a movie?"

"Okay."

An hour later, Elly sat on the sofa, her legs tucked on the seat, her elbow on the armrest, her head on her hand. Callee lay on the other end, lightly snoring. This was how the few evenings they'd spent together always ended, for Callee worked long hours even when she wasn't traveling. Elly suspected her roommate hadn't seen the end of a movie in years.

With a sigh, Elly turned off the television. She'd seen this particular flick a couple times already. The guy realizes he made a mistake breaking up with the girl and chases her down in the airport with flowers and a ring. This was an ending Elly didn't need to see again. Instead, she draped a throw blanket over Callee, turned off the lights, and went to bed.

***

With a halfhearted smile, Marjorie greeted Elly before ushering her inside the apartment. "Thank you for coming over," Marjorie said for the second time as Elly took a chair in the living room. "I didn't want to do this over email. Or the phone." Her hands fluttered as she spoke, and she fidgeted on the edge of the seat, more so than usual. Elly often noted how Marjorie's inability to sit still counterbalanced the motionlessness of her felted creations.

"It's okay," Elly said. She forced herself to relax her shoulders. Conversations regarding money always set Marjorie's body into one joggling nervous tic, so Elly made a conscious effort to appear serene and confident. "Is this about your taxes?"

Marjorie's eyes grew wide. "Is there something wrong with my taxes?"

"No! Um, no. I mean, I'm sure there isn't. I just thought—" Last time you were this nervous it's because your accountant needed a profit/loss statement. "Uh, I just thought you were worried about your taxes, since they have to filed next week."

"No." Marjorie shook her head in several short, quick tremors. "No, Jeremy assures me it's all completed and ready to mail."

"Oh. Okay." Elly folded her hands on her lap and once again forced her shoulders to relax.

"Oh! Would you like something to drink?" Marjorie hopped from the chair. "Water? Tea? Or I can make coffee." She hovered over Elly, her hands twisting together.

"No, thank you. I'm okay."

Marjorie sank to the chair. "Oh, dear," she murmured, continuing to wring her hands. She looked to her left, where light streamed through the front window. "I don't know how to do this."

"Just tell me," Elly said in a gentle tone.

Marjorie sighed and turned her eyes to her hands, which had settled in her lap. "I have to fire you." She looked up with startled eyes. "I mean, let you go. Not because you've done anything wrong. You've done everything right. I don't want to let you go. I wish I could keep you. But...I barely broke even last year. Jeremy says I have to cut expenses. And unfortunately..." With shimmering eyes, she held her palms out to Elly before dropping her hands back in her lap. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry."

Elly held back her own tears. Her initial shock at the news faded to an empathetic sadness, not only for herself, but for Marjorie. "It's okay. I understand." She paused. "Who will help you with your books?"

"Jeremy says he'll do it if I can't. And I know I can't. You know I can't. I'm terrible with numbers." Marjorie lowered her eyes again. "I'm so sorry."

***

Free agent. That's how she should think of herself. Free to go anywhere, do anything. Unencumbered. No obligations, no relationships.

Except, of course, for Aunt Evie.

Elly gazed at her now, lying asleep in her recliner, covered in a pink fleece blanket.

I could move to Naples.

Duncan had emailed about several job opportunities.

Do I want to move to Florida?

Not really.

Do I want to move Aunt Evie?

Never again.

Five years ago, transferring Evelyn from Camden to Garden City had taken one long, exhausting day. Evelyn's mental state had deteriorated significantly since then. Driving her anywhere now would be impossible. Taking her on an airplane would be insane. No, Evelyn's next move—should there be one—would be to the facility's nursing home wing.

I'll have to tell Duncan thanks for the leads, but I can't come. I can't move Aunt Evie.

You could leave without her.

Elly didn't answer that suggestion. She didn't need to. Even her subconscious knew she'd rather wrangle her aunt onto a plane than leave her behind.

***

"What would you say is your greatest professional strength?" The restaurant manager, Mr. Shirsat, leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers.

"My greatest strength is my communication and people skills," Elly said, rattling off her memorized answer. "In my previous job as senior administrative coordinator, I trained and supervised staff, interacted with customers, venders, and workers during all stages of a project, and when problems arose, identified solutions and implemented corrective procedures."

Of all the places to call Elly for an interview, it had to be the restaurant in Brandon's building. The restaurant where they'd started many a date night; the restaurant which had delivered their occasional orders for room service.

"And your greatest weakness?"

"My greatest weakness is related to my strength. I have a tendency to speak before thinking, which has led to hurt feelings and misunderstandings. I discovered I do this most often when multi-tasking or when otherwise distracted, so I now schedule tasks to better focus on one thing at a time."

Elly had almost disregarded their ad for assistant manager. She didn't want the possibility of running into Brandon and Penny. Did they meet at the restaurant's bar after work? Did they sit on the padded stools, eating chips and salsa, making plans for the evening? Did they spend so long deliberating where to eat that they gave up and ordered dinner right where they were?

Elly didn't want to know.

However, the position fit her qualifications, and she needed to show the unemployment office she'd sent out applications.

"This is a fast-paced environment that requires a lot of flexibility. Do you feel you can handle that?"

"Absolutely. Before I earned my degree, I worked mainly in food service. I'm familiar with restaurants; from fast food to fine dining. I've been a waitress, busser, hostess, manager, and bookkeeper. I know how to delegate responsibilities, but I'm also not above jumping in to help cover for a staff shortage." She smiled. "The only thing I can't do is cook. Unless it's assembling tacos or frying french fries."

When she initially received the call for the interview, she suspected Brandon had somehow known of her need and used his influence. However, Mr. Shirsat had dashed this spark of hope when he informed her he'd called the first name on her reference list prior to calling her. 

Duncan. 

Turned out he and Mr. Shirsat were old friends.

Good old Duncan. Still mentoring her from several states away. She'd have to send him a thank you note even if she didn't get the job. Her chances seemed promising, though. Mr. Shirsat appeared to like her answers. After several more questions and a discussion of compensation, Mr. Shirsat stood and held out his hand.

"Welcome aboard, Ms. Johnson. I don't usually make up my mind so quickly, but Duncan told me I'd be a fool to let you get away."

Duncan. You're a lifesaver. I'm sending you a bottle of wine with that thank you.

Half an hour later, Elly stepped outside. She glanced around for Brandon or Penny, but saw neither. As she strode down the sidewalk, she couldn't contain her grin. Her luck had finally turned.

No, not luck. Confidence.

Duncan may have gotten her foot in the door, but she'd impressed Mr. Shirsat on her own. She felt invincible. Powerful. Taller. That's because she'd worn her new pumps, which raised her an extra two inches. The height added to her confidence. Never mind that her toes hurt with each step. Pain was a small price to pay to achieve her goals. And she'd been proven correct. She didn't regret buying the shoes. They matched her favorite designer suit, after all. No, she didn't regret buying them. Not at all.

But she'd be relieved to get home and take them off.