Sooo, here we are again. The prompts were calling to me. My professional life is a bit busier than usual so I may not update as frequently as last time, but I'm going to try.
This storyline is dedicated to bellamarie117, who tweeted months ago that she wanted a blue collar Edward. She inspired me then, it's just taken me this long to do something about it.
Again, these chapters will be shorter and based on Fictionista Workshop's daily witfit prompt. Thanks to Kathy for getting them to my inbox every day.
Not betad, but thanks to arfalcon and LikeToRead22 for their help when I originally had this idea.
Enough out of me.
Prompt: hurry (Not much of a title. Something will come up, I'm sure)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
I put the last of my materials in the bed of my truck, wave to Mr. DiSanto, and head back to the office. The job is almost finished and the bulk of my tools have to be brought back for use on my next assignment. If there is one. Times are tough and McCarty Custom Cabinetry isn't immune to the bad economy, despite a spate of rich clients with homes along the North Shore of Long Island, New York.
I unload my saws and buckets of tools into the garage attached to the office before heading inside to look for Emmett.
"I have another job for you," he says from behind his desk. I'm sitting across from him, breathing a sigh of relief that I won't be unemployed. "Remember the site survey I went on a few weeks ago out in Old Brookville?"
I nod. "The kitchen renovation with the possible wine cellar?"
"That's the one. We got the call yesterday. I have some of the materials on order and we should be able to start on the kitchen next week. They're not sure about the rest yet."
"Okay. Do you have plans for me to look at?"
"Just preliminary so far. In the meantime, can you have the DiSanto job wrapped up by the end of the week?"
"Yeah, there are just a few punch list items left."
"Good. This job should take a while. The kitchen is enormous and the client is a bored housewife with very specific tastes. There's a custom spice rack and some special cabinets she wants. She didn't really give me time to measure properly so you'll need to finalize the plans as part of the job."
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Bored housewives are the worst people to work for; they tend to look to me to alleviate that boredom. Early on, I would happily answer their questions and engage them in conversation about what I was doing. But I quickly learned lonely housewives didn't really care about what I was doing so much as they were interested in what they thought I could do for them. I dreaded getting propositioned on a job, but it happened often enough that Emmett and I had a procedure in place when it did.
"How worried do I need to be?" I ask him warily.
"I think you'll be fine, Edward. She's young, but not particularly friendly. She should leave you alone."
"Okay, good." I'm relieved. He's usually good at reading who I do and don't have to worry about. It's not as if I'm not tempted on occasion, but this is my job and I need it more than I need a quick roll in the hay with some rich guy's wife. Besides, I respect Emmett way too much to ever put his business in jeopardy.
Emmett shuffles some papers on his desk, which is a perpetual mess. "You're coming for dinner on Monday, right? It's Adam's birthday and Rosie's expecting you."
"Yeah, we'll be there." I look down at my watch. "I gotta go. I'll check in from the DiSanto job tomorrow afternoon."
I leave Emmett's office and go to the men's room to change into my one nice suit. I have an appointment with Angela Weber, the Director of Admissions at the Green Vale School, one of the most prestigious (and expensive) private school in the area, and I don't think it will do to show up in jeans and a t-shirt. I'm already going to have to beg for some assistance, I don't want our financial status to be on display. I just hope she doesn't notice it's the same suit I wore last time and I didn't have time to have it dry cleaned.
I hurry across town and make it to her office just in time.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Masen," Ms. Weber greets as I walk into her office. "Please, have a seat."
I sit across from her, unable to stop myself from drumming my fingers on my thigh.
"Firstly," she begins, a pleasant smile on her face, "let me reiterate how much I enjoyed meeting you and Madeline the other day. She's quite a lovely little girl. You must be very proud."
"I am," I reply, smiling back at her, but feeling too anxious to elaborate.
"She passed all of her tests with flying colors. As a matter of fact, her scores seem to indicate she's remarkably intelligent. Personally, I think she would thrive in this environment and we'd be happy to accept her for admission to kindergarten in September."
I flush a little, so damn happy with what she just told me, but dreading the conversation to come. I'm ashamed about my lack of resources and the fact that we basically live paycheck to paycheck, but I'll do anything for my little girl, including swallow my pride. "I appreciate that, Ms. Weber. There is the matter of tuition, though. I was wondering if you allowed for a payment plan or perhaps –"
"Mr. Masen, please," she interrupts kindly. "We'll figure out a way for Madeline to attend Green Vale. We offer financial aid and we have a scholarship program for which I'm sure she'll qualify. Unfortunately, that program doesn't begin until the first grade, but with financial aid, it should be workable." She reaches into her desk and takes out a thick folder, handing it to me across the desk. "Just fill out this paperwork and we'll see where we are, okay?"
I take the folder with a trembling hand, feeling a little overwhelmed. I want the best of everything for Maddie, but because of the life I chose for us, I sometimes fall short. Knowing I'll be able to give her this, no matter the cost, is a profound relief.
"Thank you," I say softly. "I'll fill these out and get back to you as soon as I can."
She looks at me for a long moment before she speaks again. "By the end of the week should be fine, but the sooner the better. We look forward to seeing Madeline here come September."
"Thank you again," I say as she walks me to the door.
"It's my pleasure. Please call me if you have any questions."
I leave the Green Vale campus and drive back to Bayville, looking forward to seeing my little girl.
This story takes place, obviously, in Long Island, NY. It's a place with quite a few wealthier communities, with blue collar towns right next door. The help has to live somewhere, I guess.
Thank you for reading.