Vivian wiped her face with a napkin.

“Thanks, girl.”

Vivian hung up the phone and put her head in her hands. Then she stood up and went to her file cabinet. She looked through her financial records: her retirement account, her savings, what her health insurance postretirement would guarantee her. Finally, she took a deep breath.

She didn’t need this money. She could use it, no doubt, but she would be just fine without it. She could pay her mortgage, she could keep putting money into her savings, her retirement account was healthy, thanks to that corporate secretary job she’d had years ago, and she’d have excellent health insurance for the rest of her life—which was one of the reasons she’d taken this job in the first place.

She even had enough to cover some of her what-ifs. Not all of them, of course. But at least one or two.

She would be fine without the new job. She would be happy without it.

She went over to the drawer where she kept all of her stationery supplies and pulled out a postcard.

Malcolm—Thank you. You made me think about myself and my own happiness more than I have in years. I love my job. It makes me happy and fulfilled in a way I don’t think I truly understood until this week. I’m not going to apply for the new job. I just decided this thirty seconds ago, and I’m so happy about it. You’re the first person I told.

Love,

Vivian

Chapter Sixteen

Malcolm usually got a response from Vivian to his postcards within a week, eight days at the most. At least, that’s how it had been for over a month. But this time, while he got a postcard a few days after he’d sent his—this one with a story about one of her neighbors and his passive-aggressive battle against the dogs on their street that made him laugh and laugh—he knew she’d sent that postcard before she’d received his.

He had no real idea how Vivian would respond to what he’d said. She’d always been so direct with him, but would that translate into wanting him to be direct with her? Would she be offended by him bringing up her finances? He knew he never should have said that. But he’d been so worried about her, he hadn’t been able to think clearly.

He’d spent too much time talking to Miles; this was the problem. They’d hashed and rehashed out his whole “we have to follow our passions” justification for dumping Oxford, and it seemed like the boy had somehow convinced him of the importance of all that. Only partly, though—he’d also convinced Miles to wait to make a final decision until he’d made another visit to Oxford and talked to his tutors again. Luckily, he’d remembered how excited Miles had been when they’d been to Oxford together, so he thought there still might be a chance.

He shrugged. And, if all failed, Miles could always apply again. Oxford would always be there. And Miles’s high grades and impressive A levels would be there, too.

Finally, as he rifled through the mail in the elevator—he no longer had the self-control to wait until he got into his flat—he found a postcard with a picture of a waterfall on the front. He turned it over and read it as soon as he walked into his flat.

She wasn’t going to take the job. And she’d told him first.

He read the card over twice more. Not only was she not angry at him, she was grateful to him. She’d thought about what he’d said, and it had made a difference to her.

He leaned against his door and smiled. Joy, relief, and affection for Vivian spread through him. He was so pleased she wasn’t going to take the new job. And he was so happy his words had made her rethink something so important to her.

He wanted to send her a gift to celebrate this decision. Something momentous, something worthy of Vivian.

He remembered something he’d seen the week before and had talked himself out of buying. He knew just the thing.

Vivian drove up to her house and smiled at the bouquet of yellow and orange and pink flowers in the passenger seat of her car. Their bright colors had cheered her up immediately when she’d seen them in the grocery store, and she’d bought them on an impulse. Why didn’t she ever buy flowers for herself? Just looking at them made her feel content and helped reassure her that no matter how much it rained, spring would come.

It hadn’t been the best week at work—her boss had been hurt and angry when she’d told him she wasn’t going to apply for the job, even though she’d told him she’d be happy to stay in the interim job for however long it took to hire someone else. She’d been more or less prepared for him to be upset, but she hadn’t expected so many of her coworkers to stop by her office to try to get her to reconsider. But she knew she wouldn’t—as soon as she’d sent Malcolm that postcard, she’d felt as if a load had been lifted off of her shoulders. The next day, she’d been happy as she walked into work for the first time in over a month. Despite everyone at work trying to change her mind, and despite how guilty and selfish she still felt, she knew she’d made the right decision.

And that very day, she’d called the spa to make an appointment to use her gift card.

She pulled a stack of catalogs out of her mailbox when she got home and sighed. Both Maddie and Jo had been happy for her—the three of them had celebrated together the day she’d given her boss the news—but she’d been waiting to hear back from Malcolm. It seemed like she wouldn’t hear from him again today.