Page 60 of Not So Very Sensible

Thank God for one family member who seemed to understand her. Annabelle was quiet too but often surprised others with her spunky teasing and sense of humour. Ellie was glad she now lived nearby.

Dad’s brother lived on a farm near Jemora, a small town four hours west. Annabelle, the eldest of two sisters, had moved to the Highlands recently for work. There were days when Ellie wanted to ask if Annabelle’s share house had a spare room, as sometimes it felt easier to have the quiet life rather than her mother’s and sister’s constant drama. But then, the board she was expected to pay at home was a lot cheaper, and she did love her family, so it hadn’t come to that yet. Not when the ultimate goal was to move to Sydney and leave this small town behind.

“So, what’s his name?”

She shrugged, dropping tiny edible silver balls onto the pink frosting. “Ethan. I’m supposed to do a tea demonstration. But I don’t know if he is even going to come. He hasn’t replied to me all week. Well, not since Monday.”

“Maybe he’s had an accident.”

“That’s what I wondered too. I’m trying to be positive, but I can’t help but feel something has happened.”

“Well, there’s no point worrying. If Ethan appears, he appears. If he doesn’t, that’s his loss.”

“Right?”

Annabelle laughed. “That’s more like it. Now let’s get these pastries out. Your dad has been baking up a storm.”

It was good to have the distraction, to have Annabelle’s witty comments and remarks. She shared a little about her week, about the highs and lows of working with the elderly. She never mentioned names, of course, but Ellie could appreciate the challenges of working with people who were nearing the end of life. And while the facility where Annabelle worked wasn’t Christian, it still gave opportunity for Annabelle to share the hope and peace of Jesus.

“I’m just so grateful that they let me do that in this role,” Annabelle said later as they washed up some of the delicate crockery. “There are some residents who never receive visitors, and I know they are lonely.”

“They’re blessed to have you working there.”

“I hope so. I don’t mind admitting that I pray each day that God would use me as He sees fit.”

Ellie sighed. “I wish my job had more of a purpose to it like that. Sometimes I feel like all I’m doing is pandering to rich people, and it doesn’t feel very fulfilling.”

“What would you like to do if you could do anything at all?”

See, this was why Ellie liked Annabelle. She made her think beyond her normal, to imagine possibilities. “I think I’d like to work at a not-for-profit organisation so I know that my work is benefitting others and making a difference in the world.”

“I think any kind of work we do can make a difference in the world,” Annabelle said thoughtfully. “It’s not always about the work but our impact on the people we work with that can truly make a difference.”

Ellie bit her lip. There had been all too many times lately when she had complained about the people she worked for. Not Nicola, but the clients. And maybe there was some tiny amount of envy wrapped up in her feelings about rich people. It would be nice to feel like she could afford the lifestyles of the rich and famous, like Emma-Jane had when she’d been swept up in the fabulousness of being billionaire’s son Eric Churchill’s girlfriend. But then, Emma-Jane had soon come to realise that wealth and fame wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She’d been very glad to step down from the spin cycle of movers and shakers and get grounded in reality after realising that her best friend forever, Jordan, was the real deal and only truly perfect man for her. Maybe Ellie was similar and had simply allowed herself to get caught up in the whirl of art deco–powered glamour and refused to see what was real. Far from being sensible, perhaps Ellie needed to remove her blinkers—about men, clients, and all manner of things.

“I think God can use us anywhere,” Annabelle continued. “It’s just up to us whether or not we want to be used.”

“Ouch. Wow. Are you sure you have to work here today?”

Annabelle laughed. “Sorry. Just preaching to myself here.”

“Please. What do you need to preach to yourself about?”

Annabelle shrugged. “Did I ever tell you about this Navy guy I met?”

“No, you certainly did not. Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because there’s nothing to tell, really. I met him in Jemora years ago and thought we hit it off, and then he ghosted me.”

Just like Ethan had, apparently. Still, she wouldn’t make this about herself right now. “So …?”

“So now I’m wondering if there’s anybody out there for me or if I’m destined to remain single forever. And if so, well, it’s not quite the hopeless predicament some Austen adaptations might try to make out. I might be twenty-seven, but I’m not frightened.”

Ellie snorted. “It’s a good thing Emma-Jane isn’t here. She hates that version.”

“It’s a shame more people don’t know the books to be able to tell what is Austen authentic and what is a screenwriter’s fantasy.”

“Mrs. Darcy.”