Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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Panic can be defined as sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety. I would define it as my new best friend. It set in about five days ago and decided to stick around. It was my financial situation at first. I went to the bank and opened an account in my name – my very first checking account that's just mine. When I handed the branch manager twenty-three hundred dollars, I was proud of myself for taking the first step, but then I started wondering how long the money would last.
A second bout of hysteria came after I realized everyone I knew was at work, except for me. I've sent resumes to every possible place I can think of – even magazines in Manhattan – but I haven't gotten so much as a "thanks for inquiring," email. I'm afraid word has spread about me quitting Posh without giving the proper two-weeks notice and I've been blacklisted by every fashion journal in the state. Jo convinced Chuck to hire me at Maribelle's, but he could only offer me a six-hour shift, three days a week. I'm grateful he was able to offer me anything, but the short shifts aren't easing my anxiety.
When I sat down to research my health insurance options I was immediately discouraged. I'm healthy. I rarely drink. I've never smoked a cigarette. Eighty-five percent of my diet is a nutritionist's dream. I drink plenty of water and workout five days a week, but despite all that, every basic health plan is out of my price range. Unless I suddenly come into an inheritance or hit the lottery, I'm screwed.
On top of everything else, I need a divorce lawyer. Since we were married in the state of New York we need to be divorced in the state of New York. I wrote down the first ten names I found online with the best reviews, and even made the calls, but my hope of finding someone who will not only represent me, but also stand up for me in court was quickly destroyed.
All ten attorneys are either acquaintances of Will or they're scared they're going to burn a bridge with his family. No one is willing to help.
I've been resorting back to old behaviors. I have no appetite. I can't sleep. I've spent the last four nights pacing the hardwood floors of our kitchen, practically wearing off the finish, and when I'm not pacing, I'm attached to my laptop, searching for jobs where I can use my degree. I can be a Luxury Brand Manager, or a Fashion Retail Buyer. I'd literally be shopping for a living. I can be a Fashion PR Specialist, where I work for celebrities or models and attend fashion shows, red carpet events and award shows.
All of those opportunities are a dream come true for most people in the fashion industry, but they're not what I want to do. Shopping for A to D-list celebrities is not where my passions lie. I want to write about fashion, not dress the next 'It' girl.
"Delaney," I hear someone say in the dark kitchen. "It's three o'clock in the morning."
"Don't hurt me!" I shout at the sound of his voice. When I see him, I press my hand against my chest to calm my racing heart. "Geez Dad! You scared the shit out of me!"
"Of course, I did. You're sitting in the dark."
"I'm looking for a job and I didn't want to wake anyone up."
