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The teller comes back and opens the cash drawer. “The manager said that we don’t typically do this for international savings bonds, but because we know you we can do it this time.”
The Canadian dollar is at a good rate now, and I deposit over a thousand dollars into our checking account. It’s enough to pay for the trip. I’m anxious the rest of the day, watching the clock and waiting for Scott to pick me up.
When he does, he has a huge grin on his face.
“Well? What do you think?” I ask, slipping into the passenger seat.
“I think it looks cool.”
“It is cool,”?I assure him. “There’s a real sense of community. And it’s full of people who care about the world around them and want to make a difference. Cool people, amazing neighbors. And the natural beauty. It’s so gorgeous. There’s quality education, and health care.” I stop, watching his face as he drives us back to the little cabin.
He glances over at me and nods. “Yeah! Looks nice.”
Opportunity
The first thing that hits me, before we even get off the plane, is how incredibly green everything is. There are leaves on the trees, and the grass is so much greener than in Grand Marais, where dull, dead patches are just starting to show through the snow. The airplane taxis to the terminal, where a Canadian flag comes into view and fills me with sentimental calm. I’m home! What a long, long time it’s been. Thirteen years. Thirteen years of seeking and pursuing and stressing and trying, and here I am, back again.
The interview is in Victoria, just a short ferry ride from Salt Spring. I know my way around here, and I drive us in our rental car through the downtown core, pointing out landmarks that I used to know. It’s all wonderfully familiar. A residential neighborhood near the pier has been converted into hotels and shops, and our hotel is among them. I could have looked up old friends and stayed with them, but we don’t have the time this trip. There will be plenty of opportunities to track them down when we live out here again. We walk into the lobby holding hands and check into our room, which looks out over the parking lot.
In the morning, Scott comes with me downtown and walks around while I go in for my interview. I’m feeling great. Confident, hopeful, excited. I straighten my long black skirt, check my posture, and walk out of the elevator to meet Kayla and Ray, co-owners of the Salt Spring Resort. Kayla is not at all what I expected. I have an image in my mind of the Salt Spring residents all wearing Birkenstocks with long, flowing hair. But she’s wearing four-inch heels and has her hair piled glamorously on top of her head. She greets me with a hug and welcomes me into a meeting room where her business partner, an older man in a gray suit, is seated at the end of a long polished table. He introduces himself and doesn’t get up, but extends his hand in greeting, and I reach over the table to shake it.
Kayla takes a seat next to her partner and opens a folder. I recognize my résumé, with the blue spiral next to my name in the header. She scans it and asks me a few general questions. Then she nods, closes the folder, and leans back in her chair. “So, Melanie,” she says, “tell us why you think you’d be perfect for this position.”
I tell them about my experience working with people, my communications training, and my marketing qualifications. I tell them about my past and my love of Salt Spring and how I would like to return to the place where I spent many happy days. I’m putting my best foot forward, giving it my all, and being genuine at the same time. As I talk I imagine walking through the resort grounds, meeting and hanging out with all the cool people who come to stay in the rustic cottages. “I can see myself there,” I tell them, “helping to make it a wonderful, important experience for visitors.”
Kayla’s beaming and her partner’s nodding. After a few more standard questions, Kayla asks if I would mind waiting in the lobby for a moment. I walk out and shut the door behind me, and I take a seat in the leather chair. The position’s mine. It’s mine if I want it. I know it.
Two minutes later, the door opens and Kayla welcomes me back in.
“We would absolutely love, Melanie, to welcome you on board as our new manager. We’re certain that you are the perfect person for this position.”
I smile and tell them that I’m certain of it too, and we make arrangements to meet on Salt Spring tomorrow at one o’clock for a tour of the resort. I will then have three weeks to go back to Minnesota and pack my things. They’ll pay to move us out, and they’ll have on-site accommodations ready for us. It’ll be a whirlwind move and a busy summer, but then fall will come and we’ll be living on Salt Spring. I’ll be part of the Salt Spring community again.
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