Niamh nodded at Julian, her smile polite but a touch weary. Even though she and Jonathan were in the middle of a divorce, it wasn’t final yet. Technically, she was still a married woman.
Just the thought of it dragged her mood down. She sighed and turned to Lily. “I’m just having dinner with a colleague, that’s all. There’s no law against a married woman eating with a man, is there? Or are you stuck in the Victorian era?”
“Colleague?” Lily scoffed. “Since when does a housewife have colleagues?”
Olive jumped in. “Yeah, right. Next you’ll say you’re meeting old classmates. At least come up with a convincing story.”
“And how many classmates could she possibly have?” Lily continued relentlessly. “Didn’t she drop out before finishing college?”
It was clear the two women at the next table were out to pick a fight. Julian bristled, quick to defend Niamh. “You two need to quit looking down on people. Ms. Rivers is a counselor at the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center, actually.”
The Juvenile Rehabilitation Center?” Lily rolled her eyes. “And how much does that pay? Pennies?”
Just then, Olive thrust her phone in Lily’s face. “Look what I found!”
She pulled up a volunteer recruiting notice for the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center.
“Volunteer? So you don’t even get paid. What are you bragging about?” Olive
sneered.
“Exactly,” Lily chimed in. “Calling herself a counselor. Give me a break.”
The two of them sniped back and forth, and Julian’s hands curled into fists, itching to retaliate–but of course, he couldn’t lay a hand on them.
Niamh barely cared about the barbs from Marina’s so–called friends. What she noticed more was Julian’s clenched jaw and how he looked ready to defend her. Somehow, it was almost endearing.
“Enough, you two,” came Marina’s syrupy voice. Her makeup was flawless, her whole expression dripping with exaggerated sympathy for Niamh. “You have to understand, working at a place like the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center isn’t exactly a dream job. It’s basically a holding pen for troubled teens, not much different from a prison. As someone with a real doctorate in psychology from a proper university,
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I’d never apply there. They have to settle for whoever’s available–volunteers without degrees or experience, just looking to pad their resumes. It saves money for them, and gives people with…let’s say, fewer qualifications a shot.”
Her words sounded reasonable on the surface, but the subtext was as clear as day–she was belittling both Niamh and the Center itself. Julian’s jaw tightened
even more.
Niamh, unfazed, reached into her purse and calmly pulled out a neat stack of certificates.
“You can say whatever you want about me, but the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center is hardly as unprofessional as you claim. Their counselors need three official certifications. Without all three, you can’t even take the entrance exam, let alone get hired.”
She fanned out her documents: a licensed therapist’s certificate, a social worker’s license, and a diploma from a top psychological institute.
Lily and Olive stared at each other, speechless for the first time.
A flicker of insecurity crossed Marina’s face. She knew she didn’t have those certifications herself.
“These days, anyone can buy fake certificates online,” Lily scoffed half–heartedly. “Who knows if yours are real?”
“Yeah, what’s the point?” Olive sniped. “It’s not like a piece of paper compares to a PhD like Marina’s.”
Niamh never expected them to give her any credit. She just smiled, ready to tuck her documents away, when the owner of the restaurant–an older Japanese woman who’d married and moved to Aldenville years ago–hurried over.
She spoke in a mix of broken English and Japanese, her words tumbling out excitedly when she saw Niamh’s certificates.
Niamh responded fluently in Japanese, surprising everyone at the table.
It turned out the owner’s daughter was studying to become a counselor, but hadn’t passed the exam last time study materials.
around. She wanted to ask Niamh for advice on better
Niamh recommended a few books and highlighted some key points, earning her a stream of praise from the owner–who declared her smart, kind, and beautiful. Niamh blushed, not quite used to such genuine compliments.
