Gavin stood up. The two men shook hands and changed places. After a few words of praise for Mr. Hanson and his leadership, Gavin cut to the chase.
“Yesterday, Hewlett and Hanson was purchased by Spector Partners, a division of Carmond-Fox International. As you probably know, Spector is one of the largest commercial real-estate companies in the nation, with offices in twenty-four states.”
Gavin smiled, moving his eyes from left to right across the room, as though he was trying to make eye contact with everyone present.
“I’m sure you’re all worried about changes that might be coming. Anytime a company is purchased there must be a merging of cultures. But the good news for all of you is that you’re now part of the Spector family. As part of that family, you’ll be eligible for our generous benefits package and bonus program, and have greater opportunities for advancement.
“Now, I am sure you all have questions and concerns, but believe me when I say there is nothing to worry about. Spector purchased Hewlett and Hanson because we liked what we saw. We have no immediate plans to make any sweeping changes, so the best thing for all of you is . . .”
No immediate plans?
That’s when I stopped listening and started worrying. I’d been down this road before, back in Minnesota when the bank I worked for was bought by another bank, and half the teller jobs were eliminated, including mine. There wasn’t much work in our little town. I’d had to take a waitressing job with terrible hours and worse pay.
My fingers clenched into fists so tight I could feel my nails pressing into the flesh of my palms. My heart started racing and, for a moment, it felt like I’d forgotten to breathe. I needed this job. I didn’t like it, but I needed it. More importantly, Jamie needed it. The salary I earned at Hewlett and Hanson paid for groceries, the mortgage, my car payment, and twenty percent of the cost of Jamie’s care at Landsdowne. The remaining eighty percent was picked up by company insurance.
If I lost my job . . .
The meeting was over. Everybody got up and started milling around, talking nervously. Denise Fine was wiping away tears. She’d been with the company since the very beginning. I wanted to comfort her, but I was ten seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. I knew I had to get out of there before I lost it.
The aisles were jammed with bodies and there was no easy path to the door. Pushing my way through the crowd, I accidentally bumped into somebody and muttered an apology. Gavin Nutting turned around.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and introduced himself, even though there wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t know who he was. “And you are?”
“I’m Grace. Grace Saunders.”
I took his outstretched hand. His grip wasn’t viselike, but close.
“Oh, yes,” he said, nodding. “Your husband had a fall, hiking accident. I’ve heard about you.”
The way he said it told me there was plenty to worry about.
* * *
“Grace? Grace, are you in there?”
Ava Goddard knocked on the door of the bathroom stall. I was leaning with my forehead resting against the wall, my heart racing. I felt too breathless to answer. She pounded the door again so hard that I could feel the vibration through the wall.
“I know you’re in there, Grace. Open up.”
I extended my right arm and released the lock. Ava opened the door.
“Oh, crap. Look at you,” she said, her voice a mixture of pity and disgust. “Hang on a second, Grace. I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t care if she came back or not. I was too busy trying to quell the stampede of panic flooding my body to care. I heard a metallic thunk as she locked the bathroom’s outer door, then the rustling of paper and the running of water.
“Sit down.” She grasped my shoulder, guiding me toward the toilet, then helped me sit down on the lid. “Put your head down and breathe into this, slowly.”
Ava handed me a small white paper bag. I held it to my mouth and breathed. When the danger of hyperventilation passed, I realized the bag was meant for sanitary disposal.
“Very resourceful,” I said when I could breathe again.
“I’m good in an emergency. I used to be a nurse.” She frowned. “You still look terrible. Here. Put this on the back of your neck.”
She handed me some wet paper towels and I laid them on my neck as instructed. The threat of nausea ebbed, as did the sense of panic and impending doom.
“You were a nurse?” I asked.
Ava was one of my four bosses, the one who hired me, actually, the same week Jamie and I moved to Portland so he could begin his paramedic training. I’d worked for her close to two years, but the only thing I knew about her personal life was that she was single, liked to vacation in Kauai, shop in the Collectors section at Nordstrom—the department with all the designer stuff—owned a penthouse in the Pearl District, drove a Lexus, and took soy milk in her coffee. That was it.
It wasn’t that she was a cold person or a bad boss—in fact, she was a pretty good boss. She’d never treated me unfairly or talked down to me. But she was very focused. She worked hard, kept her private life private, and held her cards close.
“I was,” she said. “A long time ago and only for three years.”
“Why’d you stop?”
She handed me another wet paper towel. I pressed it to my forehead.
“Because I got tired of working all the hours on God’s green earth and having absolutely nothing to show for it. Because I like being in control of
