“Do you still have that dunce cap I wore at the Christmas office party a few years back?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, it flew into the fire pit and almost burned down the entire AirBnB,” she says.
If I recall the events correctly, Brian ate some magic mushrooms and went on a solo vision quest. He seemed to be the only one having a good time the next day. “That’s the last time we partied in Joshua Tree,” I say.
“Memories,” Sandra says, stiff as a board.
“I miss those days,” I say.
“Well, I don’t,” she says. “And I didn’t come in here to reminisce.”
I laugh, anticipating the shit storm she’s about to drop in my lap. “Of course you didn’t,” I say. “Okay, on with the show then.”
She drops a folder onto my desk. “I came to tell you that Mama Bear is officially cancelled.”
I nod. “Figured as much.”
“Since you’re not capable of caring about our safety within the company, I reached out to Jim personally,” she says.
I widen my eyes. “And?”
She raises her chin. “We can all breathe a little easier with me at the wheel,” she says.
“He’s letting us stay?” I ask.
She loosens up enough to share a smile for once. “Yes,” she says. “We are staying in Seattle.”
“Even though most of those shareholders live in New York?” I ask.
“As long as we fly them over first class, they can handle the six hour flight,” she says.
This is incredible news. It means Sammy can stay at her new school and keep the friends she’s already made. It also means I’m going to be near the woman I lost it all with. It’s not going to be easy seeing her at school meetings, or at the park, or flirting with some hot stud who Dean Berman hires out of spite for me.
No, this is not incredible news for me. I have to get her back. I’m just not sure what the best method is for doing that.
I stand. “This is perfect,” I say. “The entire staff can keep their jobs. We can find another acquisition to take on. The world is our oyster.”
The excitement on Sandra’s face is so palpable it makes me feel bad. And falling into the old habit of working obsessively isn’t going to make me feel any better. It’s just a habit, something I’ve grown accustomed to doing when the going gets really tough. I’m not saying it out loud, but I feel like absolute shit.
I loved Ali. She was my person, but we needed more time. Now, there’s no going back.
I don’t want this job. I just want her in my family.
“I have an idea,” I say.
Sandra drops her smile. “Then you should shut your mouth fast and throw it in the trash,” she says. “Your ideas suck. You need to have less of them.”
Clearly, she’s right. Everyone I love ends up running for the hills, or they die. That’s why I think this idea in particular is a decent one. If everyone is so repulsed by me, it might be better if I just live in the hills instead. When you’re unwanted, it’s better to stand to the side.
“Just hear me out,” I say.
“I’m done hearing you out, Marc. There’s nothing I would rather do less than to hear you out.”
She’s going to want to hear this, so I don’t let her stop me. “I want you and Brian to be partners. And I want to step down. You take over. Brian gets thirty percent. I don’t know. We’ll figure out.”
I’m just spitting things out before my headache takes over and stops me from driving home later.
She stands, unable to accept it. “Marc...”
“I’m serious, Sandra. I’m done,” I say with a tone that lets her know how serious I am. “I think I’ve been done for a long time.”
She doesn’t know what to say, so I keep going. “It’s a much overdo gift,” I say. “You’ve been propping up the company for years. You were my secretary. Then, you quickly excelled to be the best team leader I’ve ever hired. Now you’re at the very top, and you’re going to roll in the money. Take the gift.”
She blushes. “This is… too much.”
“Sandra, I don’t want it. It’s toxic for me. Besides, I need to see my daughter more,” I say, turning to stare at Mount Ranier. I’ve always wanted to hike something like that mountain. I’ve just never had the chance to find that adventure. Maybe that Mama Bear idea is rubbing off on me. How much is a bulk order of patchouli soap again?
Sandra is tearing up.
“There’s a lot I need to take care of,” I say. “Just promise me one thing.”
The tears finally spill over. She paces the room, fanning her face. “Anything,” she says. “Keep talking. Don’t mind me.”
“Don’t ever talk badly about Ali again,” I say. “And if you see her again, treat her with the utmost respect and kindness. Apologize.”
“I will,” she says.
“Promise me.”
She furrows her brows. “She’s not your girlfri—”
“Promise.”
She bends her neck. “I promise,” she says. “That was… wrong of me.”
“You were taking out your frustration with me on her,” I say.
“You’re a bastard sometimes,” she says.
“I’m sure she’d agree with you.”
I’ve never been good at consoling people when they cry, but this is kinda nice. Brian will make a stink about the thirty percent thing, but thirty percent of a billion is still three hundred million dollars. “You deserve it,” I say, standing. “As for me, my time is done here.”
She dampens the tears with a tissue. “No, it isn’t,” she says. “You’ll be here for the next holiday party.”
I laugh. Probably true.
The holidays are behind us. Soon, spring will bring its healing showers. And then, in the summer, the weather will be stunning. Everyone will spend their hours outside. It’s the perfect time to go on a walk or, you know, take your dog with
