The Bureau of Holiday Affairs

by Andi Marquette

  “Mr. Pruitt would like to know when I can start.”

  Robin grinned. “Great news. Did you hold out for the salary you wanted?”

  “I didn’t have to. It’s an excellent offer.”

  “So go on and give your notice.”

  Laura stared out the window. “I just did. How did it go today?”

  “He wasn’t surprised that I resigned, but he was subdued, which was strange for him.” He’d also avoided her direct gaze. Typical of an old boys’ club. Bullies, but when confronted directly, they didn’t know what to do.

  She turned to look at Robin. “When’s your last day?”

  “I told him I’d stay on consultative status until the end of the month to get Hodges up to speed on my client base and accounts, but that I’d be off-site for the most part. I don’t think he’ll mind that I’m not in the building all that much.” Robin smiled. “And I won’t, either. Want to make a bet that he’s not closing my position after all?”

  “And that he’ll rename it, stick Hodges in there, and then hire somebody else at less pay for Hodges’s old position?”

  “I see you’ve played this game before.”

  Laura smiled. “I haven’t been here that long, but some things you figure out pretty quickly.”

  “I’m really sorry that this place isn’t what you thought. Or what I thought. And I’m also sorry that I made most of your time here crappy.”

  “Accepted. But you made up for it at the end.”

  “Good to know.” Robin raised her cup in a toast. “If you ever need anything, contact me.”

  “The same to you.”

  Robin checked the clock on her phone. “It’s almost four on a Friday. Feel like having a drink?”

  “I’d love to. Let me finish up a few things.”

  “I’ll do the same. Twenty minutes?”

  “That should be enough.” Laura left, and Robin stared out the window again, thinking about Jill, the meeting on Tuesday with North by Northwest, and Seattle. She should have felt out of control, resigning from a position like this without definite backup. Instead she felt anticipation and excitement, like she was about to embark on an adventure she’d been looking forward to for a long, long time.

  She thought then about the absurdly generous benefits package Frost offered. Robin had been prepared to highball it so she could bargain him down to what she expected, but he’d already prepared an offer greater than what she’d wanted. Even the corporate secrets clauses that every severance deal included weren’t as restrictive as some, and pretty much had nothing to do with the work she’d be doing if North by Northwest hired her. Or a comparable organization. Though at this point, she’d settle for working in some funky café if it got her back to Seattle.

  Robin finished her coffee and went back to her desk. That wasn’t like Frost, to have such a generous offer ready to go. All the years she’d been here, Frost never let money go without a fight. But he was clearly relieved when she signed, and he offered recommendations for any future employers. Something told her he would, and that she had nothing to worry about in that regard. Almost like she had guardian angels or something.

  Or maybe a posse of secret agents. “Thanks, you guys,” she said softly. On a whim, she took a clean sheet of letterhead from her desk drawer and wrote a quick note: “Thank you, Agent Tolson, Decker, Lady Magnolia, and Mr. Rampus. I can’t say it was all fun, but I can say I definitely needed it.” She signed and folded it and slipped it into a blank envelope and wrote Agent Tolson on the front. She left it faceup on her desk then packed her laptop and tablet up, grabbed her coat, and went to wait for Laura.

  Robin parked the rental in a public parking structure, deciding she’d rather do that than battle traffic for a spot on the streets, especially this close to Pioneer Square. Seattle traffic felt different than that on the East Coast. Especially in midtown Manhattan. No comparison. Still, it was much easier to just do public parking, especially since she didn’t know how much longer Jill was going to be at the gallery.

  Her phone rang, and she picked it up immediately because it was Frank, and she hadn’t talked to him in a week.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  “Rob? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  “I’m fine—”

  “What the hell? I get this weird text about big changes, and you’ll talk to me later—”

  “I knew Deb’s folks were visiting this week, and I didn’t want to lay it on you until they left.” She opened the car door.

  “Lay what on me? Please tell me you’re okay.”

  “I did. But I’ll tell you again. I’m fine, Frankie. Fine. Better than fine. Things are pretty great, actually.”

  He was quiet for a second. “Then what’s up?”

  “Okay, promise me you’ll just listen? And then you can ask whatever questions you want.” She knew he probably wouldn’t be able to stay quiet. He never could, since they had been kids, but it was a habit with them, the promise-me-you’ll-listen! tactic. And when he broke it, they’d always end up giggling about it.

  “Tell me.”

  “First, don’t worry about me. Everything’s good.”

  “Jesus, Rob. Did you kill somebody? Are you on the lam in Mexico?”

  Robin laughed. “Oh, my God. That’s what you think of me?”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. What?” His impatience was obvious.

  “First, I left Frost.”

  “You what?”

  “I quit my job. I’m not with Frost anymore.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s what I thought you said. When?”

  Robin stretched one leg out of the car. “Last Friday. This is my one-week anniversary.” She waited for him to freak out.

  “That is the best news ever,” he said, completely surprising her.

  “Wait. You’re okay with it?”

  “Okay? I’m goddamn ecstatic! Rob, you were losing your soul there. I kind of understood why you went into business, but after your first few years there, I wondered why you didn’t leave. And then…” He didn’t finish, but Robin knew he wanted to say when things got bad between them. “Wow. This is such great news. I kept hoping that you’d leave, because if you did, you’d be yourself again. Maybe I’m going to get my wish.”

  Robin bit her lip, fighting tears though she wasn’t sure why she felt like crying. Residue, Jill had called it the other night. Getting rid of toxic leftovers. Shedding an old skin. “I hope so.”

  “I’m pretty sure I will,” he continued. “So are you all right? Do you have money? A place to stay?”

  Robin smiled. Frank and Deb were teachers. Combined, their salaries were a third what she’d been making at Frost. And here he was trying to look out for her. “I’m good. Really great severance package, and I got another job.”

  Silence. Then, “What? Already?” There was a note of dread in his voice as if he thought she’d company-jumped to another place like Frost.

  “Director of an art foundation. They’re nonprofit, and they grant money to artists and art causes.”

  “Art? You’re back in art?”

  “In a way, yeah. I mean, I’ll be responsible for fundraising and looking for new projects and helping find new avenues of coolness, I guess you could say.”

  “You’re serious.”

  She got out of the car, shut the door, and leaned against it. “Totally. And I’m really excited about it.”

  “When the hell did that happen?”

  “Kind of a weird story.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, I applied for the job a couple weeks ago—maybe not that long ago. And then I was at an art opening New Year’s Eve, and the director of the foundation board was there because they happened to have funded the artist whose opening it was. And then a couple days after that, the director of the board called me and said the
people from the hiring committee were going to be in New York on Tuesday. So I went to chat with them, and they offered me the job that evening. It was all pretty amazing.” And when she said yes and got off the phone, she did the nuttiest, craziest party dance ever, knocking all kinds of things over in her apartment.

  He laughed, then, but it was his really happy laugh, the one he did when he was super glad about some news. “I’m just—I don’t know. Really excited for you. And you sound so much better. So where is this foundation?”

  Robin was grinning now, so wide it almost hurt. “Ready for this? Seattle.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No, it is. I’m in Seattle right now.”

  “What? You’re there now?” He was practically shouting over the phone, and Robin had to hold it away from her ear.

  “Yes. Just got in about an hour ago. I’ll be here for a week or so, because I want to find a place to live.”

  “Holy shit. You’re house hunting in Seattle. Do you think—” He stopped.

  “Yeah. I’ll drive by the old house and take a picture.”

  They both lapsed into a shared silence before Frank spoke again. “Man, this is the best news. I am so happy for you. Are you still going to visit us?” His voice carried a note of worry.

  “Hell, yes. I don’t start at the new job until mid-March. I figure I can find a rental on this trip, and then when I get out here, look around for something else. I’ll be able to stay a few extra days with you. I can help with the baby’s room.” She pushed off the car and with the phone braced between her ear and her shoulder, she buttoned her pea coat.

  “That would be so great. Because I haven’t gotten much done, what with Deb’s parents visiting, and them going all loony over her because, you know, baby. I’m kind of chopped meat, basically.” He laughed. “Plus, with school starting up, it’s been kind of nuts.”

  “Good thing I’m between jobs, then,” she teased. “So speaking of the baby. Have you and Deb come up with possible names?”

  “Actually, yes. Travis if it’s a boy, Mallory if it’s a girl. What do you think?”

  Again, Robin’s grin almost hurt. “Love them both.”

  “But it depends on the baby, too. When it’s born, it might not want either name.”

  “Guess you’ll find out.” But Robin was pretty sure Travis would be fine with his name. She locked the car and put the key fob in her jeans pocket.

  “Yeah.” And then he went quiet again, probably in a daddy haze. A few moments later, he said, “Damn, this is so amazing. Great news from you—I know it’s scary, to quit a major job like that. But I’m just so glad because you sound like my old Robin, and I was so worried I had lost you.” He stopped and cleared his throat, and Robin knew it was because he was trying not to cry.

  She wiped her eyes.

  Frank continued, “I love you, Rob. You have to know that.”

  “I do. And I love you, too.”

  He cleared his throat again. “So is that all the big news?”

  “That wasn’t enough?”

  “That was pretty big. But I know how you are. You usually hold some stuff back.”

  “There is some other stuff, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I’ll probably be able to tell you more when I see you next month.”

  “Oh, come on. Really?” He used a tone from their childhood, when he’d cajole, coax, and sometimes outright bribe her until she finally spilled whatever she was keeping from him. This time, though, it wouldn’t work.

  “Really. February.”

  “Is it good?”

  “So far.” Thoughts of Jill filled her mind. It was very, very good.

  “And you’re not going to tell me until next freaking month?”

  “Nope.”

  “Challenge accepted. Operation Robin’s Secret will commence as soon as we hang up.”

  She laughed. “Not this time. But if anything changes between now and then, I’ll let you know.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” He did a cartoon villain laugh, and Robin laughed, too.

  “Okay, I have to go,” she said. “I need to get some stuff squared away, since I just got in. I’ll let you know how things go here, and I’ll get that photo of the house.”

  “Sounds good. I know it’s weird to congratulate somebody on quitting their job, but in this case, congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I know there’s more to that story, too.”

  “A very long one. For February.”

  “But I’ll talk to you before then?” He sounded tentative, as if this might be too good to be true.

  “You’d better. I’ll send you photos of my house-hunting adventures. Now go take care of Deb. She might want some kind of weird food or something.”

  “No doubt. Later.”

  “Bye.” She hung up and slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She’d worn her motorcycle boots, and as she left the parking garage and walked the three blocks to the gallery, a sense of homecoming washed over her. She felt as if she could fly, as if she was twenty years younger, ready to take on the world.

  A coffee house drew her in a half block before the gallery, but once she had her drink, she went back outside. Cloudy and cold, but not unbearable. Typical January weather here, as familiar as the view of Puget Sound and the Needle. She sipped, enjoying everything about this day. Since Robin was a few minutes early, she loitered near the gallery and drank a bit more coffee. A nearby bench outside the restaurant next door gave her a nice place to do that, and she sipped, idly watching a woman walk by with her dog, a big goofy black lab. A guy across the street who looked like a grizzled sea captain who’d spent way too much time with his grog was talking to a man holding what looked like a tourist map. His wife was tugging on his sleeve, pulling him away from the sea captain. Pioneer Square attracted characters, cranks, and down-and-out as well as sightseers.

  A young girl exited the gallery, carrying a military-style backpack. It was decorated with hand-painted cartoon figures, interspersed with big, colorful stylized peace signs and flowers. She wore a lightweight blue coat—the kind of coat ubiquitous in this part of the country, made for rain but probably with some space-age fleece as a lining—that fell to mid-thigh. Her jeans were rolled up in a style from the eighties, over skateboard-style sneakers. Robin approved.

  The girl approached, and as she did, Robin realized who it was. She kept her revelation to herself.

  “Hi. Do you mind if I sit here?” Madison asked, sounding much older than she looked, the expression in her eyes reminiscent of Jill when Jill was in her serious moods.

  “Sure.” Robin slid over. “Waiting for someone?”

  Madison sized her up, gauging what degree of stranger-hood Robin represented. “Yes. And he’ll be here any minute.” She sat down and put her backpack between them on the bench.

  “Cool.” Robin sipped her coffee, wondering if she should reveal who she was. Better not. Jill hadn’t seemed ready for Robin to meet her daughter.

  Madison took her phone out and engaged in some texting. Robin continued to watch pedestrians.

  “Are you waiting for someone, too?” Madison asked after a couple of minutes.

  “Yes.”

  Madison went back to her phone, then looked up at Robin again, brow furrowed. “Are you Robin?”

  “Yes. Hi, Madison. Good to meet you.” She stuck her hand out, and Madison took it. Her handshake was firm. Jill was teaching her well.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Another question, sounding much older than Madison looked.

  “Didn’t feel it was my place.”

  Madison smiled. “Because my mom probably wants to conduct some kind of special introduction between us.”

  Robin smiled back. “Well, yeah. Not sure this is the trip she wanted to do that, though.”

>   “Probably not.” Madison’s eyes seemed to sparkle mischievously. “But this is okay with me.”

  “I’m glad. Because it’s okay with me, too.”

  A maroon late-model Honda SUV pulled up to the curb.

  “That’s my dad,” Madison said as she stood.

  “Okay. Guess we’ll get the special introduction from your mom later.”

  Madison grinned. “Yep. Bye.”

  Robin watched as she got into the front passenger seat, and as the car pulled away from the curb, Madison waved. Robin waved back and marveled at how natural it felt to interact with Jill’s daughter, as if they’d known each other a while. She thought about that. If things got more serious with Jill, Robin could end up a stepparent, which meant a lot of responsibility. Was she ready for something like that?

  She finished her coffee, rolling that thought around. Yes. She was. If she was going to be with Jill, then she had to make room for Jill’s family. And it wasn’t a matter of “had to.” It was a matter of “wanted to,” something she felt deep. Robin got up, tossed her empty cup into a nearby trash can, and went to the front entrance of the gallery. This one was devoted primarily to Jill’s work, a lot of which was visible on the walls through the front windows. It reminded Robin of New Year’s Eve, and a flush raced down her legs. She pulled the door open and stepped inside, immediately comfortable as faint art smells teased her nostrils.

  Robin unbuttoned her coat and loosened her scarf. Somehow, seeing Jill’s art here in Seattle made it even better.

  “Hi,” said a woman Robin estimated to be in her mid-twenties. She wore loose black linen pants and a rust-colored blouse, also linen. She wore her hair in an afro, and her glasses were so trendy that Robin immediately felt old.

  “Hi. I’m actually here to see Jill—”

  “Hey.” Jill emerged from the back, quickened her pace, and was in Robin’s arms before Robin could say anything else. “How was your flight?”

  “Fine. Long.”

  “You’re probably tired.” Jill stepped back, much to Robin’s disappointment.

  “Hasn’t hit me yet.”

  Jill smiled and took Robin’s hand, and that was almost as good as the hug, because she intertwined their fingers. “This is Amira. She’s practically my third arm around here. Amira, this is Robin.”