“I got married. Do you have any idea how much weddings cost?!”
The FBI agent’s lips quirked. “Unfortunately, I do.” He looked to be about my mother’s age, and I wondered if he’d recently suffered through a daughter’s wedding. His eyes softened, and I relaxed a bit, deciding he was probably a nice guy just doing his job. He then said, “You also purchased an expensive car.”
“No, my domineering husband did after I got pregnant,” I growled. “People buy cars. So what?”
The INTech guy cut in. “This past November, we had a breakthrough when the pattern deviated from its norm during the fourth quarter, and funds continued disappearing. Since this year’s fiscal commencement, activity has nearly doubled, isolated solely in North Carolina.”
“I’ve been in Minnesota since January. I would think that means I’m not involved.”
“It would appear so.” His smile was icy, and his tone nowhere near mollifying. “Describe your relationship with Jayne Balbach.”
“Jayne?”
“According to our records, you hired her as your personal secretary shortly before the illegal activity resumed.”
“My former secretary resigned, and I hired Jayne to replace her.”
“What were her duties?”
“The usual, I suppose. She answered calls, ran my calendar, booked travel, and managed the office budget.”
“And you didn’t notice anything amiss?”
“Look, last year my personal life was a mess. I spent the winter running the district and planning my wedding, then I became pregnant, then I was put on mandatory bed rest. That’s when Kirsten took over. Jayne is a twenty-year INTech veteran. She’s managed budgets far larger and more intricate than mine. I trusted her judgment. I still would.”
“She’s been implicated,” the INTech guy said, boring a hole into my forehead.
I balked. “Jayne can’t be involved!”
“And why is that?”
“She’s just so nice.” The FBI agent snorted and rolled his eyes.
“You’re friends then?”
“Yes. She came to my wedding, and we used to hang out at the same bar.”
“She’s currently missing. We have reason to believe she’s fled the country,” the FBI agent said, crossing his arms.
I laughed. “She didn’t flee the country. She eloped with a dear friend of mine.”
The two men glanced at one another, and then stared at me. “Where?” They asked in unison.
“Mexico.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Walsh. You’ve been very helpful.”
“So, I’m not being arrested?”
“No. You’re free to go,” our security guy said. He shook my hand and ushered me to the door.
“But Mrs. Walsh,” The FBI agent said, narrowing his eyes. “If you discuss this matter with anyone, including your husband, you will be.”
That was the moment I wet myself.
51
The Reaper Wears Ralph Lauren
That night I paced in my hotel room, my thoughts chasing one another like squirrels during mating season. I didn’t believe Jayne was guilty. We’d worked together; she was a decent person. If Kirsten was trying to frame someone, Mona and Gene might soon find themselves staring dumbly at an FBI agent as well. And if I forewarned them, I would be arrested! I quaked at the thought.
I ached to call Pete—ached to hear his comforting voice, ached to feel his strong arms around me. He was my solace, my strength, my safe place, and I realized in that moment that I could not lose him.
At three a.m., I sat bolt upright in bed. The solution was so simple: Kirsten had been arrested, therefore North Carolina needed a new leader! I threw on clothes and hailed a cab.
I’d had every intention of camping out in front of Bob’s office until he arrived. Imagine my surprise when I found his door wide open. At a dead run, I burst in without so much as a knock.
“I want North Carolina back.”
As if nothing could faze him at this point, he simply glanced at his watch. “I’m surprised it took you this long.”
Though slightly shocked by his response, I pressed on. “Look, I know the Kirsten thing is paramount to you at the moment, but—”
“That investigation’s been ongoing for years.” He waved his hand as if shooing away a fly. “Right now, I’ve got more important things to worry about than a couple of sticky-fingered employees.”
He leaned back in his chair and cast his tired eyes towards the ceiling, the world’s very weight on his shoulders. I realized he looked absolutely wretched.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He chuckled sourly. “Sometimes, I hate this job.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Our stock’s down.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” I monitored its value daily, anxiously watching my pot of gold, the sum stored for my—our—retirement, slowly bleed away.
“To make our investors happy, the board has mandated major budgets cuts.”
“Okay, I’m willing to work with less.”
He shook his head. “You’re missing the point. Cutting budgets means cutting jobs. We’re shaving personnel by thirty percent. Losses will be greatest among middle management.”
Let me tell you, if foreboding was a tangible object, I would have been holding it in my arms right then. “You’re letting DMs go?” I thought of the faces I knew so well, my colleagues and my friends. Suddenly my heart stopped beating entirely. “Are you letting me go?”
“You’re one of Frank’s people now.”
A violent tremor ran through me. “Is Frank letting me go?”
He smiled weakly and shook his head no. “Cashed in a favor.”
Nearly overwhelmed with gratitude, I wanted to throw my arms around his neck. But then I realized my personal problems had not been resolved. “If Frank’s not firing me, why can’t I have North Carolina back—become one of your people again?”
“That’s not an option.”
“Why? Why is that not an option? You’re a senior VP. You can do anything!” I suddenly lacked sympathy for his condition. I would give him a fucking heart attack if it meant getting my family whole and back to North Carolina again. I’d pay any price to ransom my marriage.
“That district no longer exists. To stretch resources, we’re consolidating North Carolina, South Carolina, and Tennessee into a single business unit. Once the merger’s complete, redundancies will be eliminated.”
“But—”
“Wall Street’s been demanding larger profit margins for some time. We’ve just been ignoring them. We can’t afford to any longer.” He shook his head dejectedly and met my eyes. “We’re going to lose some fine people.”
As his words sunk in, pure panic accosted me. “What about Mona Skarren? Will she lose her job?”
He actually sighed—a sound I’d never imagined him making. “Susan, focus on your own position.”
“But—”
“It’s been a pleasure working with you.”
“Bob—?”
“Shut the door on your way out.”
I choked out a sob and tore down the hall, launching myself into the greedy mouth of an open elevator. I’d never envisioned this happening. INTech was the top computer company in the world—king of the heap. We were infallible, impermeable, indestructible. No one told us what to do. And with North Carolina completely off the table..? Oh, Pete!
♥
Frank stood when I entered his palatial office. Numbed by fear and defeat, I’d walked the same city block for hours, circling the idol to which I’d pledged my life. It glimmered in the rising sun, a gold-plated Fort Knox, though now I knew differently.
“And here I thought we were friends,” he said, his voice silkily deceptive. I gulped audibly. Crossing my boss—this smooth, yet ruthless man who held my very future in his manicured hands was career suicide. Bob had been a benefactor and perhaps was still so. Frank had been my sovereign for only a few short months
; he owed me nothing.
“It’s just…my husband. Moving has been a strain on us.”
Shaking his head ruefully, he offered a sympathetic smile. “My first wife didn’t appreciate the importance of my career, either. Sometimes sacrifices are necessary. In the end, it comes down to priorities. Next round, consider marrying within the company. It will make your life easier. Trust me.”
I couldn’t breathe. Divorce Pete for my career? Bile scorched my throat at the mere thought. While coaxing it back into my stomach, I considered Frank’s romantic past as I understood it. I knew nothing of his first wife, only the second, whom Kirsten had knocked out of orbit. Kirsten possessed powers few men could resist. I’d always assumed Frank was another helpless victim, another sturdy tree felled by her poisoned axe. Though the truth, what I’d chosen to ignore was this: no matter how persuasive and alluring one is, it takes two to cross the line from colleagues to lovers. I glanced at the thick gold band garnishing his left hand and paled.
“The North Carolina spot. Bob explained why you can’t have it?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“That’s one of the reasons we placed Kirsten there. I had far more exciting plans for her, but your unexpected medical leave robbed me of them.” He raised an eyebrow as if the decision to save my child’s life had somehow inconvenienced him. And for one ghastly moment, I felt compelled to apologize.
“I would have enjoyed watching Bob publicly fire her, but arrested for embezzlement?” Carnal gratification painted his features as he leaned back in his chair, cradling his head. “Beautiful!” His laughter was both charming and sinister. It was an odd pairing that sent shivers down my spine.
“If necessary, you’ll be expected to testify in regards to your personal relationship with her…as will I.” Through his wall of windows, he appeared to admire the glass and metal landscape, though the tick in his jaw suggested otherwise. “Her games have fooled so many.”
After a moment, he swiveled back and met my eyes. “You shouldn’t have any problems…unless you were aware of her activities.” He arched an eyebrow in question, and I shook my head vehemently. “Good.” He picked up a Mont Blanc pen and gracefully maneuvered it through his fingers in a serpentine pattern. “A word of advice: if you are lying to me, please continue to do so. Deniability is a valuable commodity.”
“I have no reason to, Frank.”
He nodded, a smile lurking in his chiseled features. “Our legal department will thoroughly prepare you for trial and assist you should you need it. They’re the best money can buy.”
My veins froze solid at his implication. Finally, I gathered my wits and returned to a less scary topic. “I’m still confused about Minnesota. Had I not been forced to take leave, would I have lost my job?”
“Don’t you find chess an interesting game? The way pieces move around the board—the paths they take? Often pawns are discarded for a greater advantage, but once in a great while, with the right ally, a pawn becomes a queen.” I didn’t understand. Perhaps gleaning that from my expression, he laughed. “Susan, you’re a model employee—an INTech masterpiece, really.” He smiled appreciatively. “I’ve been interested in acquiring you for some time. Ambition draws me.
“The reorganizational plan affects all districts,” he continued. I nodded vaguely, flailing in my personal maelstrom. “One of those consolidations involves you. Minnesota is merging with North and South Dakota.” You’ll be running that unit.”
I coughed to hide my amazement. Surely there were more deserving managers, though I’d be a fool to point that out.
“If you don’t deviate from your present course,” he said, “you could easily advance to vice president in the next five years. You’re becoming a very powerful woman.” He once again stared out the window, absently manipulating his pen. “Potentially the first female officer of the company one day.”
I quietly gasped. He was offering me the keys to heaven—the very keys. Riches on the other side in denominations of gold and power, the desire for which I thought I’d buried. But vanity is something rarely buried deeply. Need unfurled inside me like a heavily petalled-flower. I wanted this more than I’d ever realized; I craved these common things.
Earning a vice president slot had been my ultimate goal: the culmination of a lifetime of sacrifice. An officer, though? Mere mortals could only dream of running a multi-gazillion dollar company like INTech. I would grace the cover of Forbes. I would use private jets for travel. I could barely make my features work.
“Budgets are frozen at the moment, but once the culling process is complete, funds will be freed for the raises, bonuses, and the lucrative option packages accompanying your promotion. You’ll be rewarded in ways no other company could offer; none would ever pay you to the extent we will, or value you so highly.” He inclined his head toward me. “We call these ‘the golden handcuffs’: incentives for loyalty.” He absently rubbed his wrist. “I promise you’ll enjoy their feel.”
His stunningly expensive suit, his expansive office, his unguarded arrogance… In a position like his, I could buy Pete a yacht, a massive beach house, anything his heart desired. Though we would inevitably move again, it would be to Philadelphia, the city I loved—one with an excellent school system and a renowned children’s hospital; important things. Further, the promise of substantial financial gain would certainly soften the blow of my increased absences. The problem, I realized quite suddenly, was that Pete didn’t want any of those things; he never had. All he truly desired was for our family to be together—really together.
I heard a faint beep. Frank glanced at his watch. “Work never ends for our kind. You’ll have to excuse me, I have unpleasant meetings to attend.” He shook my hand, his sultry Giorgio cologne swirling around me like silk ribbons. “Congratulations, Susan. Welcome to the club.”
Aleque Nixon, Frank’s supermodel-looking assistant, caught my arm as I stumbled out, dumbfounded. Nearly purring, she held out her hand and smiled reassuringly. “I look forward to working closely with you, Susan.”
“Um…yes, me too,” I replied, confused.
As I ghosted down the hallway, it suddenly occurred to me that unlike Bob’s burdened and painfully disheveled state, Frank didn’t seem the least ruffled by having to fire good employees who’d willingly sacrificed their personal lives to help build this empire. People like me. From a distance, I’d always thought highly of Frank. But up close, I recognized his semblance to Ryan, a man who, faced with a similar directive, was surely hacking away at personnel with a euphoria nearing that of unfettered war. In time, would I become more like Bob or Frank…or, God help me, Ryan? Feeling dizzy suddenly, I braced myself against the wall.
Was I really so self-centered? Did I truly care more about my career than my family? If so, how could Pete even love me? How could he even stand to look at me? Well, based on our little Shakespearean play in the airport, perhaps he’d finally seen through to the real me. Perhaps I had too.
The “culling” to which Frank had eluded was happening in real time. I morbidly wondered which bodies would remain standing at week’s end? In the very conference room where the miracle of promotion had visited me—visited us all, how many seats would be rendered vacant? I couldn’t stomach looking into the sightless eyes of the fallen, knowing I had been spared, that I was stepping onto their limp forms to reach INTech’s next rung, pouring dirt over their mass graves with a golden shovel. I fled in shame.
Flopping into an empty chair like a sulking teenager, angry at my company, my life, myself, I waited for my flight back to Minnesota. Though I should have called Pete, laid it out for him, asked for his blessing, begged for understanding, I didn’t. The crystal certainty of never returning to North Carolina was news I was unprepared to deliver—news that might easily end our marriage. Assuming we still had one. Frank was right, I thought grimly; I was making the “necessary” sacrifices, ripping my family apart for my career, to satisfy my blind ambition, or as Pete had keenly asserted,
to feed my ego.
My flight was on time, and for that I was grateful. Philadelphia had suddenly lost all appeal. A nasally announcement flooded the concourse. Flight 186 to Chicago O’Hare has been delayed due to…
Like magic, the airline’s website popped up on my tablet’s screen.
52
Under Lock and Key
On the shoreline of Lake Michigan, bathed by the same gentle sun as I, a young girl pondered her future, her dreams, who she wanted to be. Like me, she thought she knew everything—so smart, so worldly, so damn full of herself. I snorted. She’d been an innocent lamb: idealistic, self-righteous, and fully unaware of what lay waiting in corporate America’s tall grass. I was not.
She’d envisioned a brilliant life for herself; the potential of it. Her shortsighted dreams had been realized soon afterward when she accepted the proposal of the corporation she’d longed to wed. She was clay to be molded into a rare and unique piece of art—or perhaps, more aptly, a clone: an identical statue spat from a conveyor belt of thousands. I had to admire her, though. She’d pushed aside everything remotely important to her—friendships, a budding romance, family—for the mere fantasy of an unrealized future. She had that day set us on the path I now walked.
I followed her into the campus coffee shop, fully expecting a sense of nostalgia to wash over me. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it had been transformed into a bustling Starbucks. Not one, but three baristas raced to take orders, incrementally quenching the thirst of another corporate giant, another success story. Looking through the bedlam to a former time, I watched as she sat with her friend, Ben, sipping lattes and practicing interview questions. What had ever happened to him, and to my old foe? Sadly, I realized I couldn’t even remember her name.
So much had changed on this campus. The very spirit felt different; the price time demanded. I wondered if Mr. Bellman and his wife still owned the old restaurant in which I’d slaved. I smiled at the thought. They had been so supportive, so kind; a second family. I’d completely lost touch with them as well, their memories burned away by the fever of self-absorption. I felt compelled to find them and ask forgiveness for my transgressions, but this wasn’t the time. In fact, I wasn’t sure this was even real.
Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3) Page 37