Bands of Gold
Angela Benson
Copyright © 1994, 2016 by Angela Benson
First published by Kensington, 1994
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http://www.angelabenson.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the Author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for purchasing Bands of Gold, my first book. Christina and Jackson’s story has a special place in my heart and it is with pleasure that I share it with you. I still remember the excitement I felt when I got the call from Monica Harris, editor at Kensington, saying that she wanted to buy it. Since the story was first published in 1994, I was tempted to update it for this re-issue. Instead, I decided to honor the story by not doing a major revision. I do hope you enjoy it.
Angela Benson
Table of Contents
Other Titles by Angela Benson
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
About the Author
Other Titles by Angela Benson
Other Titles by Angela Benson
Sweet Passion Contemporary Romance Series
Friend and Lover
The Nicest Guy in America
The Way Home
Bands of Gold
For All Time
Between the Lines
Single Title Inspirational Family Drama
The Summer of Me
Delilah’s Daughters
Sins of the Father
Up Pops the Devil
Genesis House Inspirational Romance & Family Drama
Awakening Mercy, Book 1
Abiding Hope, Book 2
The Amen Sisters, Book 3
Enduring Love, Book 4 (coming soon)
Nonfiction
Men Don’t Like Ugly, Women Don’t Like Broke: What Women Need to Know about Love, Money and Relationships
Telling Your Tale: A Beginner’s Guide to Writing Fiction for Print and eBook
One
“They’re pressuring me to change my mind.” Christina sat in her office on the forty-first floor of Boston’s John Hancock Towers, twirling the cord of the telephone handset as she spoke.
“Don’t let them decide for you. It’s your life.”
“I know, Mom, but they have some good points. Maybe I should reconsider.” Christina wrapped the telephone cord around her lower arm.
“Look, Christina,” Louise began. “This is your mama talking.”
Christina smiled. She knew what was coming.
“I’ve known you a lot longer than those people you work with and I’m telling you to do what you think is right. Go with your instincts. You know what I want, but it’s not my decision. You do what’s best for you. I’m with you either way. Got that?”
“I’ve got it,” Christina answered. “Have I told you lately that you’re a great mom?”
“You have, but I never get tired of hearing it,” Louise replied.
“You’re the greatest, Mom. Really.” As Christina unwrapped the phone cord from her arm, she looked at her watch. Standing up, she said, “I have to hang up now. Walter’s waiting. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it, but good luck. Let me know how things turn out.”
“Okay, Mom,” Christina agreed. She hung up the phone and walked out of her office.
Since her promotion to senior engineer in charge of new accounts, Christina had made the walk to Walter’s office many times. Walter loved to talk; at least, he loved talking to her. He had become her self-appointed mentor, and he always wanted to know what she was doing. He had been a lot of help when she was first promoted and she appreciated that, but sometimes she felt that Walter went overboard in his concern.
“I don’t want you to go,” Walter began, as soon as she entered his office.
“I know, Walter, and I’m glad that you like having me around, but I have to go,” Christina responded. She sat in the visitor’s chair closest to his massive oak desk.
“No, you don’t have to leave. You can stay here.”
“We’ve been through this before. I’m going.”
Trying another tactic, he asked, “What will it take to make you stay?”
“It’s not about the money. You know that,” she answered, shaking her head.
“I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about Optima.” Christina leaned forward slightly in her chair. She had heard about Optima. The high-visibility project could skyrocket the career of some lucky manager. “What about Optima?”
Walter got up and walked around his desk. After he perched on the edge facing her, he said, “The board has agreed that Optima is yours if you stay.”
Christina blinked twice. “You can’t be serious. That would be a two-step promotion for me. That’s unheard of at Communications Limited.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Walter took her hand in his. “We want to keep you here, Christina.”
Christina withdrew her hand. “You make it sound as though I’m defecting to an enemy camp. I’m only transferring to the Atlanta office.”
“Going to Atlanta is almost as bad as defection,” Walter said, a smirk on his face.
“It is not. How can you say that?” Christina stood and walked towards the wall of windows that faced Copley Square. She saw specks of milling bodies that looked more like ants than people.
Walter spoke to her back. “You know you’ve done good work—no, outstanding work—in the seven years you’ve been here. Some people, me included, are looking for you to occupy a VP seat some day. The quickest way to that seat is to stay in Boston. Atlanta may as well be another company.”
Christina turned to face him. “I know what you’re saying is true.” It was common knowledge that she was on the fast track at CL. She had showcased her leadership abilities and technical expertise on three high-profile projects. Things were going according to plan . . .maybe even better than planned. “Optima could get me the VP seat a few years early, but Atlanta is something that I have to do.”
“You’re allowed to change your mind, you know.” Walter shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “One phone call and Optima is yours.”
“Walter—”
He interrupted, “Which do you want, Christina, a direct path to a vice presidency, or a detour to Atlanta?”
***
Fifty-four-year-old Walter Thomas sat facing the windows, looking out but not seeing anything. He had been at Communications Limited, affectionately called CL by its employees, for some twenty-five years. When he had started, CL was a small, start-up operation. Today, it was a multibillion-dollar business with offices in twenty major cities across the country. Boston was its headquarters, and headquarters was where things happened. Why couldn’t he get Christina to see th
at? He knew that he hadn’t changed her mind. She still planned to go to Atlanta.
Young people, he thought. You couldn’t reason with them when they got their minds set. What was Christina thinking? Didn’t she see the opportunity before her? Most engineers in her position would trade their right arm for a shot at Optima.
Walter knew his reaction to Christina’s planned move was as much personal as it was professional. He had watched her mature into a fine engineer. She reminded him of himself at her age. Because he considered her his protégé, he couldn’t let her make the move to Atlanta, a move that could effectively stall her career.
“If I can’t convince her to stay, I know someone who can,” he said aloud. He turned around in his chair and dialed Rosalind’s number.
***
Christina arrived at Mr. Chen’s Restaurant a few minutes late. She knew that Rosalind Jones would already be there. She gave the maître d’ her name and followed him to Rosalind’s table. Though she had been in the restaurant more times than she could count, she still felt awkward during the walk to the table. The back lacquered walls, the fresh flower arrangements, the tuxedoed waiters and the spotlight-studded ceiling made a perfect picture. Too perfect. She always got the feeling that her slip was showing and that everyone noticed. Never had her slip showed, yet each time she came to this restaurant she felt the same way. It was one of her little insecurities.
Rosalind looked up and saw her. Christina smiled. Rosalind Jones and Walter Thomas were old friends. They began their careers at CL around the same time and had achieved comparable levels of success. Both were vice presidents. Rosalind’s rise to that post occurred before the Women’s Movement, before the age of women “having it all.” Rosalind had a job, a career, but she didn’t have a husband or children.
As soon as the maître d’ seated her, Christina began, “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a casual lunch?”
Rosalind laughed. “You’re right, it’s not. Walter has assigned me to the ‘Christina project.’ My job is to make you see the error of your ways and stay here in Boston.”
Christina frowned. “I knew Walter had a hand in this.” She was getting tired of explaining herself. “I’m hungry, so let’s order before you get started.”
“Fair enough,” Rosalind consented.
After the women quickly placed their orders, Rosalind asked, “Why are you so hell-bent on going to Atlanta?”
Christina picked up her napkin and placed it in her lap. “As I told Walter, it’s time. I’ve always wanted to move south. I grew up in Alabama and I went to college in Atlanta. I’m ready to go back.”
“That’s a strictly personal reason, Christina. Don’t you see that it would be better for your career if you stayed here with Optima?”
Christina rearranged her napkin in her lap. She was determined not to get upset. “I agree that Optima is a great project, but Orion has its good points as well.” Orion was the primary software project assigned to the Atlanta staff.
“How can you say that? Orion is in chaos. The Board just ousted Paul Bechtel. The guy practically ruined that project. Why do you want to step into the middle of that? Optima is fresh, new. It would be yours from day one.”
“I don’t share your view of Orion, Rosalind. I consider it a challenge. I’ve been putting together a plan to turn the project around. It can still be successful for CL. I can make it successful.”
“I don’t doubt your ability at all, but I wonder at your judgment. Why do you want to go with Orion, whose chances of success are slim, when you can have Optima, whose chances of success are great? The real question, Christina, is which you want more—a move to Atlanta, or a shot at the vice presidency?”
Christina sat back in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap. “I didn’t know they were mutually exclusive. Are they?”
“All the data indicate your best bet is to stay here in Boston. You know the saying, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’ Atlanta is definitely out of sight.”
The arrival of their food interrupted the conversation. As soon as the waiter left, Christina leaned forward and placed her hands palms down on the table. “Listen, Rosalind, I appreciate what you and Walter are trying to do, but I know what I want.”
Rosalind shook her head. “I hope you do, Christina, because I’d hate to see you throw away your career.”
***
Christina pondered Rosalind’s and Walter’s comments as she did the dinner dishes later that night. When she finished, she turned off the lights in the kitchen and went to her bedroom. She sat down on the side of the bed and removed a small, black leather notebook from her nightstand. Turning to the page entitled “Personal Goals,” she began to read.
A few minutes later, she picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. No answer. She hung up and dialed another number.
“Marshall’s Nursery,” her mother answered. “Louise Marshall speaking. How may I help you today?”
“Mom, it’s me.” Christina still held the black leather notebook.
“Christina, how are you, honey?”
“Great, Mom,” Christian answered. She placed the notebook back in the nightstand. “I know what I’m going to do.”
One year later
Christina and her mother arrived at Boston’s Four Seasons Hotel for the Communications Limited Annual Awards Ceremony at seven o’clock. Since Christina was the guest of honor, she and Louise sat at the head table.
As soon as dessert was served, Walter moved to the podium. The tinkling of fork against glass got everyone’s attention and he began. “This evening we’re honoring one of our own, Christina Marshall. She’s being honored for her work on Orion. This time last year few of us were optimistic about the success of Orion. Gross mismanagement had the project behind schedule and out of focus. Christina changed all of that. Her success is no surprise. Stellar performance has marked each of her eight years here at CL, from her first assignment as associate engineer, to her job as project engineer, then senior engineer, and now managing engineer for Orion.” He turned to Christina. “Ladies and gentlemen, Christina Marshall.”
Christina made the short walk to the podium amid a swell of applause. She wondered again at her wisdom in wearing the form-fitting blue sequined gown. Her first thought had been that it hugged her full breasts a bit too snugly, but her mother had convinced her that that wasn’t the case. Now, making the trip to the podium, she was unsure again. Maybe the dress was too tight. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn her hair up, exposing her long neck and smooth shoulders. Maybe . . .
Christina shook off the negative thoughts. She held her head high and stood tall, naked shoulders and long neck be damned. Tonight was her night and she was going to enjoy it.
She viewed the award as confirmation of her instincts. She’d been right to go to Atlanta. It had been a tough year, but all the hard work had paid off. The success of Orion had put her back on the fast track.
“Thank you, Walter.” She tilted her head in his direction before turning to the audience. “And thanks to the board for this recognition. I share it with my staff in Atlanta. They worked tirelessly for the past year and the success of Orion is the result. We in Atlanta accept this award as a symbol of the faith that CL has in our operation. We will continue to serve CL with the professionalism and excellence that inspired this award. Thank you.”
Another round of applause followed as Christina returned to her seat.
Rosalind took the podium next. “It’s no secret that some of us were convinced that Christina shouldn’t take the Orion position. We thought Optima was the better project for her. Though she proved us wrong on the first point, we still think that she’s the best person for Optima. So, effective the first of next month, Christina Marshall is the new district manager for Optima.”
Louise smiled at Christina and squeezed her hand with joy. “I knew you’d make the right decision. Now you have Optima and Atlanta. You have everything you wanted.”
Christina returned pressure to her mother’s hand. “Yes, Mom, everything I wanted.” Even as she spoke the words, Christina knew they weren’t true. She didn’t have everything she wanted. Not yet.
Two
Christina looked at the clock on the microwave above the oven. Good timing. It was almost seven. Liza should be arriving any minute now, she thought, as she put her special green bean casserole in the oven.
It had been several years since she’d seen her old friend. She sighed over the fact that it had taken Optima to bring them back together. She had her fingers crossed that Liza would take the job as one of her project managers. It would be good to have a girlfriend again. As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
“It’s so good to see you again, Liza. Has it really been three years?” Christina asked, after they had shared hugs.
“Three long years,” Liza said. “The last time we saw each other was the night we celebrated our promotions to senior engineer.”
“Yes,” Christina said. “A combination celebration and going-away party.”
“You were lucky. You got to stay in Boston, but I had to move to Forth Worth.”
“At the time, I didn’t see myself as the lucky one. I would have given anything for a move back south.”
“Yeah,” Liza said. “And look what happened when you did move south. Congrats again on your promotion to district manager and your success with Orion. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the banquet.”
Christina waved her hands to dismiss Liza’s apology. “Don’t even think about it. You sent a card. I understand. Now tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Christina led Liza to the family room, where they seated themselves on identical facing blue leather couches. They began to catch up on all that had happened while they’d been apart.
“You’re getting married!” Christina practically shrieked at her friend’s news. “I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. When did this happen?”
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