She looked at the results: two partially filled cardboard boxes; pathetically little after twenty years.
Looking at her watch, she realized Joe would be back in a few minutes. Should she call her staff? As their manager, shouldn’t she at least check on them? Deciding they were probably in as much shock as she was, she grabbed her emergency contact list out of her drawer instead. It contained the home phone numbers for her team of five women and three men. She hesitated for a moment, considering how this would impact each of them.
“Stop!” she insisted. The thought of them right now was a surefire way to end up with a salty puddle on the carpet squares at her feet. She would figure out how to reach them and be sure they were all right later, once everyone came to terms with this.
Joe again rapped lightly on her now closed door.
Shit, Renee thought, might as well get this over with.
She strode over to open the door. “Come on in, Joe, I’m finished here.”
Joe appeared even less composed than earlier.
“Is everything all right?” Renee asked him.
“Actually, no,” Joe said. “It’s so hard to see all of you being let go like this. I feel terrible, collecting keys and kicking you out of the building by a certain time.”
Maybe you should follow me out the door, Renee thought, before you give up the next twenty years of your life to this place, too.
“Wait,” Renee said, “did you say ‘all of you’? Are there others here in this building? I was thinking I might be the only one, locally.”
“No, you aren’t the only one. You’re one of several in this building. I’m glad I don’t work over at the main complex. There are a couple hundred over there receiving notice today.”
“Oh my God,” Renee gasped, “I had no idea. Those numbers are big enough to hit the press. I haven’t called anyone to let them know yet . . . I don’t want them to hear it on the six o’clock news.”
“Don’t worry, I think they’ve kept this under the radar, at least for now. I haven’t heard talk of any media inquiries yet. But you are right, it probably will get out pretty quickly.” Then, somewhat sheepishly, “Could I . . . could I have your keys and . . . other effects?”
It was time to go. She pulled out her ring of work keys and her access card and dropped them on her desk. Next she removed the remote-access fob from an inside pocket of her purse.
No more signing in from home in the evening, she thought. This was the first positive thought to cross her mind since Samantha’s statement.
“Anything else you can think of, Joe?” she asked.
“Nah,” he said quietly. “If you forgot anything, you can send it to us. Do you need any help with these boxes?”
“You know, Joe, I appreciate the offer, but I can handle these without any trouble.” Renee smiled at him. She was able to leave, but poor Joe would stick around and escort others out when he was done with her. She could tell his heart wasn’t in it. While this was an obvious eye-opener for her, she hoped it served a similar purpose for Joe and all the other younger employees.
“Just hold the door for me, and I will call it a day,” she said.
Pulling on her winter jacket, she threw her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her two boxes. She spared a glance at a small planter filled with near-dead violets on the corner of her desk. It wasn’t looking like the little plant would survive until Christmas; a quick trip out to her Toyota, through the frigid December air, would probably finish it off. And seeing the pretty little pink vase later would bring this ugly day back. She knew this would be a day she would want to block from her memory.
“Help yourself to my plant if you like, Joe,” she offered as she juggled her armload of mementoes out the door.
Eyes straight ahead, she shot toward the elevator. Off to her right she could just hear muffled crying. She absolutely did not want to encounter one soul on her way out. Since it was shortly after 1:00, she hoped everyone would be back at their desks by now, returned from lunch. There was a good chance people had heard what happened and would be as anxious as she was to avoid having to exchange words with anyone.
Renee managed to make it down the elevator and out the front door alone. As she stepped through the heavy rotating door, wind stole her breath and her eyes stung, watering from the cold. Her tears froze almost immediately. Nothing like a brisk winter gale to clear the senses.
Renee shifted the bundle in her arms and started the two-block trek to the parking garage. Normally she would have taken the skyway to avoid the elements, but she feared her new, unemployed status would be too obvious if she walked through the halls with her boxes. Might as well sob with abandon in that case.
Damn, why did I have to wear heels today? At least the sidewalks were clear of ice. The air felt too cold for snow.
Renee made it to her SUV, feet sore and arms tired. She beeped open the back hatch and dumped her boxes with relief. Slamming it shut, she climbed behind the wheel. She let her forehead fall to the steering wheel and let out a heavy sigh as she turned the key. Cold air blasted from the defroster, still set on high from her bitter morning commute. Music blared. She snapped the dial off, welcoming a moment of peace and quiet.
“What am I going to do now?” Renee asked out loud, glancing at the glowing digits on the dashboard as she slowly exited the ramp. Robbie wouldn’t be done with practice until 4:30. She hadn’t started her holiday shopping, but the thought of a loud, crowded mall was just too much. A quiet place to gather her thoughts before facing the kids, that would be better. Hopefully news of company layoffs wouldn’t reach them before she could tell them herself. She merged onto the interstate and headed toward Maple Grove so she would be closer to Robbie’s school when the afternoon wound down.
Driving aimlessly now, her mind churned over the day’s happenings; she was still trying to process the news, so she decided it would be best to get off the road and grab a cup of coffee. She needed to think through her options. A blank journal was in one of the boxes behind her—an early Christmas gift from a co-worker.
Renee always felt better if she could brainstorm in writing.
***
Warm air surrounded her, filled with the rich aroma of ground coffee beans and a hint of peppermint, as she entered a small coffee shop. She ordered a hot dark espresso and settled into an armchair strategically placed by a cozy fire.
As she was digging through her purse for a pen, her cell phone vibrated once. The screen read “Mom” and a text came through: Call me when you have time.
She cringed a bit. How did her mother always know when she needed her? Renee dropped the phone back into the depths of her purse. She would call her later, when she felt she “had time.”
She opened her new journal and held her pen poised above the creamy white page. She sat there. Where to start? All she could think was “Now what?” Taking a shaky breath, she decided to let the pen flow. She started jotting down anything that came to mind.
She scribbled. Confusion and fear topped the list. What was she without her J.O.B. to give her definition? Sure, she was a mother, but her kids were getting older; they seemed to need her more for a financial contribution than anything else these days. She hadn’t been a wife to anyone in a long time and wasn’t even currently anyone’s “significant other.” She was a daughter, friend, sister, aunt . . . but so were most of the other women in this city. What was she now? Unemployed. She grimaced at the thought. She sighed—this wasn’t a productive vein to follow.
Renee titled the top of a new page “Things I Love to Do” and underlined it. A quote came back to her as she contemplated where to start with her list. Someone once told her if you love what you do, you will never work another day in your life. A phenomenon she had not yet been lucky enough to experience. Her work could have been described as busy and hectic, certainly, but seldom peaceful or uplifting.
She pulled her mind back to her writing. Focus, focus. Items she noted that brought her joy included spending ti
me with her family, coffee or lunch with girlfriends, reading, time outdoors, and the occasional auction. Her list grew and she flipped the page. This was kind of fun, focusing on things she loved to do.
Next she decided to get a little more practical. On the top of the next page, she wrote “Items Needing Immediate Attention.” She needed to review her severance package, make sure they would have insurance coverage, update financial records, and determine how much was in her savings account. A few holiday “to do” items made the list, too.
She thought her severance package would give her almost one year of pay—a relatively generous policy. Her years of service would earn her significantly more on the way out the door than the generic plaque she’d originally received for her anniversary. How ironic.
She hadn’t allowed herself to think too much about the financial implications of her layoff up to this point. Despite all her fears and uncertainties, she was smart enough to recognize how lucky she was to have any type of severance package. Unfortunately, these days most people were left with no safety net when jobs were cut.
One of her first orders of business would be to figure out how she could stretch her severance dollars as far as possible, if need be. She needed an updated resume, but few companies would even talk to her before the first of the year. No one was interested in bringing on new employees before the holidays. She gave herself permission to not think about looking for a new job until January.
Her hand was starting to cramp, and Renee realized another hour had slipped by. Snowflakes drifted by the window. She’d need to pick up Robbie soon. Should she tell him what happened right away, or should she wait? She’d tell the kids together, during dinner tonight. It would be easier to go through the story once.
She gathered her purse and pushed out of the comfortable chair in front of the fire more than a bit reluctantly. She noticed a $20 bill fall to the floor when she pulled her gloves out of her coat pocket. She scooped it up. I’m going to have to be much more careful with my money now, she realized. There would no longer be a steady stream coming in, at least for a while—a short while, hopefully.
As she exited the coffee shop, bells rang in the crisp air. To her right was a common sight of Christmas: a volunteer huddled near the red Salvation Army kettle, giving his bell a hearty shake, waving to her with the other hand.
Probably trying to keep his hands warm, Renee thought as she shivered in the growing dusk.
The $20 bill was still clasped in her hand. She suddenly felt compelled to drop the money in the kettle. Normally she would throw in a few loose coins, but today was not a “normal” day. She crunched through new snow on the sidewalk and quickly stuffed the bill into the kettle before she could talk herself out of it. The volunteer paused to smile brightly at Renee. Renee could now see it wasn’t a man but a woman, probably in her eighties, braving the cold to gather funds for the needy.
“Bless you, my dear,” the woman crooned. “May you have a wonderful Christmas and may the New Year be filled with abundance and opportunities for you.” Then, with a quick wink, the woman turned away to thank another customer who dropped a few noisy coins into the bucket.
Walking back to her vehicle, Renee felt warmed by the woman’s smile and sentiment. She made a promise to herself to follow the woman’s example and focus more on others. Besides, she needed a distraction from her own troubles.
Chapter 3
Gift of Wine and Reflection
Renee picked Robbie up from practice. She was never sure which Robbie would show up when picking him up. Would he be the bright, animated boy who loved to visit and share the day’s events, or would he be the surly young man, willing to share nothing more than grunts when asked about his day? Renee knew this was normal for a teenager.
She was relieved when a happy Robbie plopped into her front seat. Hot and sweaty from his workout, Robbie talked all the way home about the “butt-kicking” he gave to Brent and Joel at practice. Renee didn’t have to do anything more than offer a few words of encouragement to keep him talking. It never crossed Robbie’s mind to ask about her day, thankfully, so there was no need to sidestep any issues. She could keep her secret a while longer.
She pulled into their snowy drive and cringed at the crunch sound beneath the tires; she knew she shouldn’t drive over the newly fallen snow and pack it down before they could clear it, but she wasn’t in the mood to shovel or to cut off Robbie’s stream of conversation. She would ask him to do it later, and she wouldn’t criticize him when he couldn’t get the tracks cleared.
Years of habit allowed them to navigate the dark garage, Robbie still sharing tales of his exploits. Two things hit them at once when Renee opened the kitchen door: the warm, homey smell of a roast, and a barking bundle of energy which immediately jumped up on both of them.
“I’ll take Molly out,” Robbie offered, “I have to call Brent and see if he wants to go to a movie Friday,” and with that, boy and cocker spaniel both went back out through the garage, kitchen door slamming behind them.
Renee could already hear Robbie on his cell, talking to Brent. At least he was actually talking to a friend, not texting. Texting was the main form of communication for her kids these days. Maybe Mom thinks the same thing about me, Renee thought, suddenly remembering the text she got from her mother earlier.
Relieved to be home, Renee kicked off her shoes. She tossed her briefcase and purse on the counter and headed straight to her room to change. Her kids didn’t care what she wore at home, and tonight she needed comfort. She would deal with the boxes from her office later—and she still needed to tell the kids what happened.
Times like this I wish I weren’t a single parent.
It was too soon to know what impact, if any, her layoff would have on Julie and Robbie. Hopefully she would be able to insulate them from hurt as much as possible. She dreaded the upcoming conversation. They were in an expensive period of their lives with college, cars, and insurance for teen drivers. Renee had some savings but planned to take out loans for the bigger ticket items and pay them off out of her salary. Not a good plan. Now what? Shaking her head, she headed back to the kitchen.
Robbie was still outside with the dog. She could hear him telling Molly to hurry up. No sign of Julie yet. In an uncharacteristic move, Renee grabbed a wine glass from a high cupboard and blew dust off the crystal. The goblets were a wedding gift; price stickers still stubbornly attached to a few gave testament to how little she used them. She pulled an equally dusty wine bottle down from above the cupboard. No better time to put the decoration to better use than today—she needed something to soothe her nerves, and alcohol was as good as anything. She found a corkscrew in the jumbled utensil drawer and freed the cork.
Renee took a deep pull of the warm red wine. She grimaced; she’d always preferred a cool white over the heavier red. Placing the bottle on the counter, she turned on a small television and she started peeling potatoes. Mashed potatoes were the required side dish to a roast, especially on Julie’s first night home from college.
She turned the set off when she finished peeling—the nightly news had made no mention of job cuts.
She turned on the outside Christmas lights and then flipped a switch on the living room wall to set the room aglow. A large tree in the corner was covered in white lights. Her small village in the front window looked like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. Renee loved to decorate for Christmas. This was the first year Julie wasn’t home to help, so it took her twice as long, the weekend after Thanksgiving, to get all the decorations down from storage and up in a way she knew Julie would love. Robbie didn’t say much about the decorations, but Renee knew he would miss them if they weren’t up.
With nothing more to be done before dinner, Renee settled onto the couch with her glass of wine and let the twinkling lights mesmerize her. Her mind wandered back to earlier Christmases in this house. Years ago, the four of them would pile into a pickup and drive an hour and a half north to a tree farm. They drove up
and down the rows in search of the perfect tree, sipping hot chocolate out of a thermos. They would stop and walk out to a tree spotted by the kids, only to realize it was not one but two stories tall and wouldn’t possibly fit in the living room. Back they would pile and continue their search. It would make for a long but memorable day by the time a tree was actually up in the corner of their living room.
As years passed and family dynamics changed, tree-cutting trips faded away. Now their tree could be assembled in half an hour and never needed water. While Renee appreciated the practical aspects of it, she missed the adventure.
Each of the tiny, New England–style cottages and businesses displayed in their bay window were given to her as a gift throughout the years. All brought back memories. Each box designed to store the tiny buildings eleven months of the year bore a note listing the giver’s name and the occasion behind each gift. One special box, containing a quaint little bookstore, was marked with an outline of Julie’s and Robbie’s small hands. Her husband had given this to her as an early Christmas present during the last holiday season they all shared.
Staring at the miniature community she’d created, her mind wandered further back, to when she was a child. Christmas Eve always brought the same routine. After lunch, Renee, her brother, two sisters and parents would pile into the car with gifts and their dog. They would make a sometimes-white-knuckle drive across icy highways to her aunt’s home. Renee’s grandmother and her aunt Celia would step out onto Celia’s front porch to greet family arrivals. If they were lucky enough to be the first to arrive, they would have first pick of the cookies, before Renee’s cousins got there and devoured her favorites, the ones with the chocolate stars on top.
Whispering Pines (Celia's Gifts Book 1) Page 2