Hate to Love

by R. S. Lively

  "A little birdie told me," he says. Then he chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm kidding. You actually come highly recommended, though don't tell anybody I told you that. Your reference wanted to remain anonymous."

  "Who?" I ask.

  Mr. Mills shrugs mischievously, a twinkle in his eye.

  "Alright," I say. "But is that the only reason you called me in for this interview? I was recommended?"

  "Well, obviously there's more to it than that. I'm not going to pretend I don't know you recently worked with Shane Lawson. Everybody in town knows about that, though. That's an extremely impressive qualification, considering the dramatic improvement you were able to make to his public image in such a short time. That's the kind of ability I need on my team."

  His answer makes sense, and the uncertainty I was feeling disappears.

  "Thank you for answering," I say. "I am thrilled to be here, and to interview for this position."

  Mr. Mills laughs as if that’s funniest thing he's heard all day.

  "There's no interview, Julie."

  Shit. This can't seriously be happening again.

  "There's not?" I ask. "But Amelia said –"

  "No, don't misunderstand. Amelia told you over the phone to come in for an interview as a formality. But to be honest, I have no question at all about you working for the firm. So, if you're willing, I will go ahead and say you're hired."

  I want to sign the contract right now, but I still have to broach the subject of the baby. I can't let myself get too invested in this idea until I have talked that through with him.

  "I'm flattered Mr. Mills, and I appreciate the offer more than I can tell you. But there is something I need to discuss with you before we make anything official."

  "Is something wrong?" he asks.

  "Nothing wrong, no. I just feel it's important I tell you that I'm pregnant."

  His expression barely changes.

  "Congratulations!" he exclaims. "A new baby is a wonderful thing."

  "Thank you very much," I say.

  "How far along are you?"

  "I'm due at the end of April," I tell him.

  "Then you'll probably need to go on maternity leave starting… the beginning of March?"

  "The beginning of March?" I ask. "That's a long time before the baby will be here. I don't think I’ll need that much time."

  "Of course, you will. Taking care of yourself at the end of your pregnancy is extremely important. You want to make sure that baby comes into the world with a happy, healthy, rested mama, don't you?"

  "Yes," I say cautiously.

  "Then it's settled. You'll start your maternity leave the first of March and return at the beginning of July. With pay, of course. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

  "It's more than acceptable. It’s amazing. Thank you."

  "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

  "No," I say, shaking my head.

  At this point I feel like I've already gotten away with far more than I would have expected. I'm not going to roll the dice again.

  "Wonderful. Then I can officially say, welcome aboard! I think this is going to be a wonderful arrangement for both of us."

  He extends his hand to me again, and I shake it.

  "So do I," I tell him with a wide smile. "Thank you very much."

  "No, thank you, Julie. I look forward to seeing you in action. Now, let's go meet some of the people you'll be working with."

  We make our way out and down the stairs to the floor directly underneath his. He introduces me to a few other reps as they walk past us in the hall, before stopping in front of a closed private office

  "And this," he says, then takes a dramatic pause, "is yours."

  He opens the door, but I stay put in the hallway.

  "My office?" I ask. "I get my own office?"

  "Of course, you do. I can't put you in a chair in the corner and hope for the best. Why don't you come inside and have a look?"

  I step into the office and am immediately blown away. It's gorgeous. The room is tastefully decorated in cool tones and filled with sparkling light from huge windows on one wall. This is a far cry from snatching old pastries and drinking bitter, day-old coffee at the Water Cooler.

  "It's fantastic," I say.

  "I'm glad you like it. Now, let's go meet Adrienne."

  "Who's Adrienne?" I ask, following him out of the office toward a collection of cubicles in one of the open areas.

  "Your assistant."

  I stop in my tracks. What.

  "My assistant?"

  Mr. Mills turns around. He nods.

  "Yes," he says. "You're going to be too busy with clients to handle everything yourself. I don’t want you to waste your valuable time managing calendars or setting appointments or making coffee runs."

  I don't know how I feel about sending someone else to get coffee. It seems strange. It feels like I'm cheating.

  Two weeks later…

  "I've only been working here for two weeks," I protest.

  "So?" Adrienne asks.

  She holds the keys out to me, a nonchalant expression on her face. I look over at the little black car parked in the spot in front of us. The 'reserved' sign in the front highlights how bizarre this whole situation is.

  "So, people don't get company cars after they've worked somewhere for two weeks. It just doesn't happen. Why would Mr. Mills do this?"

  She shrugs.

  "I really don't know. He told me it was going to be delivered today, gave me the keys, and told me to show it to you when it arrived. You'll have to talk to him."

  "Do you have a car?" I ask.

  "One of my own? Yes. One that the company provided for me? No."

  "How long have you worked here?"

  "Five years."

  What the hell is going here?

  "I'm going to go talk to him."

  I walk back inside and feel my muscles relax in response to the heat embracing my chilled skin. To warm myself up further, I stomp up the stairs rather than take the elevator. Finally, I make it to Mr. Mills’ office, knock once and hear him tell me to come in. As soon as I walk through the door, he grins.

  "Hi, Julie", he says. "How's your day going?"

  "Well, I just got here fifteen minutes ago. So, it's going fairly well. I just have a question to ask you."

  "What can I do for you?"

  "That's kind of the point. You're doing way too much for me."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Adrienne just showed me the company car you arranged for me."

  "That's not a company car," he says. "It's yours."

  "Why would you get me a car? I've only worked here for two weeks. She's been here five years and doesn't have a car. "

  "She’s also your assistant. Adrienne doesn't have the education, background, or responsibilities you do, Julie."

  "I don't think it’s fair, though."

  "That you got a special perk she didn't?"

  I think about this for a second.

  "Yes, actually."

  "Well, I've noticed the car you drive to work is older, and it doesn't seem too reliable. I want you to be able to get to work without worrying. It's really a selfish move, if you think about it."

  "But like I said, it's not just that. You gave me an incredible office, an assistant, and then doubled the maternity leave I expected? I've only been here for two weeks. I don't understand how this is fair to my co-workers."

  "Julie, I admire your dedication to fairness. I appreciate that you want to make sure everyone in the office gets the recognition they deserve. I want to assure you – I approach compensation and rewards for my team on an individual basis. That's why it might look like others aren't receiving the same level of compensation as you. You might not have noticed, but they are rewarded according to performance. Some were awarded a large cash bonus at their contract signing. For you, I opted to go for practical rewards. You are an exceptional asset to this firm, so you deserve your office. That much is ob
vious from the last project you worked on. The car will give you reliable, comfortable transportation both for work, and for when your child arrives.”

  "I planned one event for a client—"

  Mr. Mills puts up a hand to stop me. "And they were extremely pleased with it. You are everything I could have wanted in a new rep, Julie, and I never want you to question that you’re valued here."

  "Thank you," I say. "It really does mean a lot to me."

  "Good. Now have you driven your car, yet?"

  "No. I left the keys with Adrienne."

  Mr. Mills laughs.

  "Then let's go find her and take it for a spin."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Julie

  One month later…

  I stare at my reflection in the glossy red Christmas ball hanging from an artificial tree in front of me. I feel like the warped image pretty well sums up how I'm feeling tonight. Upside down and a little bit swollen.

  Behind me, the company Christmas party is in full swing. Music and laughter trickle out of the large dancehall appropriately decked with holly. Since the doors opened, a steady stream of drinks have flown from the open bar, and several of my coworkers seem to be feeling right jolly with themselves – and each other. I haven’t quite managed to get into the festive spirit, however. I've been hoping this party would help get me excited about the holidays, but it seems like the happier everyone around me gets, the sadder and lonelier I become.

  Deciding I've probably spent enough time communing with fake nature, I turn and head into the party. Maybe I can get lost in the sparkle and effervescence, and some of the joy will rub off on me, much like the glitter that fell off some of the tree ornaments and now adorns the front of my dress. I tell myself that's just the baby getting all dressed up for Christmas. I'm wearing contacts again for the first time in weeks, thinking it might boost my mood, but when I looked in the full-length mirror at home, I was stunned at how much it seemed to exaggerate the bump. It’s grown rapidly over the last couple of weeks, but it wasn't until I looked in the mirror with my contacts that I noticed just how much bigger it was. It made me realize how very real this is.

  And that I need to see the eye doctor for a new glasses prescription.

  The cup of ginger ale spiked with cranberry juice in my hand puts me a bit more into a party mood, but not enough to join in the drunken festivities beneath the mistletoe. I look around the rest of the room, and I’m startled to see an old-fashioned train car in the back corner. I approach it slowly, taking in the dull green paint, strands of shimmering icicle tinsel, and fragrant holly and evergreen. As I get closer, I realize there are actual jingle bells attached to the sides. But it's the fact that it’s a train car really caught my attention. What are the chances of going to two parties in my lifetime that have train cars randomly integrated into the theme?

  Is it possible the same party planner organized both events?

  Once I compare my experience at the party in Pennsylvania to this ordinary work event, it’s pretty clear that isn’t the case. I run my fingertips along the side of the train car. Trains do frequently show up in Christmas decorations – so it's not too outlandish to think Mr. Mills might randomly throw one in. It seems to fit his personality, although his sparkle and whimsy has somewhat lessened in the last few weeks. I walk around the side and find a door like the one at the first party. I climb up on the step, noticing that the holes in the metal are covered, so my heel can’t get stuck again. As I dip into the car, I immediately realize I'm not alone.

  "Merry Christmas," Shane says.

  I'm so startled, I have to sit down.

  "Shane.”

  It's more of a gasp than his name, but I can't get my voice under control. He's wearing a black suit with a cream shirt and slick black tie beneath, and diamond cufflinks at his wrists. The gold tint of his skin is slightly paler now that we're in the winter months, but his blue eyes are just as rich and shimmering. The smile on his lips makes my heart flutter, and my hand instinctively goes to Bump.

  "Look at you," he says, reaching out to run his hand on my belly.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask.

  "Why wouldn't I be here?" he asks. "I threw this party."

  "You?" I ask. "I thought Mr. Mills threw this party. Why would you throw a Christmas party for a PR firm in a state you don't even live in anymore? Did one of the reps here used to represent you?"

  He grins a little bigger.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, one did. You."

  "I don't understand," I say. "What's going on?"

  Shane turns his body toward me and takes both of my hands in his. He looks into my eyes, and I feel myself tremble slightly.

  "You said you wanted to be independent and not rely on me financially," he says. "So, I made this opportunity happen for you."

  It takes a few seconds of thinking through what he said to really understand it. I feel the color drain from my face and stinging heat prick the back of my neck.

  "You did this," I say. "You did all of this."

  "Yes," he says, nodding.

  I tear my hands away from his.

  "Oh my god. All of it," I moan. "The job, the car, everything."

  He nods again.

  "When I heard you didn't actually have a job here, I knew how much it must be hurting you. I figured this must be the place you applied to before you moved to Pennsylvania. I wanted to try to help you in some way, so I got in touch with Mr. Mills. It turns out he's a big fan."

  "Of you," I'm assuming.

  "Yes."

  "You! You're the little birdie who told him what a good job I was doing and recommended me highly. No wonder he didn't want to tell me who you were. So, what? You just walked in here and bartered for me? You'd pay attention to him and make him feel like one of the guys, if he'd give me a job? And what about the maternity leave and the car, and all the other perks? Did you make that happen too?"

  The smile has left Shane's face, and he looks confused.

  "I thought this is what you wanted," he says. "I thought you'd be happy."

  "You thought I'd be happy?" I ask incredulously. "You seriously thought it would make me happy for you to go behind my back and have somebody give me a job as a favor to you?"

  "You said you wanted a job."

  "No, I said I wanted to be independent. I wanted to stand on my own two feet. That's what I meant. I didn't mean I wanted to look like I was standing on my own two feet, or that I wanted you to get me a job. If I wanted you to buy me a car and pay my salary, I would have just let you take care of me in the first place. How could you do this to me?"

  "What do you mean how could I do this to you? I was trying to help you. I thought I was giving you a chance at the life you wanted. I thought it would make you realize how much I care about you. I love you, Julie. I know you didn't want to hear it before, so I was hoping I could make you feel it."

  Tears sting my eyes and my heart aches from the twisted, tearing emotions inside. I want to throw myself into his arms and hold him to me, to hear him tell me again that he loves me. But I also want to scream at him and run as far away as I possibly can.

  "You know what I feel, Shane?"

  "What?"

  "I feel manipulated. Humiliated. I feel like a fool. And I feel like right now, I don't want anything to do with you."

  Forcing the tears to stay in my eyes so he won’t see them fall, I climb out of the train car and rush back through the party. They're freely rolling down my cheeks by the time I see Mr. Mills in the hallway. He smiles at me as I walk up to him, but I don't react. Instead, I walk directly up to him.

  "Thank you for your kindness during these last few months. Even though I know now it was all fake, I do appreciate the extent you went to make me feel welcome. I only wish you hadn't lied to me. I won't be coming back after the holidays. Merry Christmas."

  Before he can say anything, I turn and rush out of the building. My car sits in its usual spot in the parking lot, and I almost don't wan
t anything to do with it. When I remember that Shane paid for it and probably put it in my name, I get behind the wheel and drive home. It’s my car, and I can use it. Even my tears and my blurred, overwhelmed mind won't stop me from driving the familiar route. I’m more thankful to be home now than ever.

  January

  "It's good to hear your voice, Julie."

  Curled in my father's chair, I'm so shocked to hear Mr. Slidell on the other line that I can't speak.

  "Julie?" he asks. "Are you there?"

  "I'm sorry. Yes, I'm here. It's good to hear from you, Mr. Slidell. I hope you had a happy holiday season."

  "I did. Thank you."

  It's a conversation that should be comfortable, but it feels oddly tense.

  "Is there something I can do for you?" I ask after a few awkward seconds.

  "Actually, yes. It's about Shane."

  I swallow hard. What did he do now? I haven't heard anything about him in the news recently, but that doesn't mean some scandal isn’t brewing behind the scenes. He could have totally undone everything we accomplished together and be on the brink of total implosion by now.

  "What about Shane?" I ask. "Is something wrong?"

  Mr. Slidell laughs.

  "Quite the opposite, actually," he says. "You did an exceptional job with him, Julie. Dozens of companies are scrambling to get him to be their spokesman and offer endorsements. We have new clients piling up. It's more than we can handle."

  "That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you."

  "I am, too," he says with another laugh. "But, frankly, I'm also a little overwhelmed. We're not used to this much work. I'm calling to ask for help."

  "You want my help?" I ask, stunned.

  "Yes. Is there any way I could get you to come back? I know you said you were going back home for another opportunity, and I've heard you're pregnant. Congratulations."

  Awkward.

  "Thank you. Both for the congratulations and the offer. To tell you the truth, the opportunity I came here for fell through."

  "So, you'll come back?" he asks hopefully.

  "Can I have a few days to think about it?"