Underwater

by McDermott, Julia

  In the first paragraph, he outlined in dramatic detail another emergency rush to the doctor this morning. Evidently, Helen was prone to bleeding during her pregnancy, but this second episode was another false alarm; a sonogram revealed that the babies were fine. Perhaps all women carrying twins were more likely to experience spotting. Having never been pregnant, Candace had no idea.

  In the second, shorter paragraph, Monty announced that both of the babies were boys. Of course, he and Helen were thrilled and “couldn’t wait to share the news.” Apparently, they could wait to share the specific financial information Candace had just had David request again in writing.

  She dismissed her frustrations for the moment and refocused her attention to more urgent company issues. She needed to make a decision about whether to ratify Darlene’s position that no advertising was necessary to promote the new swimsuit line. The company had never engaged in advertising, print or otherwise, but in recent years a presence on social media had been key. Darlene was in charge of the marketing team under Amanda’s sales and marketing division and had proven her worth as a valuable employee. She was in charge of the website, Facebook page, Twitter account, and all public relations. In Darlene’s opinion, any money spent to promote the new swimwear line in magazines or other print media would be a waste of money and utterly unnecessary.

  Amanda held a different view. With years of retail sales experience and a traditional professional background, she was probably the most old-school employee in the company. She had worked in Texas and California before moving to Atlanta to join SlimZ. Candace felt she understood Amanda professionally, but on a personal level she had little in common with the woman.

  Amanda was in her late forties and was divorced with a teenage daughter. She dyed her longish hair a peroxide-ish shade of blonde, tanned excessively, and often displayed a muffin top above too-tight pants. More than once, Candace had seen her with camel toe. Amanda was a former smoker and was on the slim side but not fit. An array of cigarette wrinkles fanned out from her hard, thin lips that she coated in red lipstick. But she was a hard worker, focused on results, and very confident. She was also blunt, which was both a good and bad quality.

  Today, it hadn’t been good. Whenever friction surfaced between Amanda and Darlene, Candace felt annoyed. The underlying tension between the two women had been a problem for some time, and today’s meeting seemed to showcase their differences. Candace wished they and all her employees could work together more like men did: once men resolved a conflict, a clear winner emerged and all parties continued to show professional respect for each other.

  With women, it was different, and being a woman, Candace understood that. But that didn’t make dealing with personnel and management issues any easier. Candace hadn’t created her company to be a referee or to tap-dance around people’s feelings. She glanced out the window, then began composing an email to both women. She would back Darlene’s opinion.

  At thirty-six, Darlene was closer to Candace’s age than Amanda was. Darlene was from Atlanta, had married young, and had a middle-school-age son; her husband was an engineer. She was tall with a proportional figure, dark hair, and a pale complexion, as if she regularly wore sunscreen. Her professional wardrobe was more conservative than sexy, with a not-trying-too-hard French touch. She wore attractive high heels and scarves of all lengths in an unconscious, effortless manner. Her thoughtfulness and poise perfectly reflected the company image Candace had worked hard to construct. Darlene’s group had jumped on a social media marketing plan after Shelly’s very astute product development team had come up with the SwimZ tech pac (technical package, or actual samples of the new line, complete with patterns, fabrics, and size specifications).

  Shelly’s people had worked closely with the designers, viewing their swimwear designs via the company’s internal computer-aided design (CAD) system—these were the swimsuits that design wished to “sample,” or show to buyers, in September. Shelly reported to Paula, the head of design, and their close working relationship was ideal. Candace was grateful for it and wished that Darlene and Amanda could develop the same type of bond. The CEO had been very satisfied with the marketing work done by Darlene’s group in the past; Darlene’s leadership and vision had been one of the key components in their success and in the company’s bottom line.

  Candace buzzed Jess with a request for water and a cup of green tea. The green monster, jealousy, factored into today’s testy session with Darlene and Amanda, Candace believed. Despite Amanda’s talents, she was flawed with a deep insecurity that manifested itself in her pushy attitude. But she was valuable, and Candace couldn’t afford to lose her. She’d have to massage her ego. Yes, Candace was sure that in male-dominated businesses, the typical hierarchy experienced jealousy, backstabbing, and grudges, too. However, that didn’t compare to the cattiness and even nastiness of a group of ambitious, high-achieving women. Her team was smart, though, and very good in a crisis. Perhaps that was because of the way they were wired as women: adaptable, resourceful, and clever.

  Candace opened David’s email to her brother, which David had copied her on, then forwarded it to Rob. Monty was going to respond to her questions. If he didn’t, she was done with him. No matter how many babies he and Helen produced.

  On Thursday afternoon, with Candace safely on a commercial jet bound for LaGuardia, Jess skimmed her task list for the week and checked off the last assignment. She would tackle the next few items today and then have all day Friday to work on the rest. With her boss away, Jess might even be able to take some personal break time and relax. Normally, Candace bombarded her daily with urgent messages to get this or that done. In between, Jess stayed busy anticipating her orders and frantically putting out small fires before they became explosions. It was exhausting at times.

  Tomorrow morning, Candace would be on her way out of the country and wasn’t due back in Atlanta until almost the end of the month. Candace planned to spend a long weekend in France with Rob, then would be in New York for a week. Rob’s assistant Julia had emailed Jess the itinerary. Through NetJets, Julia had booked a private jet departing New York at nine o’clock in the morning and arriving in Nice seven hours later, at ten p.m. local time. Jess knew that for Candace, it was the only way to travel across the Atlantic: much shorter and more comfortable than first class on a commercial carrier overnight. An added bonus was the avoidance of crowds and their germs. When the jet touched down in France, it would be only four o’clock Eastern time, so the couple would be fresh and ready for cocktails.

  The itinerary showed they planned to stay at Château Eza, a five-star boutique hotel in Èze, a village just east of Nice. Jess pulled up the website Julia had linked to in her message and clicked through the photo gallery. Located at the height of the Moyenne Corniche and perched on top of steep rock cliffs, the Château boasted panoramic views of the French Riviera from private terraces floating high above the Mediterranean. For Rob, the trip was combination business and pleasure: he had a client meeting in Monaco on Monday. Candace would be checking in with the office then, but tomorrow she’d be out of touch for most of the day.

  Jess pulled up her Facebook page and settled back in her chair. She hadn’t checked it in days—she was just too busy to post much on it. Since her twenty-fifth birthday was in two days, she expected to get lots of Facebook birthday wishes. Beau was taking her out to dinner to celebrate that night, and on Sunday they planned to go to Lake Lanier.

  She had a new friend request. It was from Beau’s uncle, Chip Duncan. Jess checked him out. Jeez. He looked to be in his late thirties or forties. His profile picture was of him and his family: he was married with two kids, one of them a baby girl. Jess recognized his wife: she was Beau’s mom’s younger sister, Kristin. The kids were named Sonny (how original) and Sawyer.

  Jess shook her head slightly. Who named their baby daughter Sawyer? It must be Kristin’s maiden name. Jess had met her at a family thing last wint
er at Beau’s parents’ house, and then they had friended each other. Chip had only ninety-one Facebook friends. Jess had over nine hundred.

  Most of her Facebook friends were her age and younger—very few were her adult family members. Why did so many married adults insist on getting on Facebook, and worse, on friending young, single people like her? Didn’t they realize that Facebook was developed for people in college and in their twenties, primarily single people?

  Jess believed that older, married (and divorced) people who had a Facebook page (and who friended people who weren’t relatives) had one of two motivations: to reconnect with their high school friends or to establish themselves on the dating market. Well, maybe Chip Duncan felt that since he was Beau’s uncle, he was almost like family to Jess. She didn’t feel that way, and wouldn’t until she and Beau were married, or at least engaged.

  Although she was sure that Chip’s reason for friending her on Facebook was benign, she was now in the position of having to accept or deny his request. She much preferred Twitter. There, when someone followed you, you could choose to follow or not to follow them—no questions asked, and no hard feelings. As for Facebook, no matter what group of people it was intended for as a social media, it was used by zillions of people now. Jess was kind of over Facebook, anyway—she was drowning in stupid updates and photos.

  She looked over Chip’s page again, hovered the mouse over the “accept” icon for a few seconds, clicked on it, and forgot about it.

  Helen arrived at Vreden Management on Friday morning a few minutes early. She had taken off Tuesday and Wednesday, returning to work yesterday. The spotting had disappeared twenty-four hours before, and since then she’d had no more issues. She must have really needed the rest, especially with two babies in her womb.

  She had bought Clorox on Monday evening, but after Dawn’s admonition, was wary of using it to scrub the mold off the walls. What if just smelling the bleach triggered another episode of bleeding, or caused something worse? Then again, living in a dank, moldy basement couldn’t be good for her, either. She would get Monty to take care of it while she took Adele to a park or something. She’d have to pick the right time to ask him.

  She picked up her coffee mug and clicked on her email inbox. She was over the worst of the nausea she had experienced earlier in the pregnancy, and coffee tasted good again, thank God. She wasn’t a big coffee drinker, but she needed a little caffeine in the morning to get going. No one at work had suspected her pregnancy yet, which was fortunate. She smoothed her loose, dark blue dress over her expanding abdomen. Pretty soon she would have a serious babies-bump, but she didn’t plan to wear tight, stretchable clothes that would show it off, as was the fashion. People could just think she was getting fat. It wouldn’t bother her in the least.

  A new email popped up from her supervisor, Peter McPherson. She was to come and see him in his office as soon as possible. What could this be about? The brochure she had been working on this week was almost ready, despite her time off. She had planned to finish it this morning and have it ready by noon, even though it wasn’t due until five o’clock. Had something more urgent come up? Had she forgotten about another assignment that was overdue?

  With a nervous step, she made her way to Peter’s office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” he called.

  She entered and approached the nearest chair. “Good morning, Peter.”

  “Good morning. Close the door, please.”

  Helen turned, shut the door, and turned back to her boss, hesitating.

  “Thanks, Helen. Sit down. How are you feeling?”

  She dropped to a seat. “Much better, thanks.”

  “What was the matter? Flu?”

  “No. Well, not really sure. Exhaustion, I guess. I just needed some rest. But I’m back to normal now.”

  “Terrific. You have a toddler, right? All those germs. I’m sure he keeps you busy.”

  “She. Yes, she does. But she’s fine, too.”

  Peter smiled and glanced over at his computer screen, pausing. “Well, the reason I needed to see you this morning was to discuss some changes happening here at Vreden.”

  Helen nodded, her lips in a tight line, her eyes fixed on Peter.

  Peter cleared his throat and looked right at Helen. “As you probably know, some reorganization has been going on over the last few months.”

  “Well, I’ve heard some rumors—”

  “Which were just that—rumors. I don’t know how they get started, but they seem to have a life of their own.” He offered a weak smile. “In any case, let’s talk about reality. Which is that the company is downsizing.”

  Helen sucked in a breath, bracing herself.

  “Which means,” continued Peter, “that certain positions are being eliminated.” He picked up a pen on his desk and clicked it on and off, looking at it. Then he exhaled and turned his eyes back to Helen’s.

  “I’m sorry, Helen. You’ve done great work here—”

  “Wait. Are you saying I’m being laid off? Fired?” Helen said, her voice trembling.

  “I’ll give you a great recommendation. You’re on LinkedIn, right? You’ll get something right away, I’m sure. You can leave anytime today, but you’ll be paid through the thirtieth.”

  In shock, Helen stood as her eyes welled up with tears. She was having trouble breathing. Could this be happening? What if Peter knew she was pregnant with twins? She fought the urge to blurt it out, then spoke calmly.

  “Peter, my situation—”

  “I know you’re under a lot of stress. So is everybody. But Vreden is under stress, too. The real estate crash has affected our business, I’m sure you’re aware. We just don’t have the luxury right now of keeping nonessential employees. Not until things turn around.” Peter put the pen back on his desk and started to rise, signaling that the meeting was over.

  This is it. You have to tell him. “You don’t understand. I’m not able—”

  “Sure you are. Look, the decision’s been made—my paperwork is in. Don’t worry, though. You’re very talented. You’ll have a job by July first, I just know you will. Go ahead and stay at your desk today if you want. You’ll be locked out of the network, but get on the job sites later and get the word out. Then shoot me an email and tell me what you need from me.” He walked to the door and opened it, smiling.

  Helen’s legs began shaking as she somehow made her way to the door. She stopped and looked at Peter right in the eyes. Would it change anything if he knew? Should she beg?

  “Chin up, Helen. I’m confident that you’ll be fine.” He stood aside, looking down and waiting for her to leave. She stepped out and walked back to her desk, sat down, covered her face in her hands, and cried.

  On Sunday morning, Monty dropped Helen and Adele off at the Lindbergh MARTA station, where they could catch a train to the airport.

  Even though there was no traffic, he wasn’t about to drive them all the way down there, several miles south of the city. The train would take them straight to the terminal, and in about an hour, they’d be on a plane bound for Chicago. Helen’s sister, Dawn, had insisted on flying her and Adele up for a visit, now that Helen had been canned from her job and had nothing else to do.

  Monty pulled over to the curb in the “Kiss and Ride” lane and watched distractedly as Helen struggled with her suitcase and took their daughter’s hand.

  “Bye, Daddy!” called Adele.

  “Bye-bye, sweetie!” Monty said, then blew his daughter a kiss. Helen shut the car door and began rolling her bag toward the ticket machine, Adele at her side.

  He let out a deep breath as he guided the car out of the lot, happy to be free of them, for a while, anyway. Helen hadn’t told him about being fired on Friday morning until that evening, when she and Adele got home at the usual time. Evidently she’d stayed at the office, on the phone with her sister, devi
sing a plan to go stay with Dawn and her dimwitted husband Frank for the next two weeks.

  Monty was looking forward to the time alone, and to spending more time with Rachel. He’d stay over at the condo the whole time Helen was away. Staying at the house was just too depressing, and the condo was more comfortable, to say the least. He would head over there later today—Rachel would be waiting for him—but this morning, he needed to go to the house and finish some research.

  He’d started it on Friday, just after he looked at Chip’s Facebook page. He spent an hour guessing Chip’s password and finally cracked it, kicking himself for ignoring the obvious: Chip’s real name, Chester, plus the number 1—Sonny was a junior. Then he logged on and saw that Chip had recently friended Candace’s assistant, Jess Copeland. He checked out her page. The chick had just turned twenty-five and had gotten tons of Facebook birthday wishes. She had long dark hair, was gorgeous, and was in a relationship with Chip’s nephew—a fact that Monty assumed Candace didn’t know. Why would she? Candace didn’t care about anyone other than herself, or anything other than her company. It was her whole world.

  A world he was getting ready to shake up.

  On Friday afternoon, while Helen was still at work, not working, he found out everything he could about Jess. It wasn’t that difficult. She was on Twitter and her tweets were public. She had gone to the University of Georgia and was probably ecstatic to have a job at SlimZ, even if it was as Candace’s bitch. It had to be an incredibly stressful job, no matter what kind of bullshit she had to do. Who could put up with Candace all day, every day? She’d probably gone through a dozen other assistants before this girl came along.

  Jess had been with Candace for a few years, though. Long enough to have learned a lot about the workings of the company, but also long enough to be relaxed about what she knew. To be a little sloppy, like a lot of people her age were—at least, while the boss was away. She probably knew a ton about what was going on over there and had access to a myriad of confidential information. Information that the CEO trusted her not to share.