by R L Burgess
“Sorry,” she mouthed. “Won’t be long.”
She sat in one of the two plush, grey chairs positioned across the desk from Reyna and waited. She rested her notebook on her knee and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Through the big window she could see people holding up umbrellas, blurry shapes hurrying through the skinny drops of rain that streaked across the window. Reyna shifted the phone to her other ear, clearly trying to wind up the call.
“Look, I’ll have to revisit this with you next week when I’m up in Brisbane. We can have a face-to-face and nut it all out.” Reyna glanced at her without appearing to really see her, listened some more and then smiled. She nodded a few times as if the person on the other end could see her, and hung up with a quick goodbye.
“Phew! Sorry about that,” Reyna said, her attention shifting to Zoe. She dropped the phone onto her desk and sat down, making herself comfortable in the black leather swivel chair behind her desk.
Zoe chewed the inside of her lip. There was a moment of silence while Reyna flicked to a fresh page in her notebook.
“I’ve been speaking with Thomus,” Reyna started.
“I apologise if I came across as rude in the meeting,” Zoe said at the same time. “Sorry, you go,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.
“You feel you were rude in today’s meeting?” Reyna asked, her eyes curious.
“Possibly,” Zoe replied with a grim smile. “I didn’t mean to be, but in retrospect I may have been impolite when I suggested you were being shortsighted. I wasn’t meaning you, I just meant the approach could be considered, well, shortsighted.”
Reyna smiled gently, a kindness in her dark eyes. “As it turns out, I do actually understand where you’re coming from. In principle I probably agree with you, however, in practice we can’t operate like that. If you take an overarching view of our firm, as I am required to do, we are not the right people to march on over to this company and tell them why the decision they’re making for their own company is wrong. That’s just not our role.”
“But if we know they’re making a mistake?”
“First, no one actually knows if they’re making a mistake, but yes, we can take a fairly good guess that this won’t work out in the long run. That said, your team’s role, should the demerger go ahead, is to be prepared and to deliver using the financial instruments at our disposal. My role as CEO, however, allows me to have some quiet and well-placed conversations that may shed some light where insight is lacking amongst management at ViconProbis.”
Zoe wrinkled her brow. “So you would actually talk to them about it.”
Reyna placed a hand on her chest. “I would. Yes,” she said with emphasis. “And that kind of back-channelling is within my role. You guys need to stick to the brief.”
Zoe nodded, rubbing her brow as she realised Reyna was right. It was she who had been shortsighted, stepping outside the bounds of her role without even realising the consequences.
“So that’s why you didn’t agree with me in the meeting? Because you wanted to know what we thought we should be doing?”
“I suppose so. I always welcome robust conversation. If we don’t debate our ideas we might miss creative opportunities, but yes, you were playing in the wrong ballpark. Let’s move on now shall we?”
“Sure.”
Reyna glanced down at her notebook and jotted the date at the top of the blank page. “So,” she went on, changing course. “The reason I asked you to meet with me.”
Zoe sat up straighter in her chair.
“You’ve heard of FinCo?”
“I have.”
“Have you ever been?”
Zoe shook her head. “Not yet.” She was intrigued. FinCo was the prestigious international Financial Services Conference held in a different semi-exotic location each year. Mostly it attracted CEOs and well established financial heavy hitters, but lately an element of disruptive innovation had begun to creep in, with exciting presentations from start-ups and technology companies featuring on the program. Zoe had yet to attend, but she would usually read through the conference prospectus each year with interest.
“This year it will be held in Alice Springs at the start of September and I will be giving a presentation. I want to bring a small team with me from Azoulay House to present at some of the satellite forums and attend the events. The idea is to feed information and developments in the field back into the firm and to showcase our own innovations to the community.”
“Sounds like a cool idea.”
“I’m glad you think so, because I’m inviting you to come.”
Zoe’s mouth gaped. “Me?” She was baffled. “Sorry, just to be clear, you’re asking me to give a presentation at FinCo? The most highly sought-after conference invitation in the Southern Hemisphere.”
“Yes, exactly. Marketing mentioned your financial literacy seminars in last week’s management meeting. I couldn’t believe this was the first I was hearing of it. It’s an excellent idea, and I would like you to put together a presentation based on the sessions, capture the cohort age groups, give an overview of the session trajectories, the types of questions asked, the main issues people are facing, the relationship you’ve developed with local council, and of course, any outcomes. First, you can show it to me, and then you can then deliver it at the conference. You might like to ask marketing to help you put the presentation together so it is branded with our logos, etc.”
She gazed at Reyna, her light brown eyes shining with excitement. “I can do that.”
“Excellent. I think your program represents an outstanding opportunity for an organisation like ours to give back to the community. There’s not enough work like this going on. The separation between corporate and community is so entrenched. I don’t think organisations like ours have even considered ways we can contribute to society on a broader level. Your program is a trailblazer on this account.”
Zoe felt a little thrill run through her. This was the kind of recognition you hoped for, but didn’t dare dream of—the boss fully appreciating the strength of your ideas. Thomus hadn’t given any indication that he was even aware she had started the work, not that he was one for dishing out praise.
“There will be a small group going from the firm—myself of course, you, as well as Meryl and Stacey from the Sydney team. I don’t know if you know them?”
Zoe shook her head. “An all female delegation,” she said with a smile. “It’s good to see in such a male-dominated industry.”
“Well, I didn’t plan it that way, but the talent lies where it lies.”
“Just one thing,” Zoe said carefully, “Thomus has asked me to make sure these seminars are done entirely on my own time. I would be absolutely stoked to come to the conference and present with you, but if I’m going to continue to give the program the attention it deserves, it would be good to earmark a bit of extra time for it.”
Reyna pursed her lips. “You’ve been doing it as an extra-curricular activity, so to speak?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t aware that Thomus had made such a request.” She made a note in her book and underlined it firmly. “I’ll speak with Thomus about allocating you some work hours for this. We are not in the habit of taking people’s time for free here.”
“Thank you.”
“Right.” Reyna turned the small, triangular calendar on her desk around to face Zoe. “First week of September. Do you think you can put together a presentation by then?”
“Definitely,” she said, writing the date in her notebook. “I’ll have four complete sessions to review.”
“Sounds good. Nikki will be in touch to book your travel arrangements this week.”
Realising the conversation was over Zoe stood. “Thanks, Reyna. It’s a great opportunity.”
Reyna stood with her and walked her to the door.
“No problem. Actually, Zoe, there is just one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Can I check
that you’re okay?” Reyna momentarily pressed her hand briefly on Zoe’s arm, her eyes full of friendly concern.
Zoe blinked, not entirely sure how to answer, incredibly aware of the place on her sleeve where Reyna’s hand had just been.
“It’s just…your eye. And your lip. Has something happened?”
Her hand flew to her face, wincing as her fingers brushed her swollen lip. “Ah, yes this.” She smiled ruefully. “Tough Mudder.”
“The obstacle course thing?”
“Yeah. It can get pretty rough. I was climbing up a rope ladder and the guy in front of me slipped. His foot landed in my face, hence…” She waved her hand in a circle around her face. “Pretty, I know.”
“I see. Well I’m glad to hear it. I mean, I’m not glad you got a foot to the face, but I’m thankful that’s all it was. It does look a bit ominous. Pretty painful, I imagine.”
“You imagine correctly.”
Reyna studied her in a way that made her feel like a strange specimen, as if she was trying to determine why someone would put themselves through such an experience. “Each to their own, I guess.”
“Sorry for the way my face looks. I don’t have any client appointments for a few days so the black eye should settle down by then. Nothing a bit of concealer won’t fix. I know it sounds bizarre but it was actually fun.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Reyna repeated.
Zoe hesitated, her hand on the door. That was her cue to leave. She met Reyna’s unreadable dark brown eyes with her own and a pulse of electricity ran through her. Her breath caught in her throat. They were standing so close. If she just leaned forward she could brush her lips against Reyna’s. She imagined the first touch of their mouths meeting, just the thought creating a flush of shock in her abdomen.
Reyna took a step back moving away from the door. “So, we’ll regroup on FinCo in a few weeks.”
“Sounds good,” Zoe said, trying to sound professional. “And thanks…for checking in. I appreciate your concern.”
Letting herself out of the office she took a large gulp of air. Had Reyna felt that? Surely you didn’t just feel a spark like that all on your own. Was it possible she had been the only one?
Zoe returned to her cubicle and sat down heavily in her chair, rubbing her aching temples. Her judgment was probably not the best today. She rummaged in her desk drawer and fished out some paracetamol, washing it down with a slug of cold coffee from the mug on her desk.
“What did she want?” Mel asked, popping her head around the entrance to Zoe’s cubicle.
“To invite me to present at FinCo.”
“What!” Mel exploded. “That’s amazing.”
Zoe smiled wanly. “And to see why I looked as if I had been beaten up.”
“Ah, of course. You do look messy today.”
“I feel messy today.”
“Well go and have another coffee or something, would you? You need to be on top of your game for tonight’s seminar.”
“My name is Johanna,” a middle aged woman said tentatively, shifting in her chair. “I was recommended to come to the sessions by my financial counsellor.”
Zoe nodded encouragingly. The group had been introducing themselves and she had been impressed with the level of honesty people were bringing to the table.
The woman took a deep breath and looked around the group. “I spent some time in jail last year and I’ve been trying to get my life back on track ever since. My husband cleared out and left me with the kids just after my youngest was born, and it turned out he had racked up a whole bunch of gambling debts. I just couldn’t get on top of things.”
The group murmured in empathy for her, one participant shaking emphatically. “Rotten,” he said.
“It was,” Johanna agreed. “I was on my own, my family is over in Western Australia, and I couldn’t make enough money to cover rent and food, let alone child care fees while I was working. I was a shop assistant and one day I took some money from the till. My manager didn’t seem to notice so I realised that if I took cash and deleted some sales from the computer I could get away with it. I’m ashamed to say I did that for a year before I got caught. One evening I was closing up and I took more than usual, thinking I’d replace it as soon as I got paid, but I didn’t know that the manager had installed a camera over the till and he decided to press charges. They had months of footage of me stealing from the business and I was sentenced.”
Johanna looked at Zoe, her eyes filled with pain. “The shame was unbelievable. They put my children in care and I went to jail. Thank god they have a recidivism reduction program that focuses on financial counselling, and I’ve been able to get some help. I didn’t know I could get government assistance while I was working. And I’ve been granted a council flat for the next five years while I get back on my feet, so rent is really reduced. Now I can just focus on earning enough to feed and clothe my babies. They’re back with me now and I’ll never do anything to jeopardise them again.” A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away quickly. “I’m here to learn how to manage my finances better so I can get ahead.”
Zoe’s heart constricted painfully, watching the obvious shame and guilt etched on Johanna’s face. Johanna’s story reminded her of her own mother’s struggle to manage after their father had died, her battle with poverty, despair, and alcoholism and felt a powerful empathy for the woman sitting before her. “And I hope together we can do just that,” Zoe said. “Thank you for sharing your story with us, Johanna.”
At eight p.m. the last of the group had straggled out of the building and Mel and Zoe switched off the lights in the conference room, using a special fob to set the alarm for the building.
“I think tonight went really well,” Mel said as they stood by their cars in the dark of the parking lot. “You have so much knowledge to offer. It’s actually quite inspirational watching you deliver this program.”
Zoe shivered, turning up the lapels of her jacket. A cold wind whipped through the empty lot. “That was the best one we’ve done so far,” she agreed. “They were a great bunch. I like that it’s such a diverse group of people.”
“Same. This might sound weird, but I’ve never actually met anyone who’s been to prison before.”
“Neither. My first time.”
“How amazing that she was brave enough to share her story with us.”
“Totally. I’m so glad we’re doing this.”
“So am I. What a huge day. Me and my black eye need to go home to bed.”
Zoe blipped her car open and slid into the driver’s seat, starting the car. She buzzed down her window, calling out to Mel who was getting into her own car. “See you in the morning.”
Mel waved and Zoe pulled out of the lot, mentally calculating how long it would be before she could get home and put her feet up. Pain was pounding around her eye like waves on a cliff face and her muscles felt tight and stiff. She drove a route she knew well, taking a shortcut through the wintery back streets until she reached her block, pleased to see the warm and inviting orange light she had set up in the bedroom window shining from the street.
She creaked up the stairs and let herself in to her apartment, dropping her key onto the hook by the door.
“Honey, I’m home,” she muttered to herself, flicking on lights and the heating as she made her way into the kitchen.
She pulled on the old-fashioned chain hanging from the corner of the kitchen and the lightbulb flickered and blew with a small pop, leaving the room in semi-darkness. Damn. She switched on the torch on her mobile phone and fumbled through the bottom kitchen drawer, searching for a candle. She was sure there was one in here somewhere. In a moment she had three separate candles installed on the bench, their soft yellow light sending warm shadows around the little room.
Not bad, she thought, putting on the kettle and settling on a barstool as she waited for it to boil. She should use candles more often, she decided, enjoying the romantic light. Still, it would be helpful to repl
ace the bulb sooner rather than later. Candles were not quite so practical for her morning rush through the apartment to get breakfast and get out the door.
Sitting at the bench with a hot cup of peppermint tea steaming in her hands Zoe thought about Johanna. She reminded her so much of her own mother, struggling to make ends meet and do the right thing for her children. She took another sip of her tea, scalding her mouth. Sadness charged at her like a wounded bull, followed swiftly by a deep, slow-burning anger, and then guilt. Always the gnawing guilt. She should have done more to help her mother. Should have helped her get off the drink, helped her start afresh. She and her brother had tried to get her to counselling but their mother had refused to go, refused all attempts to help her, and gradually they had just all accepted it as the status quo. But the guilt lingered on.
A card stuck to her whiteboard caught her eye. It was still where she had left it after Enid had slipped it into her hand, some months back when they had been out for dinner, held in place with a little magnet from their cycling trip the previous year to Tasmania. She eased off the bench and fetched the card, running her finger over the embossed edge. Dr Singh, Psychologist. Would it be too weird to see a psychologist? Where would she even start? She couldn’t really imagine having to tell a complete stranger her feelings, but Enid had assured her it would be helpful. Enid’s brother had seen this particular psychologist when he and his wife had divorced, and he had sung her praises to Enid.
Zoe had been apathetic at the time. Now, sitting at her kitchen bench, she flipped the card over, noting the long string of qualifying letters beside the psychologist’s name. There was a quotation printed on the back of the card that she hadn’t noticed before.
“Sometimes asking for help is the most meaningful form of independence. – Unknown.”
Perhaps she would call in the morning.
Chapter Eight
Reyna (Saturday, two p.m.)
Reyna checked her watch again. If they didn’t pick up the pace now they would be late.