by Joan Cohen
She could see why she’d been required to provide ahead of time her medical records and family information, sparse though that was. She was asked to elaborate on her father’s condition, though Jeanne knew only what her mother’s safe deposit box had revealed, and the doctor probed the symptoms that had worried her about her own mental state.
Somehow her missing and mysteriously reappearing notebook and her misplaced parked car sounded trivial in that setting, where she knew people had been interviewed who couldn’t find their way home or recognize their friends. At least she was able to respond.
After a lengthy interview, the neuropsychologist introduced Jeanne to the medical student who would administer the tests. She was a serious young woman, Indian perhaps, with dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Nara Shah’s nametag sat at an angle, as though she had clipped it hurriedly to her white jacket. She wasted no time arranging her papers and forms and setting up her stop watch, giving Jeanne the impression she needed to run off as soon as possible to do something more interesting, like viewing brain slices under a microscope.
The first test required Jeanne to listen to a brief, detailed story and repeat back as much of it as she could. Nara would come back to the story two more times during the battery of tests, and Jeanne was pretty sure, whatever the details she might have failed to recite the first time, her rendition of the story remained the same. Nara was impassive, so Jeanne could take neither heart nor despair from her performance. She wondered if she had acted the same way with her subordinates when they’d presented to her, and vowed to provide more positive body language in the future, if only to reduce their anxiety.
Some of the tests were fun, completing drawings or creating new ones, listing all the farm animals she could think of or words beginning with the letter “F” and connecting numbered dots. After easily remembering groups of numbers Nara read aloud, Jeanne’s self-confidence grew.
Gradually, the strings of numbers grew long. Some needed to be repeated back in reverse sequence. Responses were timed, and Jeanne found herself flashing back to college, to her panic in her first art history exam when the professor changed slides so fast that Jeanne couldn’t identify the paintings. The more she missed, the more she missed, like interest compounding on credit card debt. When the evaluation was over, Nara allowed herself a small smile as Jeanne shook her hand, thanked her, and wondered if she dared regard that change in expression as a positive sign.
After texting Maggie about the baby’s first kicks, Jeanne checked her email. She wasn’t the only one invoking exclamation points, since a message from Jake asked her and the rest of the executive team to join him in his meeting with Lou ASAP. If Lou had been summoned, there had to be a product problem. She put her car in gear and drove as fast as the garage’s switchbacks allowed, but the exit line moved in fits and starts through the card insertion device.
Bart and Lou were already in Jake’s office when Jeanne arrived. Bart stood at Jake’s whiteboard, dry marker in hand, enumerating the requirements of the Stellarstore Retail request for proposal just received by one of Bart’s sales reps. Jake, seated at his conference table, leaned on his elbows, while Lou sat with pursed lips, arms crossed above his belly. “It’s an awesome opportunity,” Bart concluded.
“Would be,” Lou said, pointing at the board, “if we could do all that.”
“But isn’t most of it in our product plan already?”
“Most is not all, Bart. Sales reps exaggerate. VPs shouldn’t.”
“One of our competitors will do it all. It’s too big an opportunity to pass up.” Bart was right, and Jeanne was pretty sure she knew which competitor had the engineering bandwidth to pull it off.
Lou shook his head. “This is where companies go off the rails. They deviate from their strategic plan to chase a single piece of business, and then they don’t have the resources to do the really important stuff.”
“Maybe we partner with another company to cover all the bases,” Jeanne suggested.
Jake leaped out of his seat, eyes burning with blue flame, and pounded the table. “I want this deal, all of it. I’m not giving a piece of it to a partner, you hear me, Jeanne? Lou will find a way to get the engineering done so Bart can close it! Lou, is that clear?”
Lou jerked upright in his chair, propelling it from the table. Even Bart backed away, hardened though he was by years of angry customer abuse. Jeanne felt the table vibrating beneath her hands as Jake struck it. Lou’s fists were clenched, and, for a moment, Jeanne thought the argument would turn into a brawl. She felt vulnerable in a way she never had before. Pregnant women didn’t break up fist fights.
“Guys, guys,” Bart pleaded. “Let me go back to my rep and have her test the waters with the customer. He may be flexible on the timing of some of these product features. Maybe we don’t need everything ready on day one. Let’s find out his implementation schedule.” Jeanne let out her breath and silently forgave Bart for all previous transgressions.
A silent Lou got up from his chair and walked out, leaving Jake to watch his exit and collapse back into his chair. “I’ll get right on this,” Bart said, gathering his papers. He glanced at Jeanne as he pulled the door closed behind him. Neither Jake nor Jeanne spoke, but as the wall clock’s second hand measured the quiet in audible increments, Jeanne pondered how to avoid provoking his anger while suggesting he take time off. This wasn’t the best timing, but she had to do something.
“Jake—”
“Don’t! I’m the CEO of this company, and I have the ultimate say. Just because Lou pissed me off doesn’t mean I’m the one with the problem.” He rose and began pacing his office. “Franklin Burrows called to ask how I was doing. He wanted to know if I’d recovered from the shock of the car crash. ‘I’m fine,’ I told him.” He stopped inches from Jeanne. “Who said I wasn’t, Jeanne? You? Because you were the only one who knew.” He leaned over and grabbed the arms of her chair, trapping her in her seat. “And you’re the one in line for my job.”
Jeanne felt electricity coursing through her body, but she tried to speak in measured tones. “Franklin was in our office the day of the crash. He must have seen how upset you were, justifiably upset. I wouldn’t read anything into the honest concern he expressed on the phone.” It was Parker, she wanted to yell, not her—Parker plotting a coup d’état and marshaling his forces. She couldn’t say the words, not when Jake was making Parker’s mutiny seem rational.
As soon as Jake released her chair, Jeanne bolted for the door—late for a marketing meeting—had to go. She could hear the ping of text messages arriving on her phone but ignored them as she raced to Lou’s office. His door was closed, but she could see through the narrow glass panel beside the door he was conferring with Bart.
Lou spotted her and beckoned. “Still not ready to make a decision about Jake?” he asked.
“I’m still kind of—” She was going to say “numb,” but Bart interrupted.
“Weren’t you in the same meeting as us? Jake’s ready for a padded cell.”
Lou sighed and swiveled back and forth in his chair. When he finally spoke to Jeanne, his voice had softened. “I understand why you’re resistant. You want to be fair to Jake while he’s going through a rough patch.”
“Rough patch?” Bart snorted. “Parker’s right. We need to go to the board—unless something’s still holding you back, Jeanne. Jake got something on you?” His eyes wandered down to Jeanne’s abdomen.
“Alberta got something on you?” she shot back.
“Hey!” Lou intervened. “Jeanne, not helpful. Bart, way out of line.” Only Jeanne’s lingering gratitude for Bart’s role in pacifying Jake kept her from further attack. She was going to have to sign on with Parker’s effort to move Jake aside, but Bart was making it harder for her to relinquish her holdout position.
She wanted to do what was best for Salientific, but there would be an opportunity cost to deposing Jake. He was popular with company employees, especially the engineers who appreciated
the synergy between Jake, the technical visionary, and Lou, the capable engineering executive. It felt so wrong, taking Jake’s job away because of a relapse of PTSD. Companies readily bundled off their alcoholic executives to detox and welcomed them back to their jobs. Why should Jake’s sacrifice for his country be punished?
“I agree with both of you,” Jeanne said. “Jake was over the top today. We can’t go on like this. Give me one more shot at getting him to take time off and get help. Bart, you said you wanted Jake here through the kickoff. It’s only a month away. If any other crazy stuff happens or I’m unsuccessful, I’ll join you so we can present a united front to the board—he goes or we go.”
Bart was shaking his head before she finished. “The guy practically goes postal on us, and she wants to give him more time. Unbelievable.”
Lou chimed in, “I get it, Jeanne, but we only have a few days to decide what we’re doing with the Stellarstore RFP. This week—get him out of here this week or I’m going to kill him myself. Bart, talk to your rep about the customer’s implementation schedule before we tear the management team apart over this.”
Jeanne devoted her evening to researching PTSD. The depression, withdrawal, irritability, and anger she read about were all observable in Jake’s recent behavior. Recklessness, however, including drug and alcohol abuse, was not. Cold comfort, but at least Jake’s situation seemed salvageable.
She sat back and chewed her pen. Could she be sure he wasn’t a substance abuser? All she really knew was that he was divorced. The websites she looked at emphasized the importance of a support system. If Jake didn’t have one . . . Of course, when Luke had asked her if she had one, she’d lied. No way could she chastise Jake for being a loner, even if their reasons were different.
On the US Veteran’s Administration website, Jeanne found information on a variety of therapeutic approaches and medications currently in use for the treatment of PTSD. She wondered if her relationship with Jake was strong enough for him to tolerate her offering advice. He might think her presumptuous. If, after yesterday, their relationship was broken . . . She dreaded a replay of that conversation.
The next morning, Bart copied Jeanne and Lou on the email exchange with his sales rep for Stellarstore. She was pretty sure it would be okay if engineering provided enhancements to Salientific’s product in phases. She would set up a meeting ASAP to verify that the phase-in would still meet her customer’s schedule. Bart asked her to set up an executive-level meeting, promising he would fly out for it. If Bart could get high-level buy-in, it would defuse the tension between Jake and Lou over the engineering schedule.
Jake replied immediately to Jeanne’s email querying his availability. She had until two to gird herself. She was glad she’d get one more crack at getting Jake to deal with his problem but couldn’t shake her discomfort with her own motives. Was she doing the right thing for the wrong reason, or maybe even the wrong thing? How difficult it had become to separate her ethics from her emotions.
She couldn’t forget Jake’s sweet, sheepish smile the morning they’d woken up in the same bed. She couldn’t forget he might be the father of her child. If this new menacing Jake couldn’t fulfill his duties as CEO, though, she had a responsibility to report that fact to the board. That’s what Lou would say. Don’t get philosophical and worry about motives, yours or anyone else’s. When she and Lou had first taken their walk together, he’d been untroubled by Parker’s motives.
Jake’s door was open at two o’clock when Jeanne approached, fingers twitching with trepidation. He looked up from his laptop when she rapped the doorframe. He wasn’t smiling but appeared calm as she took a seat across the desk from him. Beginning with her respect and admiration for him and going on to express her genuine concern for his health and well-being, she suggested he treat himself to a week’s vacation.
Jake seemed willing to hear her out, so she pointed out that Salientific had no deadlines from that point till Christmas. Bart’s revenue numbers were over target, Stellarstore was open to a looser schedule from engineering, and people in the company were focused on the approaching holidays. Not only could Jake be spared, but he was owed a respite.
Jeanne saved for last the suggestion she feared would get her thrown out of his office. “Perhaps a vacation would give you some space to touch base with a therapist at the VA hospital. Bet you haven’t had time for that in a while.”
Jake sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Sorry if I came on a little strong yesterday. You’re right. I have been on edge lately, and I appreciate your concern. Tell you what, let me think about it, check my calendar—see what commitments can be moved out a week. I’ll let you know, okay?”
Jeanne exhaled with relief. She was tempted to continue the conversation, so armed was she with arguments for him to seek help, but she knew the sales maxim: when you get the order, stop selling and get out. The problem was she hadn’t quite closed the deal.
Jake was leaving her no choice but to thank him and retreat. “I’m so glad you’re going to take some time away. Just let us know when.” The presumptive close was worth a shot—pretend he had actually committed.
When Jeanne returned to her office, she was tempted to burn incense and pray to the gods of reason—anything rather than wait for Jake to let her know his decision. The gods smiled, and half an hour later, Jake’s email on his weeklong vacation, beginning Monday, appeared in her inbox.
The message had gone out company-wide, and Jeanne referenced it in her follow-on message to Bart and Lou. Bart responded with a simple “thx” from his cell phone, but Lou praised her effort and expressed hope they’d see a change in Jake’s behavior on his return. While Jeanne knew any real progress depended on whether Jake saw a therapist, she had no way to ensure he would.
At Weight Watchers, Maggie had her purse on the chair she always saved for Jeanne. Lucy had already begun the session and was soliciting good-news stories about the week’s weight loss successes. The first thing Jeanne noticed when she slipped in beside Maggie was how thin and drawn her face seemed, even though Jeanne had seen her at Dawning Day a week ago. “Have you eaten anything since the holiday?” she whispered in Maggie’s ear.
“Yes, Mom,” she whispered back, straightening up when Lucy glanced their way. Most of the good news reported by others in the meeting related to coping successfully with Thanksgiving dinner, and Lucy invited applause after each testimonial.
As the discussion turned to strategies for healthy eating on Christmas, Jeanne felt the companionable warmth of Maggie’s arm against hers. She wanted to buy Maggie something special for Christmas but wasn’t sure what she might want. Jeanne and her mother had always exchanged lists before birthdays and holidays to avoid unwanted or impractical gifts. There were no surprises in the Bridgeton household.
At the end of the meeting, Maggie asked how she did. Jeanne grimaced. “Up two pounds.”
“You’re allowed.”
“If I keep gaining at this rate, I won’t fit behind the wheel of my car.”
“Walking’s better for you anyway.”
“Good old Nurse Maggie, always telling me to take a walk.” Jeanne was about to ask Maggie how well the scale had treated her this week when Lucy approached them and asked Maggie if they could have a word. Jeanne left them and went over to the cookbook display, which reminded her she was hungry. She wanted to buy a package of brownies but felt guilty about having a sweet before dinner. Maggie’s ribbing notwithstanding, a better purchase might be a Fitbit.
Maggie’s voice was soft, but Lucy’s had a shrill edge, and a few of her words carried to Jeanne, who admittedly had one ear cocked. Lucy expressed concern over the rapidity of Maggie’s weight loss. The words “slow but steady” drifted over, but Jeanne couldn’t hear Maggie’s response. She imagined Maggie had put Lucy off with some equivalent platitude.
If Maggie was screwing around with partial fasting, she might have another fainting episode like the one at Starbucks, or worse yet, behind the wheel. Maggi
e looked annoyed and seemed eager to get away from Lucy, so Jeanne didn’t want to pile on and admonish her too. “I’ve got to get home to Bricklin, but let’s go to dinner, maybe this weekend, if you’re off? A new restaurant just opened at the Natick Mall, and it was well reviewed.”
Jeanne’s quickly conceived plan was to talk with Maggie about her diet in a relaxed, neutral setting. After that, they could stroll around the mall, perhaps allowing Jeanne to divine Maggie’s heart’s desire in clothes for a Christmas gift. Maggie was always admiring Jeanne’s outfits, and her own clothes were doubtless getting too big as fast as Jeanne’s were getting too small.
Emerald House, contrary to its name, was not green and sparkly in its decor. The Emerald was the chef’s signature dish, a quail with parsnip puree and haricots verts. Other dishes had jewel names too.
Jeanne had never seen Maggie dressed up. With a blue V-necked dress that matched her eyes, set off her flowing blond hair, and revealed serious cleavage, Maggie might still be big, but she was positively alluring. Shedding more weight was needed only to enhance, not achieve, the effect. “Oh my God, look at you! You’re a fox. What a shame you’re only having dinner with a model for Omar, the tentmaker.” Jeanne smoothed her maternity top over her belly.
“Can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend Saturday night with.”
“Sweet, Mag, but a bald-faced lie. A dry martini will fix that. Works better than sodium pentothal.” The restaurant was crowded, and Jeanne was glad she’d made a reservation. While it was a bit high-end for the average mall shopper, patrons of Neiman Marcus and the designer shops probably helped fill seats.
The maître d’ ushered them to a table by the window, where other tables for two were clustered. To her horror, Jeanne recognized Vince two tables away. He was clinking his glass of Chivas with the champagne flute of a striking brunette, twenty years his junior. When he saw Jeanne, his eyes widened. He took in her face and baby bump, while Jeanne took in the red knit dress pulled tight across his dinner companion’s thighs, her endless legs, and her open-toed red suede platform heels.
