Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3)
Page 29
My dread grew daily. I wanted to be in the office the day she arrived. I wanted to hiss and curse her in proper welcome. I wanted to somehow defend what was mine: my people, my building, my memories.
Her stilettos would mark the floor on which Pete and I had made love. Her shadow would darken the window I’d looked out so many times, waiting for Pete’s ugly pickup truck to enter the parking lot. She would surely remove the door’s little bells—the ones that not only reminded me of Christmas but of Pete’s dramatic arrivals and departures during those first precious months we’d fought. She was going to destroy what I loved with her cancerous touch.
Having little else to do, my mind drifted to my first day in what, at that time, I’d deemed my little slice of purgatory. Sitting in the break room with Mona, I’d collected information that had scared me to death, driven me forward as if a pack of wild beasts was chasing me. And who had I called for advice? Who had I run to for help? The one sabotaging my career. The one enlisting my own lover to fuel her evil scheme.
Surveying my beautiful bedroom, I couldn’t help but reflect on my life as it presently stood; view the past with the clarity only its future could provide. Had Kirsten been the friend I believed she was, had my lover been faithful, then I would never have found my way here. I wouldn’t be able to look out my very own floor to ceiling windows and see the simple miracle of water. I wouldn’t have people in my life who would do literally anything for me. But of greatest importance, I would never have met the man for whom I would very gladly sell my soul. The one whose child I now carried. The one who’d taught me how to love.
Perhaps I was especially sentimental today because Pete was clearing out my office, packing my personal items in boxes. How easy it had been last time I left—how little from the building I had taken. And from Ohio, even less, though it should have been the opposite. Now my walls held pictures, my diploma and awards, and on my desk, the shell he once claimed would find its way back home. It had. A part of me lived in that building, and I hoped it chose to haunt her. I hope it turned poltergeist and tormented her. I smiled at the thought.
♥
On the thirtieth of October, First Baptist Church of Havelock convened an emergency prayer meeting on Mona’s behalf. After her soul was good and prayed for, she and Jimbo dropped by for a casual visit.
Mona wore a perky smile as she sat primly in my bedroom chair. She glanced at the stack of books on my generous nightstand and giggled. “You’ve been busy.”
“Oh yes,” I replied as Pete set an overly-filled glass of Chardonnay beside her. “I like A Smoky Affair the best so far, though Five Alarm Love is great, too.”
At first, reading her work had been merely an academic exercise. Knowing Lexi’s sexual preference, I was curious to see how she’d pulled off thirty-one flagrantly heterosexual New York Times #1 Bestsellers. That curiosity had slowly given way to fascination, and finally—and somewhat embarrassingly—to obsession. They’d also been the perfect cover for Operation Kirsten.
“I brought you Daphne’s policeman series,” she said, pulling a book from her canvas tote. “This one’s real steamy.” Pete snorted as he descended the stairs.
“I can’t wait to read it!” I said loudly.
When the sound of male laughter exploded from the kitchen, Mona promptly slumped, her carefree expression fleeing with her posture. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She stared out at Bogue Sound, its surface reflecting the pale pink sky. “I’m near scared to death.”
Strategies for Mona’s survival had dominated my thoughts for days. I flipped through the novel’s pages until I found Kirsten’s most recent emails, cut into bookmark shapes. Scouring them, I hissed, “Witch.”
“They’re awful,” she moaned. Kirsten was already gouging the district with her manicured claws. I couldn’t imagine the legacy she was leaving behind in North Dakota.
“Okay, when she walks in the door tomorrow, this is how you’re going to approach her,” I said. “You remember how coldly you acted towards Clark Shanahan when he first arrived?”
“I was not cold!”
“Yes, you were. I want you to turn glacial. Stay as emotionally detached from Kirsten as you possibly can. She knows we’re friends, and she’ll toy with you just to get to me. Don’t give her a way in, because the moment you show any weakness, she’ll eat you.”
Mona visibly quivered. “Oh dear Lord.”
“You’re great at your job. Don’t let her take that from you.”
I’d talked to Bob extensively about her situation. I’d never been so forceful in lobbying anything in my life, and would use every favor ever owed me to create a protective shield for her. But in all honesty, I worried about her endurance.
“You need to hide your emotions behind a professional mask. Work hard to keep it on.”
Though Kirsten’s skin was sheathed in iron, the South’s climate could eat through anything. I was banking on the locals to make her ineffective; she would rub absolutely everyone wrong, anyway. And thanks to Mona, my entire collection of our clients’ business cards was squirreled away, and I was poised to begin my single-handed smear campaign. My hope was after a few weeks of butting up against Eastern North Carolina’s brick wall, she’d either move her operation to Raleigh or spend ninety percent of her time in Philly like she used to.
Suggesting I cease and desist all work-related activities was like telling Pete the marlin were running but he wasn’t allowed to fish. Cursed with a bright and curious mind that had been forbidden from obsessing over anything of relevance, I was restless and bored. I had to do something other than watch bad TV, read trashy novels, and online window shop. And not twenty miles from my house was ground zero for work gossip, aka Mona, and moreover the subject of it. I wanted in.
“What’s she wearing?” I demanded as soon as Mona answered the following morning. Perhaps a more thoughtful lead-off question might have been How’s your first day going? or Are you still alive? But no, I was a right-to-the-point kind of girl.
“Let me see…a cream skirt that looks like it’s made of snakeskin or something”—Chloe, most likely—“and matchin’ shoes”—Manolo Blahnik, or possibly Chloe. “Her blouse is the prettiest orange I’ve ever seen”—Chloe’s signature color. “It’s sleeveless and cut real low in the front. I thought Gene was gonna have a heart attack when he saw her,” she giggled. “Couldn’t quite make eye contact with her…um…eyes. I don’t really think it’s proper office attire, but I guess it’s probly fittin’ up at corporate.”
“Yes. Handbag?”
“It looks to be snakeskin as well.”
“Pure cream?”
“Well, no. It’s got several different patterns sewn together.”
“Strap?”
“Brown leather.”
The ensemble totaled nearly five-thousand dollars retail. I coveted Kirsten’s wardrobe—openly coveted it. She had no mortgage, no husband, no children, no real expenses. Hers was a life of empty self-indulgence. I’d never come close to affording her style, but I’d kept the knockoff business fluid until I made her salary grade. By then, other than my pathological shoe fetish, I’d all but stopped caring. And after moving back…well, my life wasn’t empty anymore.
“Damn, it’s Kirsten’s Chloe day. She is in a mood.”
“Well, she’s been yellin’ since she walked through the door. I put my mask on first thing, like you told me. I practiced about an hour last night in the mirror. Jimbo thought I’d lost my mind. I keep tellin’ myself there’s a nice person under all that anger. I’m gonna start prayin’ for her, best as I can.”
I sighed internally. Mona embodied a purity few on this planet could understand. I know I couldn’t.
“I felt right embarrassed when I ran out to my car a little while ago. My Honda looks a sad sight between hers and Jayne’s. I think I’m gonna start parkin’ it down at the end where I used to.”
I’d never seen her car. There was no need to visit Rhode Island, and when she w
as in Philly, she just took cabs. “What’s she driving?”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s real fancy, though.”
I huffed. Mona’s car knowledge equaled my baking expertise. “Take a picture.”
“I’ll try to at lunch.”
As it was only ten, I grabbed the latest issue of Vogue and flipped through it. Yup, python was in and splatted across Saks’ two-page center spread. Though nearing retirement age, Lexi’s mother was still fashion editor. She decided which designers would be featured; she chose what the rest of us would eventually wear. I snorted, thinking of Lexi in that pink hat at my wedding. She was still rebelling, though in a more sophisticated way.
By ten-thirty, I’d turned to counting seagulls. These last few weeks would be the longest of my life.
When my phone vibrated, I lunged for it—well, as much as a ten-ton walrus in cotton sheets can lunge. Though the image was blurry, to an expert in cars—aka moi—I recognized it instantly. “A Jaguar,” I sneered at the lamp—yes, I had taken to talking to the furniture. And it wasn’t just any Jag, it was the 5.0L XJR in ingot, of all colors. Sexy enough to give Ryan a permanent hard-on. MSRP: $127, 000. How did I know this? My buddy, Google, told me.
And knowing her, it would have every single upgrade possible. How the hell much money did that witch make?
“Hey, sweetheart. I brought you lunch,” Pete said, as he mounted the stairs. I shoved my tablet under the covers and tried to look innocent.
One glance at my face and he raised an eyebrow. “You’re not workin’, are you?”
“Shopping,” I replied quite truthfully. “Whatcha got in that bag?”
Pete had stopped trying to shove vegetables down my throat and settled for semi-healthy. “Grilled chicken sandwich and sweet potato fries.” Okay, still a superfood, but fried, so that didn’t count.
He sat in the chair beside me and slowly unwrapped his sandwich. I realized he looked slightly unsettled.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m not altogether sure,” he said, tearing off a large bite. “I’ve always believed in God, but I wasn’t so sure about Satan. Well, not until today, anyway.”
“You met Satan?” I scoffed.
“Or one of his high ranking officials.”
“Really? Where were you?”
“Mona called. Seems when I cleaned out your office, I missed a couple of things. She said she’d run ’em over after work, but since I was on my way back from New Bern, I just dropped by.”
“And you met Kirsten,” I surmised.
He nodded slowly. “I’ve never hit a woman in my life—never even thought about it, but I had a strong urge to today. I knew she’d treated you badly, and that you hated her. I just thought—” He stopped and gave me a confused stare. “You and that creature were actually friends once?”
I chuckled hollowly. “Best friends.”
“Best friends…” He shook his head in disbelief. “Well, no wonder you were so miserable when we first met.” I smiled ruefully. “I might be goin’ to church Sunday.”
I snorted. “Or we could just call a priest.”
“Anyway, here.”
Ragged edges curled over the sides of the manila folder. I unfolded one of the oversized sheets and gasped. Sightlessly staring back at me was Pete’s pixelated face, eyes gouged out, holes blemishing his features. “Aww. Target practice.” I touched the braille-worthy paper. “This was the very first one.” I gingerly flipped through the rest as if they were the Dead Sea Scrolls. They’d become progressively less pockmarked over time until the last had no scratches at all. By then I’d fallen in love.
He laughed. “I can’t believe you kept them.”
“I kept a lot of things.” I thought of the box in the back of my closet and how hard it had once been to look inside.
He softly kissed my lips. “Me, too.”
♥
As the days wore on, I fixated on Kirsten, the sole target of my perverse fantasies. In glorious moments, I imagined the whole town of Havelock rising up against her with torches and pitchforks. I’d awaken from my lovely recurring dream of rolling her limp and rotting body into the Great Dismal Swamp with a big smile on my face. I prayed she would fail miserably and be fired, and that it would somehow make the cover of Business Week. One especially dark daydream involved her car being hit by an errant short-range missile launched from Cherry Point Marine Base.
It was all fine and good until the day Mona called, sobbing.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Reeves!”
Service rep scenarios flipped through my mind. “Did he have a wreck?” I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.”
“Worse. Kirsten fired him.”
“Fired him?!”
“Uh huh. She told him he wasn’t making his numbers.”
“That’s bullshit. He’s not breaking records, but his contract sales have been absolutely fine.” I grabbed my laptop and logged into my district files. “Password invalid?” I checked caps lock and retyped. The same message appeared. “What the…Mona, I’m locked out of the system. She’s blocked my access.” If I couldn’t get to the data, then it was my word against hers. “I’m calling Reeves.”
“Okay,” she sniffled.
Reeves picked up on the first ring. “You heard?”
“What the hell? Pull up your spreadsheets and reports. Print them all out so you have hard copies. She’s only been your supervisor a few weeks. She has no evidence.”
“Actually, I can’t. She confiscated my computer and laptop before I left the building.”
“And you let her? Reeves, c’mon!”
“I didn’t have much choice. She threatened to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR if I fought her on it.”
“That’s crap. You would never—” Then I sighed. I was well aware of her particular skill set. “You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”
Silence.
“Oh, Reeves. She’s…” what could I say to him. She wielded her sexual weapons better than a fencer his sword. “Kirsten’s a pro. I’m so sorry.”
“I’d better go. If you hear of anyone hiring, would you—I know I screwed up, but would you..?”
My heart ached. “I’ll write a recommendation letter anytime you need one. You were a great employee. Really topnotch.”
He exhaled heavily. “Thanks.”
Once we disconnected, I screamed and threw my phone across the bedroom. Then, after rethinking things, I crawled across the floor after it.
“Bob. Susan Walsh here. I was—”
“Can’t help him.”
“Reeves did nothing wrong.”
“Her word against his.”
“Dammit, Bob. You know what she’s doing. This is the beginning of a bloodletting.”
“Let it go. If she violates company policy, I’ll deal with it.”
“I can’t just—”
“Let it go,” he said sternly.
I sighed mightily. “This is all very difficult for me.”
“Try sitting in my chair some time,” he said with an empty chuckle. “How are you personally?”
Because I’d clearly lost my mind, I said, “Bored, frustrated, blimp-like. Without any projects, I’m not sure what do with myself.”
He was silent for a moment, and I was afraid I’d overstepped the boundaries of our lord/serf relationship. I knew nothing about Bob’s private life. He wore a wedding ring, and floating in his sea of desk debris were pictures of two young children. I’d never noticed any other personal effects in his office
“My daughter had a rough time with her first. Drove us all nuts.” Alrighty then. “You remind me of her sometimes.”
“Oh?”
“You’re both stubborn pains in my ass when you want something.”
I barked out a laugh. “I’m in good company then. While I’m being a pain, you don’t happen to have any work an invalid can do, do you? I’ll take pretty much anything.”
He chuckled. “Rest, have your baby, come back to work.” And with that, he disconnected.
♥
My phone rang later that day. Grateful for any human contact, I answered immediately.
“Good afternoon, Miss Susan. How are you?”
“Lovely, Mr. Durpree. It’s so nice hearing from you.”
“Where’s that boy of yours?”
“Excuse me?”
“Donna called over to your office and was told he’d left the company. I’d never want to be the recipient of your ire, but he seemed an upstanding fellow. Came with your blessings, if I recall.”
“Reeves is, I mean was an upstanding employee.”
“Donna liked him quite well. I don’t know who you’re plannin’ on replacing him with, but as you know, I’m not a man who enjoys change.” Understatement of the century.
“Yes, sir, I’m well aware of that. Unfortunately, I have no say in the matter. I believe you know I’m pregnant, but you may not be aware that I’m now on mandatory bed rest. I’ve been replaced.”
Mr. Dupree became enraged. “It is illegal and immoral to fire a woman on maternity leave. I will be contacting your legal department to discuss this matter.”
“Mr. Dupree—John—I haven’t been fired. I’ve just been replaced. They’ll assign me a new district when I return to work.”
“A new district?”
I sighed. “Yes, sir. And unless a miracle occurs, it won’t be in North Carolina.”
He sounded as if he was choking. When he caught his breath, he said in a strained voice, “That is unacceptable to me.”
“Sir, I’m certain you won’t be alone in that sentiment.”
“Hmm.”
“John, if I could ask a favor. Since you appreciated Reeves’ work, if asked, would you be willing to serve as a reference? The woman who replaced me has treated him rather unfairly.”
“I’d be pleased to. Now, tell me about this new woman.”
Game fucking on.
My smile grew as wide and crooked as the Grinch’s on Christmas morning. “Born and raised up North, she’s never worked in the South before and doesn’t understand…or perhaps it’s that she doesn’t appreciate the way we do things. I’m afraid she might look down on us, altogether. It’s very unfortunate, really. Regardless, she ought to get to know her most important clients, and as quickly as possible. Wouldn’t you agree?”