by K. L. Brady
What kind of man would make a woman question her own abilities? The answer was in the expression of every member of the team sitting before her.
TiTi opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Even she understood.
Tessa turned to Max, who reluctantly finished the story in her place. "Their relationship has been on-again, off-again since I met her. Crazy. She couldn't let him go. We all knew she deserved better, but that meant nothing if she didn't know"—she shrugged—"Anyway, yesterday, he called. Might've been around lunchtime. I remember because we were in the breakrooms for one of those brown bag training sessions on brainstorming ideas. Her face cracked after their discussion."
Everyone agreed with the account. They nodded and exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"I asked her what happened, and she said that he told her they need to talk at home. She tried to convince me, or maybe herself, that he would pop the question. Seemed reasonable after all the time they'd been together. But, uh-uh, nope. I knew better."
"Yeah, they talked all right," Denesha added. "I guess she couldn't handle it—or maybe after everything that's happened, she faced the truth. She just checked out of work, checked out of life. Her mom said Todd destroyed her.”
Denesha pressed her hand against her chest.
"Her mom called trying to explain that Joya's distraught and to ignore her resignation, poor lady. She doesn't want Joya to lose such a wonderful opportunity."
Tessa couldn't help but wonder if something she'd said had sparked the argument? She immediately replayed their conversation in endless loops in her mind, questioning whether, in trying to offer her hope, she caused Joya to feel hopeless.
Tessa understood the kind of pain that would make Joya want to barricade herself and quit all semblance of normal life. This is the part where Joya needed someone to help her realize how valuable she was and let her know life would go on after Todd. "There's got to be something I can do to help."
More than saying the right words, she wanted to ensure she didn't say the wrong ones and compound an already bad situation.
"I'm going to make sure she's okay."
"I had my appendix removed two summers ago," Max said. "Nobody came to see me...from Hart, anyway. No cards. No flowers. No-thing."
"Well, at Keep It Real, my employees, my team, we're like family. We care for each other, and we take care of business. I'll get her address and visit her."
"I've got it. She and I live in the same development." As fast as Denesha revealed the address, Tessa disappeared.
Joya's resignation took Tessa back to the fateful moment, seconds after she'd read the greeting card, Cody sent that awful day.
She'd experienced the devastation first hand. After absorbing the crushing impact from Cody's square peg and round hole card, something inside her heart wanted to die...at least for an hour or two. Maybe a week.
But time and faith healed all. Although despair turned into hurt and hurt into anger, eventually anger morphed into grit and determination. With a lot of hard work, her determination manifested as the phenomenon known as Keep It Real Cards.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, she arrived at Joya's development in Maryland, a trail of three-story colonials with lush lawns and wrap-around front porches.
A curly-haired brunette wearing UGGs and a bulky green sweater sat on the front porch puffing a cigarette with one hand and wiping her nose with a handkerchief inside the other. Tessa assumed she was Joya's mother because she and Joya practically mirrored one another, except one was at least twenty years older. Tessa’s stomach knotted with angst.
The woman's sadness intensified Tessa's own apprehension about being the root of their troubles. The thought paralyzed her to the point that she almost did an about-face and hauled out of there. Instead, she pushed past her angst, and a few tenuous steps later, she stood in front of the woman, who peered up.
She searched Tessa's eyes for something familiar and found nothing. She struggled to smile. As the woman tucked the handkerchief into her front pant pocket, Tessa introduced herself.
"Hi, I'm from Hart Enterprises. Tessa Sweet. You and Joya could be twins. She's on my team." She exhaled when the woman appeared more relieved than irritated.
"Oh, yes. It's nice to meet you. I'm her mom, Rose." She offered a slight wave. "I'd shake your hand, but mine is probably coated in snot." She scanned over her shoulders. "I could use some hand sanitizer."
"I've got some." Tessa dug into her purse, pulled out a small bottle, and chuckled inside. Joya's sense of humor was clearly homegrown. She could see a new wave of sobs building behind the woman's eyes. Her lips quivered as she accepted the bottle.
"Wait a minute. Tessa. Oh, my goodness. Joya mentioned you the other day. She truly admires you."
Tessa smiled, pressed her hand against her heart, and demurred at her kind words. "How is she doing? I just heard the news and rushed over."
"She'll survive this...at least physically. But I haven't seen her so fragile, so vulnerable since I gave birth to her. Doctors can make the blind see. They can make the paralyzed walk. But nobody's figured out a quick-fix to heal a broken heart." The whites of her eyes appeared streaked with red lines as more tears pushed through. The only thing that seemed to keep her from falling apart was the threads of strength and courage she mustered for her daughter.
"I hear Joya's not doing well. She won't leave the house?"
"I told her that Todd boy was no good." She sniffed. "He's got those beady little eyes. You know what I'm talking about? Red flags were flying around like pigeons at a swap meet. He didn't want to meet me. When he finally met me, no eye contact. Zero."
Tessa groaned and nodded.
"Weak, insecure. Todd destroyed Joya from the inside out. She insisted he was 'the one.'"—she used air quotes—“I told her he's not the one; he's a bum. You say that two or three times, you're mildly annoying. By the six-hundredth time, you're ignored. What could I do?" She lifted a single eyebrow and slumped into her chair. "How could he be so heartless? Such a coward?" Rose asked the question more toward the universe than to Tessa.
There were so many things Tessa could've said, but she clamped her lips shut and let Rose release what seemed to be a year's worth of pent up frustration.
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened? I mean, this was all so shocking because we just spoke. I offered her some advice about believing in herself, and I thought—I don't know, something must've triggered this."
Rose replied, "Yes. A card."
"A card?" Inexplicably, Tessa gasped. Rose's words transported her to the minute, the second she received the one from Cody. An eerie feeling crawled through her. The timing seemed too coincidental.
"I'm not old, but I'm just old enough to remember when people bought cards to brighten someone's day, to remind loved ones and friends they had caring, loving witnesses to their lives, you know?" Rose began. "But with all these social media trolls and keyboard cowards, I shouldn't be surprised common decency is extinct. My daughter's condition is proof of that fact."
Rose's spirit seemed to deflate as her purse strap fell from her shoulder.
Tessa sat in an adjacent chair while she retrieved an envelope from her bag.
"Nowadays, they'll make a card for anything, thoughtless jackasses." Rose handed the envelope to Tessa, which she examined for only a second before clenching her eyes shut. "Go ahead. Open it. They call this mess Real Talk," she heard Rose say.
She didn't want to look at it. Her stomach began to quiver. She wanted nothing more than to sprout wings and fly away. Unfortunately, no matter how far she traveled, there'd she'd be, forced to face herself, her truth. At that moment, she heard his voice.
Cody.
Their argument over Real Talk replayed and his words echoed in her mind.
"This line—your actions—they will come with consequences, mark my words," he spat. "For your sake, whatever they may be, I hope you can live with them."
Rose held the
card.
Could Tessa live with the consequences?
No, she couldn't.
The thought sparked an epiphany about Keep It Real Cards, about her goal for the company, her vision, and, most importantly—the translation.
Her intent, her heart was in the right place. Through greeting cards, she'd set out to deliver authentic, honest messages that, yes, may hurt at first, but eventually, they would inspire people to become the best versions of themselves. She realized for her vision to materialize, her consumers had to translate her messages the right way.
But what if they didn't?
She envisioned the heart-hurt transforming soul-breaking pain into the kind of grit and creativity that helped her turn her own dreams into reality. However, what if the heartbreak that drives one woman to determination pushes another to the brink?
Pain, hurt, honesty—they did not convert into positive energy for every woman. The wiring in women was as unique as our DNA. The Real Talk line—was mean.
For some, the cards may serve as the cornerstone for rebuilding and growth. But for others, the messages would hit like wrecking-balls, maybe driving them further into the darkness of depression—or something far worse.
Still, she had time to change the line, to be the leader she should've been in the first place. Now that she knew better, she'd do better.
For now, she'd regret the choice.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cody
* * *
Kyle struck Cody's office door with two quick knocks and poked his head inside.
"Hey! You wanted to see me?"
Cody marched laps around his executive desk, tugging at his already loosened tie.
"Uh-oh, what's going on?" Kyle continued.
Cody waved him inside without missing a step. He could feel the veins in his neck protruding and only imagined the state of his expression. Judging by Kyle's reaction, it accurately reflected his distress.
He snapped his head toward Kyle and replied, "Thundersnow."
In scientific terms, thundersnow, a winter event, occurred when a thunderstorm clashed with a cold front. Emotionally, it was whenever conflict brought him toe to toe with Tessa.
Tessa and Cody lived on opposite ends of the same spectrum, always.
He was illustrations. She was prose.
He was driven and content. She was free and fearless.
He marched to orders. She made her own rules.
He was lightning—he cracked. She was thunder-she boomed. His anger burned hot, while she froze under fire, grew silent, withdrew...and plotted.
The quieter and calmer she became, the more devastating her impact when she let loose.
He'd relearned the lesson many times throughout their relationship. He knew they clashed like thundersnow, and, yet, he'd bought her company from under her nose.
That's when the revelation overcame him.
Before her, he'd never allow emotions of any kind to infiltrate his business decisions. Their breakup was the proof of it. The decision to acquire Keep It Real was not one he would've made. However, under the same circumstances, Tessa would've acquired it in a heartbeat.
In fact, Tessa had not behaved out of character. He had.
And now she dared to conspire against him as if he were the enemy? He couldn't be farther from her adversary. Maybe, after all this time, she needed to know the truth.
The turbulence had overwhelmed him, moved him out of his seat, and pushed his feet to the floor. He'd practically paced a hole in his office rug, trying to diffuse his anger.
"What is she trying to do to me?" he said to the universe in general and Kyle in particular.
"Don't you mean to ask what's she trying to do to Hart?"
"Yeah, Hart." His sheepishness exposed what he really meant. "You know what I'm saying."
He pursed his lips. "I'm sure I know exactly what you meant."
After K4, he thought they had turned a new corner. He let his guard down, believing they'd exchange olive branches. The hope they'd renew a treasured friendship vanished like the wind of a passing storm.
Not only had she failed to heed his advice and shift Keep It Real to a kinder, gentler brand, but she'd also created a cold, heartless line that would fail emotionally, if not financially.
He feared she'd come to regret the line's success. In his estimation, she'd meet a far worse fate. Karma was an undeniable point of convergence. What goes around comes around. Negativity would be met with more of the same.
"Why didn't you tell me about Real Talk when you first heard about it? I'm paying you to keep an eye on what's happening over there."
"Excuse me? I told you weeks ago that Tessa was creating a new line. You told me not only were you aware of the line but also you approved it."
"I wha—" He took slow steps to his chair and sat down. As the scene replayed in his mind, Cody realized Kyle didn't deserve the blame for Real Talk—he did, and for more reasons than he cared to admit, the least of which was failing to consult with Tessa before buying her business.
"I'm sorry, man," he replied after a lengthy pause. "You're right. Absolutely right. This isn't your fault. It's on me."
He expelled a long breath and spun his chair around to take in the wintery view from the window. "You know what? Tessa wins. I give up. One way or the other, I'll rid myself and Hart Enterprises of the headache that is Tessa Sweet for good," he said. "If she thinks she can succeed without Hart, fine. Let her give it a whirl."
"C'mon, man, you know better. You can't dump the company now," Kyle said. His voice went high and then low again. "Talk about vindictive? Now that the going has gotten hard, you want to bail on her?"
Bail on her. Wouldn't be the first time, but the last should've been the last.
"If your conscience doesn't stop you, maybe this will: Cut Tessa loose, and you may as well hand-deliver to her all the ammunition she'd ever need to mount an expensive legal suit."
"She'd never sue me...I don't think."
"Maybe not, but you're letting your emotions get the best of you. This is not the businessman speaking."
"If not a businessman, then who's speaking?"
"A decent human being. You're respected, not only in this company but in the industry. You want to jeopardize that?"
Cody shook his head and tilted it downward, and Kyle just kept going in.
"The Cody I know wouldn't cause Keep It Real to fail, not intentionally. Tessa will call it a vendetta. She'll call you the 'bitter witch.’"
Kyle's words caught his attention.
"Even if that's not the whole truth, it's what I would tell my client to say. In fact, I'd go so far as to assert that her success led you to conspire against her all along."
Cody's lips tightened into a flat line, but he listened.
"The Cody I know would say he expected a bumpy integration. Let's give it time," Kyle continued. "The businessman would say neither he nor Hart Enterprises could afford another protracted legal battle after surviving his sisters’ war.”
"But I nev—"
"Listen, I understand that in the matter of Sweet versus Hart, the truth lies somewhere between fact and perception. I wouldn't be a good COO or friend if I didn't warn you of the consequences."
Consequences. He'd been so busy harping on Tessa's he hadn't taken much time to consider his own.
"You're right," he said. "Let me calm down and figure this out. I expected resistance. But I didn't prepare for outright mutiny."
"Do you want me to talk to her? Maybe I can convince her the line isn't the best strategy for Hart or her own business. If she doesn't listen to me, at least she'll hear me out."
"Humph. I realize you two have grown close," Cody grunted. "But, trust me, you don't know Tessa as well as you think you do."
Before Kyle could balk at Cody's assertion, Miss Dee knocked on the door and announced herself before entering.
"Sir?" She locked her eyes on Cody's.
"Yes, Ma'am, can this wait? We're in the
middle of...something."
She shook her head. "I wouldn't have interrupted except that I believe this would constitute an emergency."
"Okay, what is it?"
"A Hart Enterprise employee quit today. Apparently, she's not doing well emotionally. Joya Lawson."
"Joya? Wait, that name's familiar." He paused briefly and tapped his chin. "Oh, I remember! She's on Tessa's team. Is she okay? What happened?"
"An unfortunate relationship, depression, and an impulsive resignation. She's a bit distraught. Maybe a first heartbreak. They're pretty rough."
“They are, aren’t they. I’m sorry to hear that." Cody winced.
"Her mother called to say she was distraught when she quit. She didn't want Joya to lose her job."
"Of course, we'll hold her seat. That's the last thing she should be worried about."
The news rocked Cody more than he expected. He'd chalk that up to Tessa, too. He'd never suspect Joya was capable of falling into an emotional spiral.
He'd met her briefly only a couple of times, but she reminded him of a young Tessa. He had hopes that she'd become one of the strongest creators on the team, maybe rise to the level of Rice McHugh.
"Did she leave a phone number? Tessa will—"
That's when it struck him—Tessa.
She'd be upset. When she invested her energy in anything or anyone, it became a part of her.
A part of her, he repeated in his mind.
Before his lips could form the question, Ms. Dee chimed in.
"Mia called. Tessa's on the way to visit her; make sure everything's okay."
Instinctively, he wanted to jump out of his seat and run to Tessa's side. Then he took a hard look at Kyle. Maybe Tessa would want him there, in the place that used to be his. "Okay, please keep me apprised of any updates."
"Will do."
When Ms. Dee exited, Kyle peered at Cody. "I'm stunned, but I'm glad Tessa's there."
Kyle didn't budge or ask to leave. There was no urgency in his voice or manner—no effort to check on Tessa's state.
She didn't hire employees. She'd built a family. That's when another realization struck him. Losing control of Keep It Real didn't only threaten her livelihood and her vision but also her ability to protect those who meant the most.
