Hostile Makeover

by Wendy Wax

  She shuddered anew over the memory and treaded harder.

  “So even though I’ve been working my ass off for the last two months and have actually managed to do a really great job, I’m going to be out. And Ross Morgan, the double-crossing job-stealer, whom I had the bad judgment to sleep with, is going to make a ton of money from the sale and end up being president of a much larger agency.”

  The knowledge of her stupidity and his perfidy churned in her stomach and left a horrible sour taste in her mouth. She’d been had in every sense of the word. And pretty soon she was going to be a have-not.

  Howard Mellnick simply looked at her, still calm. “That’s a pretty good recap of what’s already happened, Shelley. My question was, what are you going to do about it?”

  “You mean other than crawling into my bed and assuming the fetal position?”

  “I mean, what do you plan to do now?”

  Shelley stopped treading water. It was way too hard anyway, and she wasn’t getting anywhere. Putting her head in her hands, she groaned like a very old person and rocked back and forth once or twice for good measure.

  The Mellnick just looked at her. She sensed he wanted to roll his eyes, but he just waited.

  “All right, all right,” she groaned. “God, you’re merciless.”

  “So, I repeat,” he said quietly, “what do you plan to do now?”

  Shelley forced herself to think about it. No treading, no dodging. It wasn’t easy with all the emotional garbage churning around inside: Ross’s betrayal, her father’s abandonment. All of it hurt so badly. And she felt so stupid.

  But as she prodded her wounds, she began to notice a very strange thing. While they were tender to the touch, were, in fact, quite painful, they didn’t feel . . . fatal.

  She might want to curl up in a ball. But she was not going to die.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I think I’m going to be OK,” she whispered, hearing the wonder in her voice.

  He smiled. “Could you say that a little louder?”

  “I’m . . . OK,” she said, amazed that it was true. “Kind of bruised and bloody. But OK.” She smiled back at him. “I mean, I’m not going to jump up, throw away my crutches, and shout ‘I’ve been healed!’ but I’m not going to fall apart, either.”

  “Good.” Again, his manner was calm and straightforward, but approval and pleasure were evident in his voice. “That’s very good.”

  Shelley sat up straighter. And somehow the load that had been weighing her down lightened. She was going to be OK. She was not going to run out and shoot herself in the foot. Or suddenly revert to the screwup she’d been. Her father might not be able to see the changes that had taken place in her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Dr. Mellnick looked into her eyes and gave her a last encouraging smile. “All you have to do now is move forward. Today you took two steps back, but as I believe Scarlett O’Hara once said, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’ ”

  chapter 28

  Shelley spent the afternoon wrestling with her thoughts. Most of them were unpleasant and many were humiliating; she had to keep fast-forwarding past them so that they didn’t drag her all the way down. By early evening, she’d drafted a letter of resignation. It was curt and to the point, as coldly professional as she could make it. She intended to deliver it to Ross Morgan in the morning; her only regret was that she couldn’t nail it onto his forehead or superglue it to his ass.

  She spent the rest of the evening at the kitchen table composing a letter to her father. For hours she agonized over each word of each draft, until she gave up at midnight with nothing to show for her time but a pile of crumpled paper.

  Riddled with regrets, she paced her living room, unable to halt the litany of if-onlys. If only she’d taken herself seriously from the beginning, if only she hadn’t let others’ assumptions about her become reality, if only she’d stayed away from Ross Morgan. There were a million of them, but those three stood head and shoulders above the rest. They formed a recriminatory loop that replayed endlessly in her mind. Sinking into her club chair, she stared out her window into the darkness, and tried not to listen.

  “Are you all right?” Judy sat down on the couch. She wore a pale pink peignoir and matching bedroom slippers. Her eyes were sleepy, and she, too, appeared to be focused inward.

  “Not really. How about you?”

  “I feel like I’m standing at this great crossroads and the next step I take will alter things forever. I’m so afraid of stepping out in the wrong direction.”

  “I know what you mean.” Shelley’s first step had been her decision to resign before they chucked her out, but choosing a new path meant taking more steps. This time she was determined to weigh her choices carefully; no more leaping before she looked.

  “You know,” Judy said, rising, “I ended up here with you sort of by default. But despite the reasons for my coming, and the fact that my life seems to be pretty much in the toilet, I’m glad we’ve had this time with each other.” She stopped in front of Shelley.

  “Me, too,” Shelley said, reaching out her hand and letting her sister pull her up. “I can’t believe it took me so long to figure out what a dynamite sister I have.”

  Judy’s hand was smaller, the bones more delicate, but Shelley imagined she could feel Judy’s inner strength. It was then that the realization hit her: The Schwartz sisters were a whole lot stronger than they’d been led to believe.

  “Gee,” she said, slipping her arm around Judy’s shoulder, “I feel like we should break into a chorus of ‘We Are Family’ or something.”

  Judy hugged Shelley with all that hidden strength. “If I could reach the top of your head, I’d give you a couple of noogies to make you appreciate the solemnity of this moment.”

  “Right.” Her sister’s acceptance warmed her, made her stronger still. “You and what army?”

  In her room Shelley slipped into bed and felt a new resolve fill her. Judy was facing her new life head-on; there was no reason why she couldn’t do the same. The time had come to stop talking and dithering about what had been, and focus instead on what might be.

  In the morning Shelley deposited her things on her desk and marched to Ross Morgan’s office.

  “Is he in?” she asked his secretary for the second day in a row.

  Mia looked nervous, which was understandable in view of yesterday’s fiasco. “Yes, um, let me let him know you’re here,” she said.

  Shelley offered no argument. One office-storming and humiliation per week seemed sufficient.

  This time when Mia nodded her in, Shelley walked sedately through the double doors and looked carefully about the room before she approached the desk. Which was kind of like closing the barn door after all the horses were gone.

  “So,” he said.

  “So.” She dropped the letter on his desk and waited while he opened it. “This is my resignation. I’d like to stay for the next two weeks so that I can see the Tire World grand opening through and interface with Brian Simms while his commercials are in postproduction. I’ll get my other accounts ready for whoever’s going to take them over.”

  She could see she’d managed to surprise him. Evidently he’d assumed they’d have to drag her out the door screaming and kicking.

  “There’s no reason to rush this.” His voice was devoid of emotion. “It’ll take months for the sale to go through, and another few months for everything to get sorted out.”

  “No, thanks. Two weeks should do it.”

  “You know, I didn’t mean for—” Ross began.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She gave him her best Kate Hepburn shrug. “You won, I lost. Game over.”

  She’d accomplished what she came for. Now was the time to spin around on her heel and leave. But her feet felt rooted to the floor.

  He considered her for a moment out of serious blue eyes. She would have felt better if he were laughing, or thumbing his nose at her. A shouting match would make things
even easier. But all he said was, “What will you do next?”

  This, of course, was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, the very one she kept asking herself. But she didn’t owe Ross Morgan any explanations. “That would belong in the category of ‘none of your business.’ ”

  He took the jab without flinching. If she’d hoped to stir his anger, she’d failed. But then, what was a little lip from her at this point? He’d already won all the marbles; she was going to have to pack up the few she had left and go home.

  “For what it’s worth,” he said, “you surprised me. I think you’ve been doing a good job. If it were up to me I’d—”

  “What?” she snapped, not at all interested in his pity. “Tell my father he made a mistake? Admit there were two of us in that bedroom? Warn me we weren’t alone?”

  Silently she dared him to acknowledge the intimacy of the night they’d spent together. Or allude again to the unwelcome chemistry that even now filled the air between them. He did neither.

  “You can’t pretend I didn’t try to warn you.” His laugh was totally devoid of humor. “I did everything but duct-tape your mouth shut.”

  She hated that he was right; hated that she’d been the instigator of her own demise; hated that she’d been so focused on him and what she’d wanted to say that she’d been oblivious to everything else. Hated that even now, when he was the victor and she was the vanquished, she was so completely and totally aware of him.

  She wanted desperately to pace, to move, to work off some of her tension, but she forced herself to stay put. “I guess you can comfort yourself with the fact that I came to your hotel room. Maybe you should sue me for sexual harassment. Pick up a few extra bucks. But then, you won’t need any more money, will you? The sale of my family’s company should set you up for life.”

  He flushed, but whether it was with anger or embarrassment she didn’t know. Nor did she plan to stick around and find out. She turned and left the office. Two weeks from now she’d walk out of this place forever. Then she’d never have to set sight on his face again.

  Shelley spent the rest of the morning in her office making lists and plotting out her last two weeks of employment. The Tire World grand opening would take place the Friday night of her last day of work, and there were a slew of details she wanted to go over with Judy. Then she needed to meet with Luke about the status of Creative on her other accounts, and begin initial conversations about the presentation to Selena Moore.

  Someone else would take this over when she left, but for the next two weeks the project was hers. Even the possibility of landing the Selena Moore Boutiques account would up the price Miller was willing to pay Harvey Schwartz for the agency. The fact that Ross Morgan would also benefit was a great big cross she’d have to bear.

  Again, thoughts of her father swamped her, threatening her resolve. His low opinion of her hurt and though she continued to remind herself that it was, at last, unfounded, it continued to hurt all the same. She feared she’d relive the look of horror and disappointment on his face until her own dying day; some sick sort of karmic retribution for all the times she’d promised to change, but hadn’t.

  She’d cried wolf one too many times.

  At eleven her phone rang. Lost in her To Do list, she reached for it automatically and brought the receiver up to her ear.

  “When are you going to send your sister home where she belongs?”

  “Hi, Mom. How are you? Beautiful weather we’re having.” She sighed. When her mother was on a mission, she wasted no time on niceties.

  “Beautiful, shmutiful! I don’t know what’s going on with this family. Your sister’s acting like a silly schoolgirl, you’re sleeping with the help, and your father is absolutely beside himself, which we all know is not good for him. And on top of that your friend Nina’s out there snatching up all the available Jewish men. This has got to stop.”

  Shelley switched the phone to her other ear. For the first time she almost appreciated her mother’s ability to cut through the details to succinctly state her complaints; a breath of fresh air after her own endless agonizing. “And what would you like me to do about all those things?” she asked.

  “Fix them. Send Judy home. Make up with your father. Otherwise I’m going to have to take things into my own hands.”

  The ultimate threat; her mother rewriting everyone’s parts in the Schwartz Family Soap Opera.

  “And tell Nina to leave a few men for you.”

  “OK.”

  There was a stunned silence while her mother processed Shelley’s too-rapid capitulation. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’ll try.” Shelley smiled to herself. For the first time in memory her goals and her mother’s were very much the same. “Although I’m not sure I’m the one who needs to be making up with Dad. And of course I’ll need a few things in return.”

  There was a silence while her mother processed this. In dealing with her mother, negotiation was often required but it was rarely acknowledged. “For one thing, I need you to invite a few extra people for Passover.”

  This year Passover began the week after the Tire World grand opening—the point at which she would no longer be gainfully employed.

  “Passover?” her mother asked.

  The Schwartz family celebration of the Jews’ freedom from slavery in Egypt was legendary. Every year her mother filled tables full of friends and family as well as others with nowhere else to observe the holiday.

  “I’ll make sure Nina leaves a few men ‘un-wowed’ if you’ll invite her, Rabbi Jordan, and Howard Mellnick to the seder.” Shelley could practically hear Miriam Schwartz’s mind working. “But only if you think you can squeeze them in,” she said, trying not to smile. Three extra people at this year’s Passover seder would be the equivalent of three additional grains of sand in the Sahara.

  “I’ll invite them,” her mother said. “As to the rest, I’ll give you two weeks before I step in.”

  There was a brief pause. “Nina doesn’t really want to be Jewish, does she? I mean, don’t get me wrong, we are the chosen people. But it doesn’t always feel like such a privilege.”

  “I know, Mom. I don’t really understand it myself,” Shelley replied. “But for some wacky reason, Nina Olson wants a family just like ours.”

  Despite Shelley’s attempts to set up a meeting by phone, her brother-in-law managed to dodge her for a full day and a half. By noon on Thursday she realized her mistake; she’d been trying to make an appointment like a civilized human being. It was time to pull a sneak attack.

  Trying not to think about how badly her storming of Ross’s office had gone, she presented herself to Craig’s secretary right after lunch.

  “Is he tied up?” she asked.

  The secretary consulted the agenda in front of her. “Um, no.” She reached for the intercom. “Let me tell him you’re here.”

  Shelley’s hand reached the buzzer first. “Let’s not do that.” The secretary pulled her hand back and Shelley took advantage of her momentary confusion. “I’ve got a surprise for him from my sister. And I don’t want to spoil it.”

  “But—”

  “It’ll be fine.” She was already headed for Craig’s office door. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

  When she entered, Craig was leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk, staring out the window at his impressive view of downtown Atlanta. At the sound of the door, he turned and dropped his feet to the floor. He didn’t look at all happy to see her.

  “Gee,” she said, “I hate to interrupt when you’re so busy.”

  He flushed.

  “Is this what you were doing when you said you were too busy to see me?” She plopped down into the chair across from his desk, uninvited. “Or when Judy wanted to talk?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Well, actually, it is. Because your wife is my sister. And she’s living in my home, which by the way is now incredibly well organized. And she’s looking real har
d at her marriage. Don’t you think you should be a part of that?”

  He straightened and his face flushed again. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are trying to tell me what to do about a relationship. When’s the last time you actually had a relationship that lasted longer than six months? Or went out with anyone who was even remotely suitable?”

  “Strange, isn’t it?” she agreed. “But the fact is, Judy’s left you and if you don’t DO something to convince her otherwise, she might not be coming back.”

  That one definitely rocked him. He sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know what’s come over her. She’s not at all the woman I married.”

  He looked so perplexed Shelley almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. The man had been taking her sister for granted and he needed a good, swift kick in the rear end.

  “No, she’s not the same woman you married. She’s growing and evolving; I think she’s become interesting as hell. All you really have to do is open up enough to discuss what she needs from you. And you could tell her what you need, too. It doesn’t have to be a one-way street.”

  She almost choked over the words. They were so obvious, yet when had she ever followed such advice? She’d never even been in a situation that warranted the effort.

  She could see that he found the idea shocking, too. But his reluctance was tinged with something else.

  “You don’t think she’s slept with that O’Connor guy, do you?”

  It was clear he needed the answer to be no, but Shelley wasn’t in the reassurance business. “I don’t actually know, Craig. But if I were you I’d get in touch with Judy as soon as possible and let her know you want to try to work things out. Then I’d try a little groveling. And flowers, flowers are always good. Judy deserves to feel appreciated.”