“This morning?”
Again Craig was not listening to me. “He’s right. I finally agreed on Friday, but . . .” He waved his hand at the door. “Do you know how much I laid out for her? The money? The options?” He dropped his head again. “Do you have any idea how much this is going to hurt us?” His words were muffled by the laptop. He popped up again. “Stay, Mary. You’re right about every aspect of this company and you can’t leave. What will it take?”
“I’m not sure I understand. You’re firing Karen? Did Nathan know this?”
“He’s been working for it. It’s been our one point of contention and he was right. Other investors raised concerns too, but, like I said, I paid so much.” Craig blew out a long breath. “We had a good-bye party for Nathan Friday, then I hired him again to see us through this. No one knows that, by the way.”
I plopped into the chair I’d just vacated. Benson’s laptop was in my hands. There was a sticker of E=MC2 on the cover.
“You know what I want, Mary. It’ll be leaner for a while, but we’ll get to do what we do best, even if it’s by the seat of our pants. But what do you want to do?” Craig picked up the pen he normally rolled through his fingers and started a helicopter whirl.
“I want to stay.”
He stared at me. He deserved more.
“Craig, that was a pretty bad e-mail I sent, and I’m sorry. The five years alone deserved more respect. But the one place I felt good suddenly wasn’t mine anymore. At least it didn’t feel that way . . . I love my job and I think I do it well. May I stay?”
“Thank you.” He closed his eyes as if cycling through a change in plans. “I feel like we’re beginning again. Can you feel it?”
I laughed. “Maybe we are. You need to get Rodriguez back too.”
“On it right now.” He reached for his phone, then flicked it toward the door. “Get out of here and make sure everyone knows you’re staying. I’m tired of all the grim faces. And if he’s still in Conference Room A, grab Nathan and send him in here.”
Nathan? Here?
As I left the room, I heard Craig chuckle. “It’s a whole new ball game now.”
I leaned against the wall outside Craig’s office and took in the entire company before me. Working at WATT hadn’t started with a proactive decision; it had started in an elevator with Craig pursuing me. And I perpetuated that fallacy—I didn’t choose the job, it chose me—for five years. It was false because I’d chosen WATT too—I’d made it mine each and every day as I woke up and brought my best to work. It wasn’t just a job. It was my job. And these were my people. My home.
I looked toward the office’s far corner. Karen’s cubicle. She always had an arched reading lamp on when she was there. It was off. I looked across the cubicle walls and didn’t see her blond-gray bob and green-rimmed glasses. I didn’t see Nathan either. The door to Conference Room A was open; the room was empty.
I walked back toward my own cubicle to find Moira.
“There you are.” Moira rounded the corner and met me. “I brought this for you. It’s almost gone, and you need a piece of your own good-bye cake.”
“Gone?”
“You were in there almost an hour, and when Karen came storming out, people got scared and scattered. Dottie cut your cake up to calm the troops.” Moira pulled her lips tight in mock fright. “Word is you were shouting.”
“I think I might have been at one point. It was not my finest moment.”
Moira lifted her eyebrows as if to say, Debatable. I suspected she was weighing the shouting against my e-mail. Both looked bad.
“But I’m staying.”
“How? Karen won’t forgive you after that . . .” As her statement trailed, she drew a breath. “The Wicked Witch of the West?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
Moira nodded like a small child waiting for cake.
“Going.”
She yelped and leapt at me, catching the cake before it toppled. “I can’t believe it.” Her hug caught me in a half laugh, half hiccup.
“And you said you hated me.”
“I already said that was a lie.” She pushed me away, then punched me in the arm with her free hand. “Girl, I didn’t know how I was going to survive without you, and now . . . It’s like Christmas.”
“I feel the same.” I pulled her into another hug. “Hey—Craig said to send Nathan in. Is he here?”
“He was earlier, I guess. Benson just said he talked to him.”
The excitement and the air seeped away. As I stepped back, Moira shot me a questioning glance.
“I wish I’d gotten to see him, that’s all, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll let Craig know he’s gone. How late are you staying?”
“I’m not.” She glanced at her phone. “The usual suspects are headed to Z’Tejas. A friend of mine works there and is holding a big table on the patio for us. It was supposed to be your good-bye party.”
“Go. I’ll tell Craig and be right behind you.”
“You don’t mind? I want to make sure we get our table.” Moira hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.
“We’d take two cars anyway. Go.”
Moira headed one direction and I the other.
Chapter 28
I arrived at Z’Tejas an hour late.
When I’d told Craig that Nathan wasn’t around, I got only a quick wave before he started tapping on his phone. He was most likely calling Nathan—which is exactly what I wanted to do. I sat at my desk staring at my phone for fifteen minutes, ordering myself to call him. I finally gave up. My self-recriminations and MoPac ate the next forty-five.
Moira ordered another round of nachos upon my arrival, and we sat back and listened to Benson tell the team how Golightly was going to set WATT on fire—figuratively this time.
He glanced at me and hesitated. “It’s your work, Mary. You should talk.”
I shook my head. “It’s all you. Moira and I are perfectly content over here.”
He grinned and returned to their discussion. Work never ended with this crew—and that was part of the fun.
Moira slid me a margarita. “I ordered it when you said you were looking for parking.”
“Thank you.” I took a sip of the top layer, which had already melted.
“There’s tons to cover here, but first things first. You’re staying, Karen’s going?”
“So it seems. Craig wants a new CEO. He wants to design again.”
She gave me a sideways smile. “Expensive wish.”
“He said that too.”
“So we take a hit now; it’s better than the alternative. And with Golightly, it might not be more than a blip.”
I lifted my glass. “To another innovative WATT product.”
Moira joined me. “To the Vertex.”
I’d forgotten that nickname. We’d called ourselves that back in the garage, back when we celebrated our first product, earned our first paycheck, and knew we would make it—we were the top of the top.
“I need to tell you about England, Nathan, everything.”
Moira pulled her neck back. Nathan and England in the same sentence was a surprise. For the next two hours, I told her everything. At some point most of the guys left, and Benson pulled his chair close.
“He kissed you knowing you were getting fired?” That’s when I noticed Benson.
“Not quite. I mean it wasn’t like that.”
“It wasn’t close to like that.” I looked up. We all did.
Nathan stood behind me. He looked good. Tired, but good. Except his eyes—the dim lighting darkened them. Or anger. I flashed mine to Moira.
“I probably should have mentioned I texted him.” She looked between us. “I thought maybe you’d want to celebrate that you were staying, or say good-bye. You weren’t in the office for his last day Friday, and you said earlier you didn’t see him. But I guess you did, didn’t you? Except I didn’t know that.”
“It’s okay, Moira.” Nathan spoke to her, but he watched me.
>
Without another word, Moira scooted to a nearby empty table. Benson followed her.
Nathan pulled her vacated chair farther away from mine and sat down.
“You didn’t call. I didn’t know you were at WATT.” I tapped his knee just to touch him.
Nathan said nothing.
“Are you going to talk to me?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t going to talk to you.” He slid his messenger bag to the ground and shrugged out of his jacket.
Moira placed a beer in front of him.
He glanced up and thanked her. I sent her a wobbly smile. She threw me an encouraging one and drifted back to the two-top behind us.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Karen?” I scooted my chair one inch closer.
“Nothing to tell until Craig committed, and it wasn’t my place once he did. We worked all weekend to restructure around her.”
“But . . .”
“I needed time, Mary. What was I supposed to do? Call you and tell you everything was fine now? Beg you not to quit? Beg you to talk to me? To trust me? I already asked those things of you.”
“True. And when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound good.”
“It didn’t feel good either. But since you’re staying now, I guess I’ll need to get used to you. Craig signed me on for a short-term engagement while he finds a new CEO. He’ll announce it to you all in a couple days, so please keep it quiet until then.”
“That’s—” I wanted to say wonderful, exciting, but his closed expression killed my enthusiasm and my hope—and the “used to you” was not encouraging.
Till this moment, I never knew myself.
I laid my hand on Nathan’s knee. He didn’t shirk away—a good sign. “Nathan? Nothing is what I thought.”
“And yet you were so sure.” Nathan sank, like all his bones had suddenly softened. “If you’d have talked to me, Mary, and given me a chance, I would’ve told you something. Not everything, I couldn’t have done that, but I was on your side.” He took a breath; it came out on a sigh. “You said I didn’t see you for a year. But what did you do to me? You had all these ideas in your head, and those were more important to you than trusting me and giving me a chance.”
“You’re right.” I focused on my hand. It was easier than looking into his eyes. “I was so busy licking my wounds from who knows how long ago, and somehow they were all wrapped up in Isabel and Golightly, and life seeped into my work and I couldn’t ask Benson or Rodriguez for help. And what’s worse? I blamed everyone else, and that didn’t feel good. When I heard you on the phone, it felt like the punishment was deserved and I was justified in running away. It oddly felt like the most courageous thing I could do.”
I shot Benson and Moira an apologetic look. It was clear they were eavesdropping. They both smiled as if they’d known all along and had already forgiven me. Their grace gave me the courage to continue. “When you share stuff, especially your heart, you can lose it.”
Nathan watched me with a look of disbelief.
“I know . . . You know that. It just took me time to understand it was worth it.” I glanced back to Moira and Benson, but I spoke to Nathan. “I’m very sorry.”
I shifted my chair to fully face him and to cut our audience from my sight line. “Did Craig tell you Benson solved Golightly’s power problem? It was as easy as you said it would be.”
“He did?” Nathan perked up. Benson shook his head and pointed at me. “You did?”
I couldn’t stop my grin. “I was running yesterday, and the bats all flew from under the bridge in a series of waves. Almost two million bats, and at some points, it was just a cloud. You couldn’t see the individuals. They were beautiful en masse, and I knew it fit. It fit Golightly and it fit me—and all I wanted to do was share it with you. But after the way I left, I didn’t—call you, that is. I did e-mail Benson.”
“About the bats?”
“No. Yes. About the fact that they flew out in waves and that I knew it meant something important, that the individuals remained individuals, but were more powerful in a group. That was for Benson. But also, they were amazing and oddly beautiful when together. That’s what I wanted to share with you, because I didn’t know if you’d seen them or the Stevie Ray Vaughan statue. And I knew you’d love both because . . . I love you and I was sad you weren’t running with me to see it all and I was afraid you might be gone.”
Nathan cracked a smile.
“What?”
“I’ll say it again; what must it be like to live in your head?” Now he was watching me with such a tender look, my bones went soft.
“Again, I’m sorry, Nathan.”
“I am too.”
I threw my arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.
“You quit your job.” He laughed, a mix of exhaustion, exasperation, and affection. “Craig sent me your e-mail, by the way. It was very decisive. I thought you were headed to Boston.”
I scrunched my nose. “I know and I would be, but Karen made me so angry I lost it. It wasn’t so much about me—I was still heading out the door at that point. It was about everybody else. All your questions came back to me, and I finally understood what you were asking me to see—like the bats becoming one.” I glanced over to two implausibly blank faces. I focused on Nathan. “I shut my eyes to all of it and I didn’t do justice to anyone, least of all you.”
“I took on a new client Friday.”
“You just said. WATT.”
“That happened over the weekend. I took one in Boston, at half my rate so I could secure the work fast. Three days a week for the next six months.”
“Why?” I sat up straight.
He narrowed his eyes.
“No, really, I was horrible. I left you standing there.”
“You were. You were stubborn and dreadful and annoying.” He chuckled. “But I know you, Mary. I’ve known you for a year and I love you. I thought some time in Boston might help you believe it.”
I threw my arms around him again.
This time he dropped a kiss on my forehead. “What are we going to do?”
“Are you kidding? Skype, FaceTime, phone, text, e-mail, snail mail, and direct flights. We’re going to be fine. And you’ll be at WATT two days, plus there are weekends. Six months will fly by.”
He twisted his chair to face me. “Promise?”
Our knees now wove together. My beige pants. His dark jeans. They looked like piano keys.
I trailed a finger across the colors. “No. At least I hope not. I think I’d like to savor the next six months, if you don’t mind—each and every moment with you.”
He looped one hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close. He tasted like Chapstick and bubble gum. He pulled a breath away. “Starting now.” Then he kissed me again.
There was faint clapping and a whispered wolf whistle nearby.
“Benson,” I whispered against his lips.
“Benson,” he whispered against mine.
We ignored Benson.
. . . The wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.
—JANE AUSTEN, EMMA
Acknowledgments
Thank you to everyone who makes this journey possible . . .
First, I offer thanks and forever friendship to Daisy Hutton. We started this journey together with Dear Mr. Knightley and, though she’s moved on to new publishing adventures, she put her mark on this story and my heart. Thank you, my dear friend.
The incredible team at HCCP is next–Amanda Bostic, my new and amazing publisher; editors Becky Monds, LB Norton, and Jodi Hughes; Kristen Ingebretson and the design team; Paul Fisher and the amazing sales team who work tirelessly to get these stories into your hands; Kristen Golden and Allison Carter, who get special shout-outs. Kristen shares her marketing acumen, excellent taste in books, and extraordinary glow and glitter with me—and I’m the bette
r for it. Allison, with her sweet smile and incredible knowledge, gets me out into the world—and I’m the better for that too.
Thanks also to Claudia Cross, agent, mentor, and friend; Elizabeth Lane, first, last, and all-stages-in-the-middle reader; Kristy Cambron and Sarah Ladd, who make each day brighter; and Mason, Matthew, Elizabeth, and Mary Margaret . . . Yes, the players on Team Reay have real names—and amazing hearts—and always pick up what I fail to do with incredible grace.
Last, but never least . . . thank you. Thank you to the readers, bloggers, reviewers, and now friends who have generously picked up these novels and trusted me with your hearts and time. Thank you for joining me and reaching out, meeting me on social media or in person.
Again and again, I’m beyond grateful to share The Austen Escape with you.
Discussion Questions
1.At the beginning of the story, Mary is clearly proficient in her work. She gets the job done, but is now stymied by an important project and in jeopardy. Why do you think it has come to this point?
2.Isabel and Mary met at age eight. Is it so unusual for the dynamic of a friendship to freeze within a moment of time? How does that influence how we see the world and our place in it?
3.Is The Austen Escape a qualified tribute to Jane Austen and our appropriate of her stories? What would Mary say? Isabel? Gertrude?
4.The idea of perspective and vision—what one can and can’t see—is offered time and again. It’s given a tangible symbol in Golightly. What can/can’t Mary see? What about Isabel?
5.The Austen Escape offers up the idea of “hiding places” or escapes. Within stories is one example. What other hiding places does it offer, and how important are such escapes in life? Would you agree with Gertrude that they “can be dangerous”?
6.Is everyone in the story “hiding”? What does that say about the need to escape and recover?
The Austen Escape Page 25
