Turbulence

by E. J. Noyes

  “Thank you, Penny,” I murmured, almost to myself. Funny that she’d pretty much confirmed what Dr. Baker and I had worked through during therapy. “Any ideas of what I should do?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light and joking. It came out a little deranged sounding instead.

  “Keep trying,” Pen said simply. “She can’t bear the thought of not being needed. And she wants you to need her, Ms. Rhodes.”

  Before bed I called Audrey one last time. I’d always thought her voice mail greeting was strangely formal, but now I felt the coolness of it like a wall. Telling me she’d get back to me felt like an unfulfilled promise. As I listened to her recorded message, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

  “It’s me. Again. Please call me. I’m worried about you and your mama. Hope everything’s okay. I, uh…I miss you.” I swallowed hard. “A whole lot, and I’m sorry.” I hung up before I said what I really wanted to. I love you. I didn’t want the first time I uttered those words to be in a voice mail. I wanted to look into her eyes, and have her feel how much I meant what I was saying.

  I slept a few disjointed hours, dragging myself into the office before everyone else as usual. The day blurred, still without contact from Audrey. My saviors were concealer for dark shadows and eye drops to reduce the gritty redness of my exhaustion. Contacts out, glasses on.

  I ate without tasting, putting food in my mouth only because Mark brought lunch into my office and sat with me to make sure I finished. This was nothing like when Steph left. Then, I was relieved, like I’d lanced a boil. With Audrey gone, I was broken.

  My lawyer had called as soon as his office opened to let me know he’d read the contract, and wished to make a few changes. Reluctantly, I’d agreed. It was good business, but not good friendship.

  Mark’s door was partially closed. I knocked, then peered through the gap. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  I closed the door, double checked it and crossed to him. Even in the bubble of his office, I kept my voice low. “I’ve spoken to my lawyer, and there are a few changes I have to insist on before I sign.”

  He didn’t seem surprised. “Okay, lay it on me.”

  “Firstly, I’m offering you forty-five percent, not the forty-seven you stipulated.”

  “I see. May I ask why?” He wasn’t so much angry as curious.

  “Because I’m going to have to take an initial commission cut to sweeten the changeover of your clients. Particularly those three that you’ve admitted to mishandling.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I want an indemnity clause protecting my company in the event of any future legal action from your ex-clients. There may turn out to be more who make a similar claim, once word gets out. If it comes back to bite me in the ass, you have to be financially accountable for it. I love you, Mark but I can’t be responsible for your mistakes.”

  He turned slowly side to side in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll have to speak to Quentin.”

  “Of course.”

  Mark and I stared silently at one another until he smiled, a slow smile as though he was remembering something pleasant. “Belle?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re already acting like the boss.”

  * * *

  I called Mama once I’d arrived home, had a short workout and showered. Lying in bed staring up at the ceiling with the phone resting on the pillow beside my ear, I gave her the bare bones version of the past few days. Mama was a mix of upset about Mark and excited, apprehensive and supporting about my transition from equal partner to sole owner.

  After five minutes of excited rambling, with me interjecting as appropriate, she paused and said accusingly, “You’re not as excited as you’d have me believe, Bunny. What else is goin’ on up there?”

  I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me, and managed, “Audrey and I fought. She’s gone.” Then I burst into tears. Again.

  Mama tried—and mostly failed—to soothe me as I sobbed and hiccupped, trying to explain what happened. What I’d done. How she’d left and I’d made her do it. I felt like I’d stepped into a leaky dinghy, cut the rope and drifted out into rough seas with no idea how to get back to shore.

  Mama’s voice was thick with emotion. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” There was a long pause and I knew she was weighing her words, trying to figure out how to approach what she knew would rile me. “But you need to stop pushin’ people away.”

  “Don’t, Mama. Please don’t.” I was so defeated, I couldn’t bear to have her digging into me as well.

  “I’m serious, Bunny and you need to listen. This is about your daddy, and you know it is. You can’t stand the thought of someone not needin’ you, so you make sure they don’t. Easier if you’re not attached.”

  “Please stop. I can’t.” What she said made no sense because I already was attached.

  “You can, and you will,” she said forcefully. “Just because he left, that doesn’t mean shit, baby. He didn’t want to be tied down to anyone or anything. It had nothing to do with you and you need to stop this thinkin’ you’re not worth anything to anyone because of him.”

  I kept silent, swiping tears that spilled over anew. Audrey and I both had issues with our fathers, so who better to understand the conflict I had about mine? But I still hadn’t really told her just how badly screwed up I was about my father skipping out on us. Didn’t want her thinking less of me, I guess. Didn’t want her thinking even my father didn’t want to be around me.

  Mama sniffed. “I should have done better, I could have explained more but I guess my pride was too damned hurt, thinkin’ I could change him and not being able to. In the end, when I finally accepted it, so much time had passed that I just didn’t know how to talk to you ’bout him. All that shit’s on him. Not you. Not me. It’s him.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Mama.” I rolled over and fumbled for the tissues beside the bed. “I can’t see a way ’round it right now.”

  “You gotta apologize and make it right, Bunny. I bet you never even told her all about your daddy.” She sighed.

  A long pause while I blew my nose. “Not everything.”

  “Well, there’s a place to start. It doesn’t excuse it, but it sure goes a ways to explaining it. You’re so scared he’s gonna come back because of what you got, not who you are. It poisons everything. Makes you hide things.”

  “She’s ignorin’ me. What if she’s finished?” I choked down a sob. “I’ve done an awful thing.”

  “Oh no. She could never be finished with you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You’re oxygen. You’re keepin’ her alive. I bet she’s suffocating without you, just like you are without her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Friday at two p.m., and in the company of our various legal teams, Mark and I signed an updated contract with everything I’d insisted upon embedded within pages of legalese. Congratulations, Isabelle. You’re on your own. Panic and sadness were fighting for dominance while excitement stared on, waiting for a chance to jump in and break things up.

  Once we’d seen our visitors out, Mark followed me into my office, a piece of paper held delicately between his fingertips. “Tom had this statement prepared. Can you take a look before we send it?”

  The release was only one paragraph of standard spin. Personal issues, branching out and wanting new opportunities, strength and ability of the remaining founder Isabelle Rhodes, continued success of the company, blah blah blah.

  I passed the paper back. “Looks good. We’ll hold it over until Monday, otherwise it’ll be calls from reporters all weekend. How many more of your clients do you need to contact?”

  “Seven. I’ll have it done by close of business today.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at the time. It was too late to gather all the employees for a formal meeting today but I needed to calm the undercurrent that had been growing in the office. And I needed to do it soon. I knew that they were starting to talk. G
ossip was a low hum that seemed to rise and fall as I moved through the office, like someone twisting a volume knob back and forth.

  I blinked a few times, trying to clear my dry eyes. “I want to tell everyone here now and shut down any disquiet. Then we’ll have a meeting and a farewell of sorts with all the staff on Monday. You’ll be there?” After his confirmatory nod, I added, “And we’ll need to speak to Clare and Tamara.” Assuming Tamara wanted to stay, she would become my second PA. Clare would have to teach her the ins and outs of working for me instead of Mark—including Mama-wrangling.

  I ducked out of my office, interrupting Clare who was scarfing down lunch. “Clare? Can you please tell everyone in the office to come to the conference room in twenty minutes? And schedule a meeting here for all employees, including transport staff Monday afternoon at four. Please arrange an open bar and dinner at Ricardo’s for afterward, maybe four forty-five.”

  I drafted an email for those not in attendance, and was standing at the head of the table when the nine office staff filed into the conference room. Some had notepads and pens, but they all had a similar facial expression. Dread. Mark stood to my left, his hands loose at his sides and his face impassive. The announcement would come from me, but he would answer any questions.

  There was no point in delaying. I let my fingertips rest on the table top, drew a deep breath and dove in. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the parade of guests coming and going from the office this week. As of an hour ago, I have taken over Mark Hall’s share in Rhodes and Hall and next week he is leaving us. This information has not been made public yet. A press statement will be released Monday, and until then I’d like to remind you of the Confidential Disclosure Agreements you have all signed as part of your employment contract. I know I can rely on you all to understand the importance and sensitivity of these developments.” In my haste, the words came out more harshly than I’d intended.

  Looking around the room, I caught their stricken faces and tried to soften what I was saying. “I ask that you please trust me, and I’ll have more information for you on Monday when everyone is here in person. Thank you.”

  * * *

  With every call Mark made to inform his clients, it seemed I received a reciprocal call to either tell me they would be moving their portfolios to me, or apologizing about taking the offer to terminate their contract. After consulting with Tom, I’d decided to offer termination without penalty if clients wanted it. There was no point in damaging the company image by insisting they move their accounts to my care.

  By the time I’d finished expressing my regret for those who were parting ways, and reassuring the ones who were staying that their investments were safe and Mark’s departure would not affect the company, I was so drained I couldn’t have explained to someone how to boil water.

  Mark was right, almost eighty percent of his clients decided to move their accounts to me. The relief was palpable, but I also felt the weight of it like something on my back, crushing me. This was it, my do or die moment.

  Christopher’s text was a bright spot in a dreary day. All hail the Queen! You. Me. New work wardrobe.

  I have a “work wardrobe” and it’s too early for new season’s wear.

  Zip it emoji. We’re going next level. Hold onto your tits. Kiss emoji. Very rude string of emojis.

  Nat’s call half an hour before the office closed was another welcome relief. “Have you heard from Audrey yet?”

  “No.” After four days with absolutely no contact, I’d resigned myself to the fact that she and I had broken up. And I didn’t know how to feel about it. Mostly I just felt numb, until something would happen that reminded me of her, like the night before when I found her How to Train Your Dragon DVD. I sat on the floor, hugging it and crying for ten minutes. The feeling of missing her was so acute that my chest actually hurt.

  “Well. Fuck that. I’m sorry, Rhodes.”

  “Me too. I just wish—” I cut myself off. “Never mind. I don’t want to get into it at work, Nat.”

  “Fair enough. So the sale’s all finalized? Got the keys to your shiny new company?”

  I’d called her in a panic the night before, because I needed to talk to someone who was out of the fray and who understood. “Yes. We’re making the formal announcement on Monday, having a staff meeting and then Mark’s leaving.”

  “High five to stepping up to the plate.” A soft tap sounded in my ear. “Come on, Rhodes, lift your hand, I know you haven’t.”

  I tapped the bottom of my phone with a finger. “There. Phone high five, you weirdo.”

  Nat laughed. “Hey you did it too. You’re just as much a weirdo as me.”

  She was such a goof. A goof who was also a smart and intuitive market analyst. Planting my foot against the edge of my desk, I swung myself side to side. “Tell me, Nat, exactly how much do you hate your boss and California…”

  * * *

  I’d called in a favor to get a reservation at Per Se, and that night I took Mark out for dinner and a last hurrah of sorts. It didn’t feel particularly cheerful. He was reserved, but every now and then something seemed to crack through our tension and it was almost like nothing between us had changed. And then he’d withdraw back into himself. I didn’t have the energy to go after him. After dessert, I knew there would be no lingering over coffee or cognac.

  He still hadn’t told me what he planned to do. He’d hinted at starting a consultancy, or a not for profit or even moving permanently overseas to do who knows what. Mark’s complete lack of a solid plan for his future made me uneasy because despite everything he was my friend, and I cared and worried about him.

  Mark set his napkin down and pushed his chair back. “You coming now, or staying?”

  “I think I might stay here for a little while. Have another drink, practice saying I’m the boss.”

  “Fair enough. See you Monday.” He kissed my cheek, gently chucked me under the chin and then strode out of the restaurant.

  I sank back onto my chair and signaled for the waiter to bring me another drink. I’d only swallowed one mouthful when a voice I never thought I’d hear again broke me from my thoughts.

  “Hello, Isabelle.” Steph swanned around to sit opposite me, carefully arranging her dress before placing her half-full glass of champagne on the table.

  I gaped. What was it Dr. Baker had said about bad things coming in threes? I think I would have preferred a car accident, maybe a mugging. There was plenty I could think of to make up my third that were less painful than seeing her again. Note to self: do not ask the Universe if there’s anything else it wants to throw at you.

  “Steph,” I breathed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Eating dinner, the same as you and Mark were.” She leaned back, crossing a shapely leg over the other. “I hear you’re in some shit. What was this then? A last supper?”

  “You hear wrong.” It wasn’t a lie, really. Things were crappy but manageable. “Seriously, why are you here?”

  “Because I live here?” She sounded exactly the same, with that low bored East Coast accent.

  “I see,” I managed to push out, only just stopping myself from grinding my teeth.

  Her eyes swept around the restaurant before coming to rest on me. “So, how is Saint Isabelle?”

  “Don’t.” I’d always hated the way she called me that, just as she’d always hated me pushing her to be more of a philanthropist.

  At my hard stare, Steph laughed. “You’re exactly the same.”

  Funny she’d say that, because I felt like a completely different person. I reached for my clutch. “I have to go. It was great to see you again, Steph. You look really good.”

  Steph sighed and put out a hand to stop me. “Look, Isabelle. I’m back from Europe for good now, we’re going to see one another around and it would be a whole lot less awkward for all involved if we could just move on.” She straightened in her seat. “I was a shit, you were a shit. We just weren’t compatible. It’s done.”


  My grip on my purse was white-knuckled. “I know that, Steph and believe me when I say I’m long over it, and you. But it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy being around you, especially after your little smear campaign.”

  She waved, as though waving my words away. “I was angry with you, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I did that, but don’t tell me you’ve never said something you regretted.”

  Her words struck a little too close to the bone. I studied her, wondering why I’d ever found her attractive. She just…looked like money. Physically she was as gorgeous as ever, even having changed her hair—now longer and auburn, and so suited to her fine features that it made me wonder why she hadn’t done it earlier. But her light brown eyes were so cold. She felt cold, totally different to Audrey. Or rather the Audrey who wasn’t ignoring me.

  Surprised by her apology, I mumbled, “You know I have.”

  Steph almost recoiled, placing a hand on her chest and flashing me a look of mock-surprise. “Is that an admission of guilt? Will wonders never cease?” Her smile softened the barb. “Listen, there’s nothing sinister at play. I’m here having dinner, I saw you and I thought you could use some support. If the rumors are true, and I think they are.”

  “Thank you, but I have plenty of support.” Maybe. If I could get Audrey to speak to me again. Twigging to everything she’d just said, I backtracked. “Wait, what do you mean rumors?”

  She smiled slyly, eyes twinkling. “Grapevine says Mark Hall is leaving Rhodes and Hall. And maybe even the city.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” I demanded.

  “You know I hear almost everything.” Steph held up a hand to stop the tirade I was about to unleash. “Don’t worry, it didn’t come from your office. Nothing ever comes from there.” She sighed. “Your staff are your Knights of the Round Table. When we were dating I could barely get Clare to tell me if you were in or out for lunch. They protect you like you’re a member of the first family or something.”