Just Look Up

by Courtney Walsh

  Chloe nodded and moved out of the way as Lane passed by. She smoothed her black dress pants and sat down next to Marshall.

  After everyone was seated, JB called the meeting to order. The Solar executives, with their Starbucks to-go cups, their casual shoes, their bordering-on-shaggy hair and impress-me expressions, all turned their attention to the man. Marshall might’ve aged twenty years in the presence of the Solar execs, but next to them, JB seemed downright prehistoric.

  Lane had always found him to be a quirky kind of man, one who used words like fellow and had a bushy white mustache that made her doubt the presence of an upper lip at all. Ashton should take a few pointers from JB. That man knew how to grow facial hair.

  Lane half listened to JB’s introduction of Solar—stating facts she’d already researched on her own. Next, JB gave a short pitch about why his firm was the best to take on the massive task of creating and designing a branded space for a cutting-edge tech business like Solar.

  JB assured them that the space they had planned for Solar was not only functional but truly creative at its core—something the artistic Solar execs would certainly appreciate. JB was nothing if not an excellent salesman. Maybe that’s why this fellow was still running the show after all these years.

  Lane glanced down at her tablet, mentally reciting her opening lines, when the phone in the bag near her feet lit up, vibrating loudly enough to pull Miles’s attention.

  “Might want to silence that thing,” her coworker hissed.

  She fished the phone out of her bag and pressed the button to stop the noise before anyone else noticed, but not before she saw that it was her mother calling. She sent the call to voice mail. She supposed she was due for her monthly guilt-trip phone call—it had been at least that long since she’d spoken to her mom.

  In her hand, the phone started vibrating again.

  Mom, you have the worst timing.

  She hit the button to shut it up, then turned off the power.

  Marshall took JB’s spot at the front of the room and introduced himself. “I think we’re ready to begin.” He glanced at Lane.

  Just breathe. Part of her, she supposed, would always feel like a fraud. Most days, despite her Northwestern education and years of experience, Lane still felt like she was playing dress-up in the closet of someone much older, much thinner, and much more professional than she ever felt.

  And yet she’d mastered the art of playing this part perfectly, as if she were born for the role.

  “. . . and we’re sure you’ll be as impressed with her as we are. Lane Kelley.” Marshall spoke her name, pulling her out of her own head.

  She met his eyes and he leaned forward as if to will her out of her seat.

  Had time suddenly stopped moving?

  Lane stood, taking her place next to the big screen. You can do this. She flipped open the cover of her tablet and drew in a deep breath as the image of a mood board that perfectly captured their design popped up on the screen beside her.

  She’d created the image herself. Most people were visual, and the images, all of them, needed to conjure the same feelings the space itself would. Every item on the mood board had been carefully—painstakingly—chosen.

  Lane knew Solar inside and out, she reminded herself. She’d read every article, every blurb, every tweet and Facebook post that had anything to do with the business this team had built. She was wrapped up in the details—and it was about to pay off.

  In spades.

  She had her game face on. As she stood there, every insecurity melted away. They were in her world now, and here, she knew how to get things done.

  Lane was about to deliver her first sentence when the glass door of the conference room opened and Chloe appeared. She wore an apologetic look on her face and Lane knew her well enough to tell she wasn’t happy to steal the attention.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Chloe looked at Lane. “Lane, you’ve got a phone call.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Marshall spoke through clenched teeth, doing a bad job of pretending he wasn’t annoyed.

  Chloe’s face fell. “I’m afraid not.”

  Marshall pressed his lips together and glared at Lane, telepathically communicating the words undoubtedly running through his mind: Don’t screw this up.

  “Can you take a message, Chloe?” Lane asked. “I’m just getting ready to begin.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Take a message,” Marshall cut her off.

  “There’s been an accident, Lane,” Chloe said. “You need to take the call.”

  CHAPTER

  2

  NATE WAS HER FAVORITE BROTHER. He always had been. He’d been the one who stuck up for her when everything went sideways. And when she heard her mother’s voice on the other end of the phone, the floodgate of memories opened and it all came rushing back.

  His earnest face. His knit brow. His pleading words. “How could you do this to Lane?” It was as if he knew nothing would ever be the same again. And he’d been right.

  “Lane, it’s Nate,” her mother had said when Lane picked up the phone. “We need you to come home.”

  “What about Nate? What’s going on?” She leaned against Chloe’s desk, her gaze wandering through the glass of the conference room, where Marshall now stood next to the screen, stalling for time.

  Lane pinched the space just between her eyebrows, trying to focus on her mother’s voice on the other end of the line.

  Her mother started to cry. “There was an accident last night. He’s in the ICU. You need to come home, Lane.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Please, God, not Nate. Her heavy sigh matched her heart.

  Marshall glanced at her from where he stood and she quickly turned away.

  “The ICU?” She did her best to steady her voice, unsure how she was going to persuade Marshall to give her a few days off. Convincing Solar to hire them was only the first part of the job—if they won the account, their workload would double, maybe even triple. And if she knew Marshall, and she did, their deadline would be a tight one. He would overpromise. Talk big like he did.

  And Lane wouldn’t sleep for the next six months.

  Marshall didn’t care about family emergencies. He cared about results. If she couldn’t deliver them, he’d find someone who could.

  “Tell me what happened, Mom,” Lane said.

  “It was a motorcycle accident. Nate and that stupid motorcycle,” her mom said. “A truck swerved over the center line and into his lane, and when he tried to get out of the way, he lost control and ended up colliding with a telephone pole.”

  “Why didn’t you call me last night?” Lane tried not to sound accusatory.

  “We didn’t know how serious it was until this morning,” her mom said. “You know Nate—he’s been in and out of the emergency room since he was a little boy.”

  “Was he wearing a helmet?” Lane asked, thinking back to Nate’s eighteenth birthday, when he announced he’d purchased a motorcycle with his own money. Their mother had been furious, but Nate’s argument that he was an adult now eventually won out. She’d made him promise he wouldn’t ride without a helmet—a promise he only sometimes kept.

  “Yes, thank goodness,” her mom said. “But they don’t know . . .”

  “Mom?”

  Her tears had apparently overtaken her. Lane heard a commotion on the other end.

  “Mom?” As if raising her voice would make her mother pick the phone back up.

  “Lane?”

  “Jer?”

  “You should come home.”

  She felt the pinprick at the edges of her heart. “She’s not just overreacting? You know how she is.”

  Her youngest brother sighed. “He’s not conscious, Lane. He’s in a coma. Broke his right arm and leg and two ribs.” A pause, then Jeremy spoke in a lower tone. “He’s in bad shape.”

  She sank into Chloe’s chair as she thought of the last time she’d seen Nate. Two years ago at Christmas, and only
because he came to the city and she felt obligated.

  She should’ve done better. Nate wasn’t the one who betrayed her.

  “Let me see what I can do,” Lane said. “I’m in the middle of a couple of big projects here.” She didn’t want to think about Nate in a hospital bed. Or what it would be like walking into the waiting room and coming face-to-face with family she hadn’t seen in months—years. Here, at work, was where she belonged. She was comfortable here. Competent. And people knew that about her. Harbor Pointe didn’t hold even a sliver of that assurance.

  She pictured Jeremy standing in the middle of the Harbor Pointe Hospital, surrounded by their parents, their oldest brother, Noah, and his family, and Nate’s never-ending line of friends. How would she find the courage to insert herself into the fray? The image from one of those Discovery Channel shows popped into her head—salmon working so hard against the natural order of things, swimming against the flow and seemingly getting nowhere unless they were willing to jump upstream.

  She’d always found it hard to be the salmon.

  “Lane.” Jer’s voice was quiet, yet firm. “This isn’t a ‘let me see if I can work it into my schedule’ kind of thing. This is a ‘drop everything and get here’ kind of thing.”

  His words robbed Lane of the air in her lungs. She had a feeling it was something like that. Denying it wouldn’t make it go away. She rubbed her temple and closed her eyes, willing the dull ache in her head to fade.

  “What are you saying, Jer?” She heard the crack in her voice.

  A quiet beat; then, “Just get home, Lane. Today.” And then he was gone.

  As her mind floundered, she placed the receiver back in the cradle on Chloe’s desk. Seconds later, Chloe appeared at Lane’s side as if she’d been watching her from some unknown hiding place, waiting to pounce the second Lane hung up. “What is it?” Her eyes were wide.

  Lane stared at the floor. “I have to go home.”

  Chloe tossed her long auburn hair behind her shoulder as Lane raised her chin to meet her gaze. “What’s wrong?” In that moment, there was no trace of Chloe’s usual sharp-witted sense of humor—only genuine concern in her eyes.

  But that made everything seem more real—and Lane didn’t want to believe any of it. She couldn’t form a reply.

  Lane started toward her cubicle, her head doing a pirouette, her palms cold and clammy. Marshall was probably glaring at her in his mind despite maintaining his composure in front of JB and the others. She’d let him down.

  God, please don’t let Nate die.

  “What can I do?” Chloe asked as Lane reached her desk and started gathering her things.

  “Just help me reschedule whatever’s on my calendar for the next couple of days,” Lane said, tucking her laptop into its case.

  Chloe turned her attention to her tablet. “I can do that.” She tapped the screen a few times. “You’ve got a meeting with Mrs. Pim this afternoon and a phone call with Chicago Woman magazine after that.”

  Lane rubbed her forehead. “I forgot.”

  “I’ll reschedule,” Chloe said. “I’ll make sure they know it was an emergency.”

  Lane dropped into her desk chair. “What about Solar?” Unwanted tears sprang to her eyes as she saw everything she’d worked so hard for vanishing into thin air. And yet a part of her knew it was the phone call that had made her truly emotional.

  She just didn’t want to think about that right now.

  “I’ll go in and explain what happened. Let’s see if we can get them back in a few days.” Chloe’s smile revealed perfectly straight and professionally whitened teeth. Chloe ran a fashion blog, one that was doing surprisingly well. Lane supposed that’s why her assistant had practically become her personal shopper. Chloe said it was fun to dress her boss, especially since she could shop on someone else’s dime.

  Lane had never much enjoyed shopping. Years of finding nothing in her size had sullied the experience, she supposed.

  Lane sighed. “But they’ve already met with Julia Baumann at Innovate. If they don’t hear our pitch today, they probably aren’t going to hear it at all.”

  “I think Miles was talking to them just now. I’m sure the team can handle it.”

  Lane stifled a groan. Miles would handle it all right. And he’d weasel his way into her promotion too—he’d been after it all year.

  “I know. It’s just that this was my pitch.”

  “I’m sure they’ll understand,” Chloe said, though she and Lane both knew better. That’s not how this business worked. The odds of a second chance were slim.

  Her assistant stilled. “So what happened, Lane? Is everything okay?”

  Lane didn’t discuss her family—not even with Chloe—and she wasn’t about to start now. “I think it’ll be fine, but thanks for your concern.” Even as she said the words, she felt like a liar. She wasn’t even remotely sure everything was going to be fine. She wouldn’t know until she got there and saw her brother for herself.

  Chloe probably saw right through her, but she knew better than to press Lane.

  She stood, gathered the last of her things, and turned to Chloe. “Can you let everyone know they can reach me on my cell?”

  “Of course, Lane, but if you need a couple days off, take them,” Chloe said. “It’s not like you haven’t earned it.”

  Lane stiffened as her friend attempted a hug that turned awkward. “Thanks.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?” Chloe’s face had fallen as if the gravity of the situation had pulled the buoyancy from her eyes. Somehow Lane knew that now she wasn’t asking as an assistant—she was asking as a friend.

  “Thanks, Chlo,” Lane said. “But no. I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

  Chloe gave her one brave nod and Lane started down the hallway toward the elevator.

  “Where are you going?”

  Marshall’s voice stopped her, but she didn’t immediately turn around. She could sense that Chloe had stepped into Lane’s cubicle, no doubt desperately wishing she could disappear.

  Slowly Lane faced him. “I have a family emergency.”

  She could imagine how it sounded, given that Marshall knew nothing about her family—even after working together for seven years and dating each other for five months. He was as much in the dark as everyone, but that didn’t make what she said any less true.

  His hands were attached to his hips, his gaze holding hers hostage. “Come into my office.” He walked past her, down the hall toward the very room where they’d shared their first kiss only a few short months ago. Marshall confessed his feelings had been growing for her despite the fact that he’d been in a serious relationship with someone else for three years.

  “That’s all over now, though,” he’d told her. “And I thought maybe we could have a drink together after work sometime.”

  She’d been hesitant at first since she’d worked so hard to be taken seriously, but his quiet persistence won her over in the end. Sometimes she thought maybe she was just tired of being alone, but then she remembered the side of Marshall no one else ever got to see. He was charming always, but with her, when other people weren’t around, it was more than that. He was attentive and thoughtful and he told her she was beautiful.

  Mostly, though, her affection for him lacked the kind of intoxication new romance sometimes brings, which meant Lane could enjoy their relationship without having to be afraid of the deep pain of losing it.

  Her heart was secure—and that was the most important thing.

  They’d kept their romance quiet, given Lane’s ambitions of becoming a creative director one day.

  Now, sitting on the sofa in his office, blinds drawn, she didn’t know if she was here as an employee or a girlfriend.

  He sat down next to her. “What’s going on? We’ve got a room full of really important people in there, and you’re bolting for the door.”

  She stared at her hands, folded in her lap. “I told you. Family emergency.”

>   He leaned closer. “Can you give me a little more than that?”

  No. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to invite Marshall into that world—a world that didn’t make sense, even to her. “It’s complicated.”

  He scratched his head just behind his ear and shifted on the sofa. “You’ve got to explain this to me, Lane.”

  “I need a couple of personal days,” she said. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Right now? In the middle of the biggest project you’ve worked on since you started here? You blew it in there. The team had to cover for you.”

  She held his gaze. “But that’s what it means to be a part of a team, isn’t it?”

  Marshall studied her. “You know what I’m talking about. This was your chance to show off a little—you say you want to be a creative director; then you walk out of a pitch meeting with Solar? Not a good decision.”

  “You know I didn’t just ‘walk out,’” she said.

  “Do I?” he asked. “You’ve told me nothing about that phone call. For that matter, you’ve told me nothing about your family.”

  “I admit the timing is less than ideal.” She hoped her attempt to change the subject would hold. She could feel him studying her as if his glare would break her down, make her spill the whole sad story.

  “I need more than this if I’m going to give you a few days off,” he said. “I’m talking as your team leader now.”

  She shot him a look. “Marshall, please.”

  He shrugged as if to ask what else he was supposed to do.

  “You’re pulling rank to extract information on my personal life.”

  The tight look on his face softened. “I thought I was your personal life.”

  She looked away. “My brother was in an accident. I need to go home and make sure he’s okay.”

  “You have a brother?”

  “I have three brothers.” She stood. “And I have to go now.”

  He stood in front of her, took her hands, and forced her to look at him. He pushed her dark hair behind her ear and waited until he had her eyes. She hated how vulnerable it made her feel. Her wall was usually fully intact—unable to be scaled.