by Jamie Beck
Gentry snuggled Colt to her chest for comfort after her restless night. She’d role-played cool detachment in her head at least twenty times since waking at five thirty. The clock now read eight forty. She’d put off facing Ian as long as possible. Time to be a grown-up.
When she emerged from her room, she saw him sitting on the tufted leather ottoman, elbows on his knees, head down, surrounded by strangely gloomy dove-gray walls. She could blame that flatness on the cloudy Oregon weather or admit that it had a lot to do with her mood.
Ian stood when she and Colt entered the room.
“Good morning.” The circles under his eyes were darker than hers. She would be sympathetic if their shitty night hadn’t been his decision.
“Maybe for some.” She immediately regretted revealing that his rejection had hurt her. Turning her back to Ian, she kissed Colt’s face several times before putting him in the baby swing. Colt treated her to a smile. A real smile! He hadn’t smiled often in his young life, but the big, toothless thing of beauty made her missteps with Ian irrelevant. She lightly brushed Colt’s silky hair and tickled under his chin, wishing she could play hooky and spend the whole day with him. “Mommy will see you later, Boo. I love you.”
Sparing Ian a brief glance after grabbing her laptop bag, she said, “I’ll be home by six.”
“Gentry, wait,” he began.
She waved him off, keeping her chin up even as her gaze fell to a distant spot on the floor. “I can’t be late when Hunter’s already angry about Ty. No need to rehash last night, either. I got the message. When you’re set to leave, I’d appreciate a few days’ notice.”
With a sharp nod, she marched into the garage without looking back, so she didn’t see his reaction. All she did know was that he didn’t burst into the garage to apologize before she drove away.
Fortunately, a lengthy to-do list at work forced her thoughts away from Ian. She worked with the graphic designer all morning to generate messaging and memes for their social media platforms now that the marketing team had voted, unanimously, for her “Quench your thirst for a better world” slogan. That win took the sting out of her personal situation, although it also reminded her of time spent on the deck with Ian.
Enough pining. Time to capitalize on the wave of her success. She stopped by Becky’s workstation on her way to lunch. “Want to grab a quick bite at Coco’s?”
Becky held up her brown bag. “I’m all set, thanks.”
“I’ll order takeout so we can eat out here,” Gentry offered, referring to the café tables on the covered patio that gave the employees an alfresco dining option, rain or shine.
“Maybe another time, Gentry.” Becky glanced around as if worried someone else was listening.
Gentry became acutely aware that her coworkers’ stations were suddenly buzzing with busywork. “Did I do something to offend you?”
“No.”
“Really? Because it seems like, since I’ve returned from maternity leave, you’ve kept your distance.”
Becky cleared her throat, but no one around them came to her rescue. “It’s not personal. I’ve been super busy. If this product launch flops, heads will roll.”
“You still should take a break now and then so you don’t burn out.”
“Of course you’d say that. You have nothing to lose. The rest of us have our jobs at stake.”
Hunter’s warnings raced through Gentry’s mind, but she wasn’t like him. She could do only so much pandering and proving herself before reaching the end of her admittedly short rope. “That’s some seriously flawed logic.”
“Excuse me?” Becky’s left brow rose.
“You heard me. In case you forgot, as an owner, I took a big gamble when I voted to give Hunter’s idea the green light instead of selling the company, so, in fact, I have more to lose than any of you if this launch goes south. In fact, thanks to my vote, you all still have jobs. Remember that the next time you snub me.”
“Gentry!” Her mother’s voice squashed Gentry’s sense of victory.
Everything fell silent for about five seconds; then the frantic typing resumed, surrounding her with a keyboard symphony. The perfect soundtrack for a workplace scolding.
Ignoring the inevitable, Gentry kept her gaze locked on Becky.
Her mother cleared her throat. “I’d like to speak with you . . . in my office.”
Gentry affected a bright smile before facing her mom. “Certainly, Mother. Lead the way.”
Once they were in her mom’s office with the door closed, Gentry dropped onto the silk-covered Charlemagne armchair across from her mother’s desk. Her heels sank into the crimson Tibetan rug. Today its thick pile would serve an important secondary service: absorbing the sound of raised voices.
She crossed her legs, letting one swing back and forth, knowing Ian’s rejection had contributed to her taunting Becky. Maybe she’d apologize later . . . if Becky also apologized. “I don’t suppose you’re about to congratulate me.”
“Don’t be smart.” Her mother folded her hands on her desk. “You look like hell. Did Colt have a bad night?”
He’d slept for almost five straight hours for the first time. More sleep than she’d gotten last night, in fact.
“Colt’s fine. I’m fine.” Gentry set her hands on the chair’s arms, preparing to run. “Is that all?”
“Hardly,” her mother sighed. “You can’t threaten employees, Gentry. We don’t need HR trouble. Especially not now.”
“What are you talking about? I report to Becky, not the other way around. If anything, I should be the one filing complaints. Everyone here treats me like I don’t belong.”
Her mother quickly checked something on her computer screen while saying, “Will lording your ownership over everybody make them treat you better?”
“At this point, I don’t care. I’m sick of not getting credit for the work I’ve done. You certainly haven’t helped matters, either.”
“Why does every mistake you make end up being my fault? Your favorite pastime is recounting all the ways I’ve failed you.” Her mother shook her head. “Yet now your son’s at home with a nanny.”
“He won’t be with a nanny for long.” The look on Ian’s face last night resurfaced, making her heart skip. Not that her mom’s response was on point. Gentry’s childhood complaints weren’t only about having a nanny. They were about the scraps of attention she’d gotten from her absentee family most of her life. “Let’s not get sidetracked. What I’m saying now is that you go so far out of your way to make sure that there’s no whiff of favoritism here, you never give me credit for my contributions. If you don’t believe I deserve to be here, why would they give me a chance?”
“No one deserves anything, Gentry. Your father built this company from nothing. For almost three decades, I’ve helped him, and Hunter has, too. But believe me, we paid our dues, and you have to pay yours. You’ve been handed an opportunity, but it’s up to you to have the grit to see it through. My job isn’t to make that easier for you, and if I did, it would actually make things worse.”
Gentry stood, suddenly sick of herself and her need for acceptance. It never worked out. What she wanted remained visible but out of reach, locked behind an impenetrable glass wall.
“Sit.” Her mother pointed at the empty chair.
“No.” Gentry gripped the wooden frame of its back. “If you want to discuss one of my projects, fire away. I’ll fill you in on the awesome ideas we came up with this morning. But I won’t sit through a lecture when I only defended myself after Becky insulted me.”
“She did?” Her mother’s gaze sharpened.
“Oh, now you want the whole story?”
“Yes, please. I’d like to be well informed in case this lands on Ross Hardy’s desk.”
Ross Hardy was the head of HR. A decent, if conservative, guy. Gentry recapped the entire exchange, starting with her lunch invitation. If she’d thought her mother would side with her after hearing all the facts, she’d been high.
“Let’s be honest. You have a reputation of your own making to overcome around here. From everyone’s perspective but yours, you’ve carried a humongous chip on your shoulder while leading a decadent life. If you want respect, my advice is to keep your head down and do your job. It takes more than a few months and a handful of good ideas to prove your worth.”
If Gentry’s eyes weren’t already black-and-blue from the lack of sleep, that one-two punch would’ve done the trick. Why did she bother? She could so easily stay at home, blog, take photographs, and be with her son.
The past twelve hours had drained Gentry of her fight. “Are we done? I’d like to grab lunch and get back to work.”
“Fine.”
Some mothers might offer to join their child for lunch in a show of solidarity or, at least, compassion. Hers waved Gentry away and returned her attention to her computer.
Gentry closed her mother’s door and strolled past the workstations with her eyes fixed on the EXIT sign. On her way out of the building, she passed a group of three coworkers. They stopped talking as she approached. She strode past them, flashing a tight smile.
Any other time, she might’ve made a flip remark, but she didn’t need Ross or Hunter on her case. Now she had no one to turn to. Even Colby, who might try to be helpful, would probably still agree with her mother’s advice.
All the changes she’d undergone for Colt had left her vulnerable and weak—and no better off.
When she reached the parking lot, she trotted toward her car. Sitting in her front seat, she gripped the steering wheel. It started raining, which suited her perfectly. She stared at the black Acura parked in front of her car, tears burning in her eyes. When someone else approached a nearby car, she pretended to be looking at herself in her rearview mirror rather than look like a lunatic.
Screw it. She fired up the engine even though she wasn’t hungry. She knew she should eat something. Most of all, she needed to get away from Cabot Tea and think.
While Ian taped his and Colt’s artwork to the refrigerator, an unexpected knock at the door startled him. At first he thought Gentry had decided to drop by for lunch, as she’d done once last week, but Gentry wouldn’t knock at her own door.
Through the peephole, he watched Colby shake out her umbrella. Before she rang the bell and woke Colt from his morning nap, he opened the door. “Hey, Colby. What’s up?”
Colby set her wet umbrella outside before stepping into the entry. “I’m on my way to the restaurant, but I wanted to drop off some information. Is this a bad time?”
“It’s a good time, actually. Colt’s still asleep.”
“So we have five minutes . . . maybe ten?” She laughed, which made her eyes curl more at the outer edges.
“Something like that.” He smiled.
Colby set her leather bag on the table and opened it to retrieve whatever she’d brought him. She reminded him a bit of a modern-day Audrey Hepburn. Simple hairstyle, light makeup, a conservative but feminine navy-blue dress. He crossed his arms, suddenly self-conscious of his uncombed hair, aging U2 T-shirt, and bare feet.
She turned and handed him a manila envelope. It seemed Gentry had not yet forbidden Colby from helping. “I’ve made a short list of contacts. If you’d like, I’ll reach out to them first, or you can reference me when you contact them. One, in particular, might be of interest. Marcus Fairfax, of Fairfax Auto Palace.”
“The luxury car dealer?”
“Yes. He has a history of philanthropy. Better yet, his twenty-three-year-old son is an EMT who does a lot of local charitable work. I think your project could interest them. Given their multiple dealerships, they may be able to get vehicles at a good price.”
“That’s an amazing lead, thank you.”
“Happy to help. Have you contacted the World Health Organization yet? Based upon your plans, it might be an important ally.”
“Archer is dealing with them and other health-care groups.” He looked at the envelope. “I wish I could repay this favor. Gentry jumped in and asked for your help so fast I wasn’t prepared.”
Colby’s quick smile appeared. “She can be excitable and impulsive, but that’s part of her charm, I think.”
“She’s unpredictable.” He felt a tug at the corners of his mouth.
“I don’t know where she got that gene. None of the rest of us do much without a plan. She’d say we ‘overthink.’ I suppose there’s some truth in that.” Colby grinned. “Anyway, if you have questions about any of that information, call me.”
“Thanks.” He waved the envelope in the air. “I appreciate your time.”
“You’re welcome.” She grimaced, hesitating. “Would you mind if I use the restroom before I go?”
“Of course.” After she dashed down the hall, Ian opened the envelope and pulled out the memo. If he hadn’t known Colby had been a lawyer, he’d guess it from the organized outline of information: names, addresses, e-mails and phone numbers, bios, donor histories. Everything arranged alphabetically. His gaze homed in on Marcus Fairfax’s bio.
When Colby returned to the living area, her attention snagged on Quackers, who’d been discarded on the ottoman. She came to a complete stop, eyes wide. “Oh God. I can’t believe she still has that thing.”
She wandered across the room in a trance and picked up the raggedy stuffed toy, gently wiggling it. A sentimental smile appeared. “Hello, Quackers.”
“You know this duck?”
“Of course.” Colby stared at the ratty toy and shook her head. “She wouldn’t let anyone touch him for years. She’d even carry him like this”—Colby stuffed Quackers under her armpit—“when she needed to use both hands.”
“Wow.” He’d been watching Gentry force that old thing on Colt every day. “What made it so special?”
“Hunter gave it to her. She must’ve only been five or six at the time. He was around fourteen and had his first ‘paying’ job at CTC that summer—less than minimum wage and straight from our dad’s pocket, no doubt.” She removed the toy from her underarm and petted it. “Anyway, he bought it for her birthday.”
“Didn’t she get other gifts that year?”
“You’ve met Jenna and seen that house, right?” Her sarcastic tone matched her smirk. “Getting enough toys was never the problem.”
“Then why was this duck a big deal?”
Colby grew quiet, as if searching her thoughts for the right words. She set Quackers back on the ottoman and hugged herself.
“Hunter and I were always close, while Gentry was younger and lived with my dad. We didn’t mean to exclude her, but we were adolescents still learning to handle our new family dynamic. We were probably a little jealous, too, because she had our dad . . . and a pool!” Colby laughed at how foolish kids’ priorities could be. Then she settled her hand across her heart. “If you had seen her face when Hunter handed her a present that he’d bought with his own money. It wouldn’t have mattered what was in that box. To her it meant everything—meant she mattered—though I doubt Hunter remembers.” She let her hand fall and sighed. “We should’ve paid more attention to her when we were younger. It’s one of my big regrets.”
Ian hadn’t any siblings or sense of a normal family, and that had never bothered him much in the past. “You’ve got time now.”
“I know. But years of not being close have made her prickly and defensive even when, deep, deep down, I think she’s still yearning for her place. Maybe that’s why she’s tried on so many different hats. Now she has Colt, though. The romantic in me keeps hoping she’ll let herself fall in love and create her own little family. Who knows? Maybe Colt’s dad could turn out to be her prince, after all.”
“You think?” His hands balled at his sides until he flexed them.
“More like a wish, I suppose. I know something about feeling alone even when surrounded by family, and I also know how love can grow in the most unexpected ways.” Colby pressed her lips into a tight line.
“It’s a nice dre
am, anyway.” He’d officially gotten in over his head in this conversation.
“A cynic, I see. I suppose your experiences haven’t left much room for romance.” She tipped her head, and he saw a light flicker in her hazel eyes. He could tell she’d formed a thought she chose not to share. “I’d better let you relax before the little rug rat wakes up. Give Colt a kiss from me.”
“Will do.” He followed her to the door. “Thanks again for the notes.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ian closed the door after Colby left. He padded through the house and picked up Quackers. Love-worn, not ratty. That designation improved Quacker’s appeal. On the other hand, his chest ached a little as he imagined Gentry clutching this toy as some kind of lifeline to love. To a family that was too busy to notice that she needed more from them.
Gentry’s wounds weren’t life threatening in a traditional sense, yet they were real and painful.
He’d been struggling all night and morning to make sense of his choices. Worrying about Marie’s son, Timmy. Worrying about his father’s legacy and wishes. Questioning his life in the face of Gentry’s accusations.
When he’d taken this job, he’d planned to leave Gentry better off than when he arrived. Last night proved how far short he’d fallen on that goal. He had a couple of weeks to do better so he could leave here with some peace of mind. To show her that she didn’t need to cling to an old toy to feel loved.
Ian was peeling an orange in the kitchen when he heard Gentry drop her bag in the hall near her bedroom. From his spot by the refrigerator, he saw her stride past the kitchen, straight to the playpen, where Colt restlessly wriggled his arms and legs. She lifted him out of his prison and kissed him, whispering things too quietly for Ian to make out the words.
With her back still turned to him, she asked, “Any trouble today?”
“No. I think the infection is definitely gone. He ate well. Napped.” Then, because she refused to look at him, Ian added, “Colby stopped by.”
