Willow's Way

by Sharon Struth

  Willow watched the activity in Bryant Park. Jilly would love this place, especially the ice skating rink. Longing squeezed Willow’s heart in a spot reserved for Owen and Jilly. And even Henry.

  Just over forty-eight hours ago, she’d been at Heathrow, holding Jilly tightly and offering promises to return soon, trying to stifle her own tears while the poor child’s spilled. And kissing Owen goodbye, wrapped in the warmth of his arms while savoring one last kiss.

  Thickness clogged her throat now, as it had done then. The second she’d returned to her apartment, she’d Skyped them. Proof she’d stick to her promise to do so. Since then, she and Owen had texted multiple times a day.

  Tension knotted her shoulders. She’d be more relaxed going to tonight’s board meeting if he sat at her side.

  She studied the people hurrying along the sidewalks. Tall, short, heavy, thin, average. Everyone one of them a unique package on the outside, but not necessarily a wrapping that reflected who they were on the inside. Somewhere along the way, Willow had lost sight of this simple fact when it came to the image she saw in the mirror each day.

  She smoothed the front of the pencil skirt she’d selected for the board meeting, worn with a jacket that buttoned at the waist. An outfit she’d put on many times since gaining this recent weight, but this afternoon when she’d looked in the mirror, she saw a different woman. She’d ran a hand over the full curves of her torso that had previously caused her to grimace. This time, touching the road map of her body made her think back to Owen’s response to it. She must’ve been crazy to think anything but good things about herself.

  This was her. Take it or leave it.

  Her phone buzzed and she pulled it from her briefcase, smiling when she saw the text from Owen.

  About to go to bed, but hope I caught you before you face the board. Remember this:

  “It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.”

  No. It’s not an Owen original. It’s a quote written by Jane Austen, in Sense and Sensibility. Remember those words, stand proud, and don’t take any guff from those cheeky bastards tonight, Rosebud. I’m at your side in spirit. Good luck, Gorgeous.

  Gorgeous. Since she met him, he’d tossed out little phrases or studied her through eyes that tore her from an image of herself she’d clung to over a lifetime.

  She typed back.

  On my way there right now. Thank you. For your message and for always making me feel so good. I will let you know how it goes. Xx

  The cab neared the Pound Busters building, sending a flurry of nerves pinging inside her stomach. She took a deep breath and exhaled, though the nerves remained. Hell, facing a firing squad might be less stressful.

  She paid the driver and headed through the glass doors into the lobby. Tonight, she had two speeches planned. One would pacify the board, the other they’d deem more controversial. Right now, she wasn’t sure which she’d use.

  * * * *

  “I second the motion.” Tom Botsford, a long-time member of the board, passed Nikki Winslow a wolflike smile as he supported the motion she’d just made.

  Willow’s gaze drifted to Nikki, who nodded but didn’t flinch at the suggestiveness in the eighty-four-year-old’s eyes. Her skill at dealing with board members’ idiosyncrasies helped solidify her power.

  “Thank you, Tom.” Nikki turned to the meeting secretary. “Please record the motion to approve a loan to cover our losses from the recent abuse by our financial advisor.” She flashed a smug glare in Willow’s direction.

  Willow kept her gaze on Nikki and straightened in her chair. She’d arrived at the meeting early enough to secure a seat opposite Nikki’s, at the head of the long, rectangular table. This way, Willow at least held a power corner. She reached up to her throat and took the rose charm between her thumb and forefinger. As she ran her thumb on the grooves, it not only reminded her of the journey that started the day she had slipped this on, but the powerful insights gained each step of the way.

  Abe tapped her forearm and pushed a notepad toward, pointing to the margin with his pen. He’d scribbled Stay strong, kiddo, along with a happy face.

  She lifted her gaze his way and smiled. Over the tops of dark-rimmed reading glasses, he did the same, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

  The day she’d returned from England, they’d met for lunch and she’d laid out plans for a new way to run Pound Busters, using the awareness found on her journey. A plan she hoped she could present to defend her role as CEO. Abe had liked her fresh look at the company image, but warned her some of the members here tonight might not.

  The question, how much was she willing to risk to keep her job?

  “Last item of the night is…” Nikki’s voice rose and she paused to read from the agenda before her.

  Willow forced her attention to the head of the table.

  “…the replacement of our current Chief Executive Officer, Willow Armstrong.” Nikki glanced up, looking everywhere but at Willow. “Before we vote, I’ve told Willow she can have an opportunity to speak. A last chance to explain her current physical condition and decisions she has made that have taken us to this regretful decision.”

  Willow stared back and refused to look away.

  Nikki’s gaze drifted briefly to Willow and she just as quickly pulled it away. “I do remind you all that, in her role as figurehead for this organization, Willow hasn’t presented an image some of us believe best represents our views. And in case any of you have forgotten, her pizza-eating episode made national TV.” She looked to the end of table, her superior expression wielding the power of a weapon. “That said, Willow, the floor is yours.”

  The mention of the horrible video stung like a blow to the chest, but Willow drew in a deep breath, remembered her mission, and got to her feet to address the group.

  She glanced around the sea of faces intently waiting for her to speak. Both friends and foe, each with very different wishes for her.

  Her gut quivered. The new approach to running this business that sounded so good in her head had lost some steam. Risk never stopped her in the past, but if this speech went sour, she might lose the company. And if they liked it and employed it, what if her new idea proved wrong? Her reputation in the business world was at stake.

  She took a deep breath, and opted for her safer speech. “Pound Busters was my creation. It’s a method for weight loss I believe in. Our philosophy has impacted so many people across our country, leaving our members happier and healthier. Despite the problems I’ve had with my image for a while now, I still believe in our message and…”

  The words were a lie.

  She studied the faces around the table, some nodding and understanding. Others’ staring down at their hands or the table. Nikki watched with the smugness of Stalin about to have his guards toss a traitor in the Gulag.

  Rage churned through Willow. This board’s interest lay in a philosophy she could no longer stomach. In a way of viewing people’s struggles with weight that she hadn’t understood until forced to face this fate. As her anger propelled her to speak honestly, she debated the outcome.

  It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.

  Owen’s text. Did she want to leave here tonight wishing she’d done the right thing or not doing it?

  Perhaps someone needed to speak out on behalf of those who struggled with weight loss every single day. Who proudly slipped on pants in a new size that might not be the one society deemed perfect, but were perfect for them. A realistic outlook, not a “do or die fat” mentality geared to overly thin images of women seen on TV and in magazines. But an approach for real women, who possess a plethora of qualities that make them special. Who aren’t inferior because they aren’t pretty enough or skinny enough or not suitable enough to run a company.

  “You know what?”

  Several of the members who
hadn’t been watching looked her way, and those who had raised their brows.

  “I’m going to forget about the excuses I’d been prepared to offer to this group. Here’s why.” She took a step back from the table and paced, aware of how they watched and knowing she had their full attention. “Weight loss is tough and the reason is simple. It’s because we are human. Humans feel things. Happy things. Sad things. And those emotions—even the good ones—can sometimes trigger us to turn to food. Up until now, I hadn’t seen a fundamental flaw with the philosophy here at Pound Busters.”

  “Oh, come now, Willow.” Nikki’s sunken cheeks turned crimson and her jaw went tight. “A flaw in a philosophy you once touted as indispensable?”

  Willow had a hundred angry retorts, but all sidetracked her from her true goal. “Yes, a flaw, Nikki.” She stopped pacing and canvased the group. “Can anybody guess what it is?”

  The others glanced uncomfortably at each other and Willow waited it out.

  “Well, let me tell you. We drive our members hard and accept no excuses. I suppose for some members, that is what they want. But nothing we do truly allows for forgiveness. Because sometimes we humans are fragile beings and we mess up.”

  A few board members slowly nodded, giving her the power to continue.

  “We eat something we shouldn’t. We eat because our friends are. We ignore exercise in place of a movie. Or we eat because we feel sad, like when we get bad news. But who are we to perpetuate a myth that the alternative to being thin is unacceptable?” She stood a little taller, pulling her shoulders back and raising her chin. Waving a hand along her frame, she said, “When we act like looking like this isn’t acceptable?”

  Murmurs filled the air.

  She resumed her pacing, aware of the intent eyes following her. “Yes. I’ve put on weight. So what? It doesn’t change who I am or my abilities. Confidence from the inside out is what people need. And it all boils down to one thing…”

  She stopped, the room’s silence quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

  “Acceptance.”

  More nods.

  “Yes. Everything I’ve been through has showed me acceptance of who I am—flaws and all—has been missing my entire life. It’s been missing from our company philosophy. Did you ever question why people leave our centers?”

  “Honestly, Willow.” Nikki smirked. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re fine with your current weight and that’s how you are going to suggest our firm move forward?”

  “Good question. Am I fine with this weight?” She thought about the past weeks and the evolution inside her when she finished walking the Cotswold Way. “Yes, I am fine with it. Someday I may want to lose a few pounds, but never be as obsessive as I used to be. Because at this weight, I’m normal. Normal! Do you people understand what that means? Do you understand why our current philosophy makes us un-relatable to so many people who might want to lose but don’t carry such an extreme view about it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Nikki slapped her palm on the table. “What you’re suggesting is a huge departure from our current philosophy. Our members are happy with the more militant approach.”

  “I disagree.” Willow stared at Nikki, confident in her new belief and sad she’d let such an extreme view dominate her ambitions for decades. “We need to open the door and let customers know we have a better understanding of what happens when our weight loss doesn’t go as planned.”

  Nikki snorted. “Fine. Need I remind you the board has other issues with your performance? The money stolen by the financial advisor is still an issue.”

  “I stood by someone I believed loyal to me. To my firm. While the company suffered, he stole my personal funds, too. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. All I can do is move forward. It’s all the firm can do.”

  Nikki shifted and her gaze hopped to each board member, perhaps searching for support. The majority sat with rock-hard expressions. “Is that all you have to say to the members here?”

  Willow scanned the group, certain a few were with her, but not sure how a vote would go. Yet it almost didn’t matter. For the first time in her life, she felt amazing. Satisfied with her weight with self-doubt about her appearance not even slowly creeping into her mind.

  “One more thing. No matter what the outcome, I thank the board for their time and am still committed to Pound Busters, as I have always been.”

  She took her seat, mentally exhausted but lifted by her own words, committed to a new cause no matter what happened here.

  Based on frowns around the table, not all of them seemed convinced about her new outlook.

  “Thank you, Willow.” Nikki’s gaze panned the table. “Back to the matter at hand, the replacement of our current Chief Executive Officer.

  As if on cue, Alistair Lockwood glanced briefly at Willow, then to Nikki. “I move this board release Willow Armstrong as Chief Executive Officer of Pound Busters. Do I have a second?”

  Traitor. Willow had figured he’d vote against her anyway.

  Nikki smirked and straightened her shoulders, sitting a bit taller in her seat. “So moved. Do I have a second?”

  The man sitting next to Alistair grumbled, “Seconded.”

  Nikki nodded. “Those in favor of her removal say aye.”

  Willow’s heart pattered fast as a hummingbird’s wings. The battle had ended. No matter what the outcome, she’d won a war fought with herself for her entire life.

  Chapter 25

  Two months later…

  Willow studied the faces of her senior executives. As they listened to the two marketing gurus from Gilmore & Gilmore Creative Services, their expressions seemed engaged, positive, like they were as excited as her over this new direction for the firm.

  Beverly O’Hare, senior VP at Gilmore & Gilmore, smiled and gave a thumbs-up to Willow. Since the Pound Busters’ board voted 5-4 to keep Willow, she and Beverly had worked day and night to arrive at this moment. Willow nodded and turned to the screen to see the image she’d approved three days before.

  Beverly waved toward a screen at the front of the room. “And now, we’d like to unveil your firm’s new slogan…”

  The ad they planned on launching in the late spring showed an aerial shot with a group of people huddled together, smiling up at a camera. Men and women of varying sizes, shapes, and ages. Beneath them read the words, “Pound Busters, Find Your Inner Strength.”

  The applause started slowly. Soon the entire room of her employees clapped louder and louder as they rose to their feet. Willow fought tears. Not only had her new vision been so succinctly captured by this award-winning ad firm, but based on the applause, her upper management loved it, too.

  Willow walked over and shook hands with Beverly, then with her senior ad staff. “It’s perfect. The exact message I wanted to get across.” She turned to the room. “We’ll take a lunch break and meet back here afterward to talk about the impact of this across the board. Folks, we’re going to be very busy. Before we break, let me also add one thing. You all impressed me while I visited England. Each and every one of you played a role in keeping this company afloat. Saying thank you hardly seems like enough, but, from the bottom of my heart, I’m so grateful. Teamwork is what has made our firm great. With our new outlook, we’ll continue to be a competitor. Not only in the arena of weight loss, but in understanding good health and why it’s critical to keep a positive outlook about yourself. See you back here at 1:30.”

  She hurried down the hallway, hopped on the elevator, and removed her phone from her blazer pocket. Owen had sent a text during the presentation.

  Have you heard the news?

  News? Maybe Jilly lost a tooth? Owen got a new client? She typed back,

  No. Don’t keep me in suspense...

  Bitton. Far away but never far from her thoughts.

  Two floors up, she exited the elevator into the reception
area to her office suite.

  “Yes, those three pictures should go centered above the sofa against the wall.” Becky pointed to an area above the sleek, modern office furniture to the two workmen standing nearby, waiting with hammers and a ladder.

  “I’m back, Becky.”

  Becky turned away from the men, her dark eyes going wide. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in. What do you think?”

  Willow glanced at the suite walls. Gone were the old poster-sized photographs showing thin, muscular people who represented the old Pound Busters. New photographs showed people active. Smiling. Eating. Each with a positive energy. Satisfaction that always came with a job well done swelled inside Willow’s chest.

  “Looks perfect. Thanks for getting that done so fast.”

  She continued to her office and Becky hollered, “Someone named Hope Jenson called and said to call her back on Skype.”

  An offer on the house, maybe? “Thanks.”

  She hurried across her office threshold, her heart beating wildly. Going straight to her desk, she clicked on the computer and returned the call.

  After a few rings, Hope’s smiling face appeared. “Hello, Willow. I told you I’d call if I had good news.”

  “You did. So…?”

  “We’ve had an offer on the house, and they’re willing to pay your asking price.”

  “That’s wonderful. Who is it?”

  “It’s a developer. They want to turn the estate into a multifamily dwelling. God bless Owen. He happened to know one of the guys and recommended the house to him. Really talked the place up and I think got you top dollar.”

  Owen. She had so many things to thank him for. “That’s fantastic, Hope. What are the next steps?”

  Hope said Willow would have to return to England to meet with lawyers, sign papers, and clear out the few remaining items left on the premises. Willow kept quiet about the fast and furious pace, especially when she learned the developer wanted to start work as soon as possible.

  She said goodbye and hung up, a bit uneasy. This had been everything she’d wanted. So why did a weird feeling nag her? Where was the joy she’d expected upon getting a call like this?