Ben leaned forward. “I was just reading an article about a start-up company in Seattle that hasn’t made any profit in two years.”
“That’s kind of the norm with start-ups, isn’t it?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” Ben continued. “Do you think this is another bubble?”
Peter shook his head. “Definitely not. In fact, we’re making a profit. We can’t compete,
salary-wise with places like Intel, yet. But we have a great work place, and we offer stock options,
so everyone makes it big if the company makes it big.” He sat up straighter. “That’s what it’s all
about.”
“It’s not just stock options,” Sarah said. “Creative freedom. That’s how I got Eli. He’s the best designer in the industry. Top three,” she edited. “I snatched him fresh out of school.” Sarah shrugged. “I’m not a designer. I’ve never pretended to be one. Eli has complete creative freedom. I never interfere except that I can reject a design. I never say, ‘Change this part of it.’ I just tell him, ‘I can’t sell that.’ He does the rest.”
Peter reflected on this for a moment. “But how do we know who’s good?”
“Look at accounts they’ve had. Who’s been successful. You don’t always need money to lure people away.” Sarah took a sip of her wine. “Autonomy is more valuable than money for some. You’d be surprised how much people will sacrifice for independence.”
“That’s true,” Meredith concurred. “When a boss can say, ‘This is not my area of expertise, it’s yours. You tell me what we need to do and I’ll find a way to accommodate you.’ That’s the best kind of boss there is and it’s worth more than money.”
“Pastry puff?” Sarah offered.
Peter looked at his watch. “Whoops. I’ve gotta run. I’m late for a dinner meeting. But it was worth it. My head is swimming with ideas.” He shook Meredith's hand. “Meredith, a pleasure. I’m looking forward to continuing our conversation tomorrow. Ben?” He shook Ben’s hand. “Sarah? As always...” He set down his half full glass and left.
As the door shut behind him, Sarah smiled and said, “You’ve got the job.”
The morning run did little to relieve her nerves. Ben came out of the shower as she was buttoning up her suit blouse.
“You’re gonna be great.” He came up behind her and bear-hugged her.
“We’ll see.”
“It’s a plus that you got to meet him socially. He enjoyed you. Just relax and let that carry you through the interview.”
“His expectations are too high.”
“He’s expecting you to be extremely good. You are.”
“He’s expecting ‘the best,’ thanks to You Know Who.”
“All he wants is someone to get the job done who’s reliable and pleasant to work with. If there are high expectations involved, they’re coming from you, not him.”
“I got fired. How do I explain that?”
“Tell him you worked in a highly political office. Say your supervisor fought for you but in the end you both decided that the battles weren’t worth the reward. Ask him to please call Doug because he’s the best person to talk to them about your skills and work ethic.”
Meredith sighed. “Okay.”
Ben let her go. “Is that it? Okay?” He turned her around. “Did your fears decide it’s not worth fighting my voice of reason anymore?”
Meredith nodded.
“God, they gave up so easily. Is that the best they can do?”
“You’ve out-maneuvered them. For now.” She slipped on her suit jacket. “But they’re rallying somewhere deep in my brain.” She did her best Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation. “They’ll be back.”
The office looked expensive. Light and airy, with bursts of color from a few well-hung, dramatic canvases. Tiny, modern lights hung directly over the front reception desk. The receptionist was a young woman with dyed black hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore bright red lipstick and glasses Meredith could only describe as distinctive. She took Meredith's coat and offered her espresso or cappuccino, both of which Meredith declined. Instead, she sat down to wait as the receptionist used the phone to announce her arrival.
Peter came out himself and shook her hand. “Great to see you again. Come on back. I want to introduce you to David.”
David was in his office and they paused there for an introduction before moving to the conference room. David looked like his office. He was slender and healthy, with a shaved head that hid premature balding and kind, gray eyes. Like Peter, he wore a collarless shirt under his sports jacket. His office had three oil paintings hanging. Two looked like the same artist and were good examples of an emotional version of expressionism. The first was a mountain. Brushstrokes twisted and turned across rocks and sage. The other painting was all sky. A giant vista of the flat part of New Mexico where clouds somersaulted and splayed themselves across crystal clear blue. The last painting was abstract. Smaller than the others, it was a concise, compelling piece that Meredith's eyes kept returning to.
“It’s refreshing to see so much oil painting in one space,” Meredith commented. “I love the colors.”
“I love paintings with passion,” David told her. He cocked his head at her. “But I’m guessing that unlike me, who’s only an admirer, you’re a creator. Am I right?”
Meredith shrugged. “I do paint...”
“I thought so. You have that look about you.”
Meredith was in a suit, nude stockings, and black heels. Her hair was in a bun. She had on small, silver earrings. How on earth could he peg her as an artist?
“It’s the eyes,” he said, reading her thoughts. “There was hunger in them when you looked at my walls. You’d rather be painting all day than working, wouldn’t you?”
Meredith raised her eyebrows in surprise. He couldn’t peg her with everything, then. “No,” she said honestly. Then she tried to think of something intelligent to say. “Having the chance to paint full-time is what every artist thinks he or she wants. But I don’t want to rely on my art to live. If I can support myself another way, then I can paint for me, and not for the paycheck.”
David studied her. “Hmmm. Good point.”
“Shall we go back to the conference room?” Peter interrupted. He looked pleased. David agreed.
They ushered her ahead. Meredith had the distinct impression they were discussing her with looks and gestures during the brief walk down the hall. She was correct, she discovered, as they seated themselves in the conference room, a space created mostly by glass cinder blocks.
“We want you on our team,” Peter began without preamble. “What will it take?”
“You haven’t even interviewed me,” Meredith protested.
David nodded. “Yes we have.”
“We can start you at $65,000.” Peter told her. “I know it’s not much.”
Meredith held her breath. It was almost double her salary from UNM. She fought with every ounce of control not to tell them this.
“What more can we do?” David asked her.
Meredith could have said “Nothing,” and meant it. But she sensed they needed her to make a demand. She searched and found one, quite easily. “How much vacation do you give?”
“How much did you get at the U?”
“Four weeks, plus sick leave.”
“How about five?”
She almost fell out of her chair.
“We can’t show you your new office in Rio Rancho. But it’s nice.” Peter told her.
“And there’s a window,” David added.
Meredith opened her mouth to accept when Peter interrupted.
“Programming is not our area of expertise. But it’s crucial to our success as a business.” His eyes were wide with sincerity. “You tell us what you need, whenever you need it, and we’ll do everything in our power to get it for you.”
“That’s what we see as our biggest job as your boss,” David told her. “Helping you to help us. So what do you think? Will you jo
in us?”
Meredith thought she would cry. She reached out and shook both their hands. “I’d love to,” she told them.
Chapter Seventeen
Meredith paged Ben first. When he didn’t call back in fifteen minutes, she called Kira. She knew that Sarah was the right person to call, but she didn’t want to hear, “Of course you did.” She wanted surprise.
Kira was at her desk. “
“It’s Meredith. Guess what.”
“I signed the divorce papers.” Her voice was ragged.
“You did?”
Meredith heard her shut the office door. “Yes,” she whispered.
Meredith looked at her watch. It was only 9:30. She sighed inwardly and put her news away. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”
“How can I leave here?”
“Tell them you have a doctor’s appointment. I’ll drive by and pick you up. Meet me in front of the building in twenty-five minutes.” She hung up with Kira and paged Ben again, this time adding their emergency code of “911” after her number to signal urgency. She killed time by changing out of her suit. After fifteen more minutes, she couldn’t wait any longer so she hopped into her car and drove off to get Kira.
They got breakfast burritos to-go at the Frontier, a large, sprawling diner with good food and drove to Kira’s adobe.
As Kira fumbled with her keys in the lock, Meredith noticed eight small buds popping out of the soil. “God, it’s only March,” she marveled.
“Spring was March twenty-first.” Kira reminded her. The door swung open and they stepped inside.
“How are you doing?” Meredith asked as she unwrapped her burrito.
“Overwhelmed and numb. Very angry at Jeremy for badgering me into this. I guess I need to hire a lawyer. Jeez, that scares the crap out of me.”
They ate in silence while Meredith flipped through the yellow pages to Attorney. A number of them specialized in divorce. Dr. Pain, was one. Make them feel YOUR pain, he advertised. Meredith looked at Kira. She was eating a sopapilla with honey and sighing.
"You've worked so hard to get out of debt. I hate to see this ruin that."
"Meredith, I could care less about the money."
"Of course. I’m sorry.”
Kira pushed her plate of food away. “Did I ever tell you how Jeremy and I met? It was a setup. We’d seen each other before, but never talked. A mutual friend set it up. She thought we’d click. We didn’t know each other at all, but the second we opened our mouths, we couldn’t stop talking. We were up till three in the morning, finishing each other’s sentences...” She pushed her plate farther away. “With Jeremy it was like he was already built into my insides. I just needed him to click on the switch. It was discovering a new part of me. The next day, after our first date, our friend saw him and asked, ‘So? What did you think?’ And Jeremy clinched her in a dance move and gave her a twirl and told her, ‘That’s the girl I’m going to marry.’” She stopped and looked at Meredith expectantly. Meredith said nothing. “So can you see why I didn’t want this to end? We were soul mates.”
Meredith didn't know what to say.
Kira looked at her watch. “I’ve gotta get back to work.” She rewrapped her food and pushed it toward Meredith. “Here. Take this. I can’t even look at food right now.”
When Meredith got home, her message light was flashing.
“It’s Ben. Why did you page 911 and then leave? I don’t know if you’re en route to the ER or upset because your interview flopped. I’m really busy today. Page me when you’re going to be home for awhile and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
His voice seemed angry. Meredith didn’t really want to talk to him in that state so she called Sarah instead.
“Well?”
“I got the job.”
“Of course you did.” Meredith grimaced. Why couldn’t one person be surprised and happy for her? “When do you start?”
“On Monday. There’s no space for me now so they’re giving me a laptop. I’m going to do most of my work at home until the end of the month.”
“Sweet.”
“How’s Victor?” Meredith asked, thinking of Peter’s narrow hips and golden hair.
“Oh. Fine. Actually, really good. Things are going well. He might move in here.”
“To your apartment?”
“Well, it would be ‘ours,’ if it happens.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Me, I guess. I just don’t want to ruin a good thing. Living together will change things. He might stop appreciating me. Get bored.”
“Yes...”
“Or, I might get bored. I mean, what if I get sick of him being around all the time?”
“Then you’ll know he wasn’t the one for you.”
“Yeah, well. That’s easier to say than to feel. How about you and Ben? Any moves in the co-habitation direction from you?”
“Oh, it seems a little early for that. We haven’t dated that long.”
“Longer than Victor and I. When you know, you just know.”
“Maybe,” Meredith said. “But things can change. Especially after you commit.”
“Coward.”
“Me? I’m just trying to be realistic.”
“When is his residency over?”
“Oh, he’s still got...” Meredith stopped abruptly, startled by her own next words. “God, at the end of July. Last time I thought of it, it was almost a year away and now it’s...” she tried to do the math but her head was still in denial.
“Four months,” Sarah calculated helpfully.
“Shit.”
“Is he staying in Albuquerque?”
“I don’t know,” Meredith said, suddenly realizing that he very well may not be, if no job was waiting for him here. “We’ve never discussed it.”
“Would you follow him somewhere else?”
“I just got a new job,” Meredith answered, somewhat angrily.
“Well, maybe he’ll stay here,” Sarah said, somewhat doubtfully.
Suddenly, Meredith didn’t feel like talking to her any more.
“Sarah, I’ve gotta go. I’ve got a lot to do today.”
“Yeah. Talk to Ben.”
She hung up and started to page Ben, but the tone of his voice earlier made her wonder if a page would just be a nuisance right now. She tried to remember what rotation he was on and realized that she had no idea. He hadn’t mentioned what his plans were after his residency. She didn’t know if he wanted to stay in the southwest or return to Oregon. Or go somewhere completely different.
Still holding the phone, she walked over to the rocker and sat down. Mendra leapt off her window perch and moved silently across the floor to investigate Meredith's lap. After a little sniffing and turning, she curled herself up into a ball and began purring. Meredith thought that Ben liked it here. If she had to guess, she’d think that New Mexico was his first choice. But was Albuquerque? Maybe he’d prefer Santa Fe. She could recall enthusiastic descriptions of his camping trips in Colorado. He loved Boulder. She distinctly remembered him mentioning the strong computer industry there. Was that a hint that had flown over her head?
Could they do a long-distance relationship? She could imagine him in Boulder, the well-paid doctor, surrounded by a bunch of hairy-legged hippie girls. They’d be just his type. Not repressed and unyielding like she was. Those hippie girls would be able to tell him they loved him without having an anxiety attack. Meredith looked at Mendra. “So, we’ll decide to try the long-distance thing. He’ll move to Boulder and fall in love with someone else within the first few months. I’ll go on with my same old life, except I might add some more cats.” She stroked Mendra. “How would you like that?” She smiled at Mendra, but inside felt rage at the thought of some hippie girl making Ben fall in love with her.
The day passed quietly. Mostly, Meredith just sat, listening to NPR. In late afternoon, the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Ben. I’m glad to hear you’re a
live. Thanks for calling back.”
Meredith was taken aback. She couldn’t formulate the right words to defend herself under his anger. “I’m sorry,” she began.
“Why did you dial 911 and then leave?”
She didn’t want to share her news about the job with him right now. “I only had ten minutes. I thought you’d call me right back.”'
“Sometimes I’m too busy to do that. I don’t have the kind of job where I can drop everything to call Meredith.”
“Why are you so angry?” She asked, still shocked by the way he was talking to her.
There was a silence. “Meredith,” Ben finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m having a really bad day, I'm craving nicotine, and I’m taking it out on you. When you paged the first time, I was getting screamed at by a fifth-year resident in front of seven other doctors including the head of surgery. Then I got your second page with the 911 emergency code and I couldn’t reach you. I thought you’d been hurt. I kept looking for your head every time I was down in the ER in case you’d come here. I just wish you’d paged me back, even if I couldn’t return it. Just so I’d know you were home and okay.”
“I’m sorry. You just sounded so busy. I thought I’d be bugging you to page you again.”
“I specifically asked you to page me again.” His voice sounded pent up.
“Yes. I know. I’m sorry. I just got scared to call. I guess because you sounded angry.” She started crying. Why am I such a crybaby? I’ve got to get a hold of myself. Who cares if he’s mad at you? That’s no reason to get so upset. She hoped he couldn’t hear it in her voice. With her hand over the hole in the receiver, she tried to breathe with more control.
“I am angry. But it’s not at you. You know what? I think I’m going to hang up before I make this worse. I’m not getting out of here until late, so I’ll just go home.”
She didn’t want him to hang up until they’d had a better interaction. “Why don’t you come here anyway? Come late. I’ll make you dinner.”
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