Open Skies

by Marysol James

  “Hmmm. Maybe you’re right.”

  “OK, Tammy. I’ll see you at one-thirty.”

  “See you.”

  Julie felt better after hanging up the phone. So what if her deadbeat father left her some ranch in the middle of nowhere? She didn’t have to keep it, did she? No. If Hawkins was right, she could sell the damn place and scoop a tidy sum, a little extra money to start her life with Steve when they got married next year. Maybe they could even honeymoon in Hawaii and buy an apartment right in New York City, one big enough to start a family. Right now, that was out of the question, but with a surprise windfall? Maybe it could happen.

  What would not happen, she knew, was that she’d move to Colorado to take over a hotel. Especially one with horses.

  **

  “I’m sorry. I just what? According to who?”

  Julie stared in horror and confusion at Timothy Wheeler. How could she have just lost her job?

  She had taken over as Director of New Business Development at Plum Designs just nine months earlier. In that time, she’d brought in five contracts, big ones. The last job was for Josephine Lockley, who had wanted her summer home completely redesigned, from top to bottom. Julie had handled that one personally, and had worked her butt off for two months on the countless changes that Mrs. Lockley had demanded. Nights, weekends, public holidays – Julie had worked them all. But that summer home was now a marvel of design, technology, and relaxation. Julie loved it: a cabin on the lake, with high ceilings and huge windows and fresh colors everywhere. It had net Wheeler about $200,000 after clearing all expenses, she knew. So why was she being fired?

  Wheeler spread his hands. “Julie, we just aren’t sure that you’re the best person to head up the NBD department.”

  “Tim. I have brought in huge clients for you. The Merton & Grey offices contract alone guarantees work for three people for the next six months. What, exactly, am I not doing correctly?’

  “You don’t have a strong enough sales background.”

  She stared at him. “Tim, I have no sales background. And you knew that when you promoted me. I even pointed it out when you made me the offer. I was an interior designer for nine years – that’s where I come from. It wasn’t a problem nine months ago, when I accepted the job. Why is it an issue now?”

  Wheeler looked down and fiddled with his tie. Julie was right, of course, and he knew it. He had made her the offer, and she had pointed out her lack of sales experience, and he had waved it off. And truthfully, she had risen to the occasion admirably: the Lockley job had given Plum Designs a cachet among the New York society set that he’d craved and chased for almost a decade.

  But his son-in-law had just graduated with an MBA from Harvard and was looking for a job. The kid was bright and seemed keen. He’d shown up at Wheeler’s house the past weekend with a massive presentation of ideas to attract new business. He had lists of potential clients and a Rolodex of impressive connections. OK, he knew nothing at all about interior design, but did he really need to? Sales was sales, Wheeler figured, and all Jimmy had to do was set up the meetings, get the business, and hand the design stuff over to the trained professionals.

  Far more importantly, his daughter Sophie was refusing to let him and his wife see their grandson until he found a job for Jimmy. He’d looked around, of course, made a few calls. But the job market was tight right now, and besides, Sophie had demanded a certain salary. None of Wheeler’s contacts had offered anywhere close to that. This was the only solution that he could come up with. It was too bad that Julie was the sacrificial lamb, but he wanted to see Jimmy Junior, and this was the price that he had to pay. It was worth it.

  “Julie, I’m sorry. I understand that you’re upset. But we do want you stay on.”

  “As what?”

  “As a designer, of course.”

  Julie stared at Wheeler in disbelief. She’d always thought of him as a fussy little man who wore too much cologne, but he’d never struck her as completely stupid.

  “You actually expect me to stay here after this?”

  “You could be Head of Design. Your salary would have to drop quite a bit, but at least you’d have a job.”

  “You don’t get it, do you, Tim? I can’t accept that kind of demotion. It’s totally humiliating.”

  “Look, Julie. Business is business, and this is my company, it’s my show. I have to make these kinds of decisions sometimes.”

  “I fully understand that, Tim. But you’re essentially firing someone from a position in which they’re actually doing a good job. I just can’t stay here under those circumstances.”

  Wheeler shrugged. “The market is tough as hell right now. Nobody’s hiring, and if you tried to start your own thing, you’d need at least two years to be financially stable. Probably longer.”

  Julie realized that this was exactly what he had been counting on when he decided to take away her promotion. He was hoping that she’d be so grateful to still be employed, she’d eat the insult. Well, forget that. She was no fresh-out-of-college intern, desperate for a nice company name on her CV, prepared to work eighteen hours a day for less than she was worth. She’d done her time in the typing pool, fetching coffee, photocopying and smiling with all her teeth showing as men patted her butt and hit on her. Those days were gone, long gone. Julie Everett was now a respected, sought-after, in-demand interior designer who didn’t have to beg or bow to anyone. Not ever again.

  For the second time in as many hours, Julie Everett felt her perfect, carefully-constructed world shake on its foundations, and this time, it made her furious. There was no need to call on the blue room; she had bypassed panic and gone straight to being pissed off.

  She had worked too hard and too long to let this fat little joke of a man humiliate her: appearance was everything to Julie, and she could not – would not – abide looking weak. She called on her coldest, most professional tone and body language. Time to scare the living hell out of Timothy Wheeler.

  “No deal, Tim,” she said calmly, crossing her legs. “You’re demoting me for no legally justifiable reason. I’ve performed well. The clients I’ve brought in will account for almost fifty percent of this year’s turnover. The clients are happy – they’ve recommended Plum based on my work, and the work of the team under my leadership.” Her eyes flashed and she straightened her slim shoulders. “If you want me out as NBD Director, fine. But I’m not staying here. If you want me to go quietly and not make any trouble for you, you’d better offer me one hell of a severance package.”

  Tim Wheeler stared at her, furious. Who did she think she was, dictating terms to him? Did she really think that she’d find another job so quickly? Well, let the little princess find out the hard way: she’d be broke and back begging in three months. He’d wait.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll have legal draw up some terms. They’ll get it to you by the end of the week.”

  “Fine.”

  “And you’ll clean out your desk today?” he said.

  Julie stood up. “It’ll be my pleasure. But before I leave this building, I want something in writing from you, confirming that I’ll receive a fair severance offer from Plum by the end of this week.”

  Wheeler flushed. Bitch. He’d been planning to get her pert butt out of the building, and then pretend that he’d never agreed to a package. Then again, if he didn’t come through, he got the feeling that she’d open up her perfect little pouty mouth and trash him all over New York. Jesus Christ. Fine. Agree to pay the little diva to shut up, but just get her out of here.

  “Agreed. I’ll get Cindy to type up a standard termination agreement, with a stipulation that final severance details will be decided within five days.”

  Julie nodded tartly and swept out without another word. No handshake, no thank you for the years of employment, no best wishes offered. She simply withdrew, became distant and remote. She was good at that.

  Wheeler sat down at his mahogany desk and glared at her back as she walked away on th
ose shapely legs. Yeah, she’d figure out soon enough that the world outside of these walls was tough and competitive. Let her enjoy being all self-righteous and arrogant. That attitude wouldn’t last for long – reality would hit her soon enough.

  **

  Julie stood outside on the street, feeling horribly unbalanced. She caught her reflection in the plate-glass window of the lobby area and was relieved to see that she looked pulled-together and brisk. Not a hair out of place, no signs of stress or distress on her face. She raised her chin slightly and met her own gaze.

  She was carrying one small box of her personals: her coffee cup, some photos of her and Steve on vacation, her day planner. The heavier stuff, like her reference books and samples, would be sent to her apartment by courier. Her personal assistant – no, wait, her ex-personal assistant, Tricia – said that she’d arrange it all and not to worry about it.

  Julie looked down at her watch and was astounded to see that it was just 11:25 a.m. How was it possible that in the space of just two hours, her whole life had been so completely upended?

  OK, she thought. Go home. Just go home, call Steve and ask him to come home early and curse Tim Wheeler with you. Call Tammy and cancel lunch – have her meet you later for a few drinks. Deep breaths, girl. Give nothing away. It’s all going to be OK.

  She hailed a cab, and clambered in to the back seat. She watched the street outside and tried to stay positive. She had some savings, but not enough to last more than four – maybe five, if she was careful – months if she had no additional income at all. New York was a crazy-expensive city, and even with Steve’s good job at the bank, he wouldn’t be able to support them both for more than another four months. At most. Everything was riding on this severance offer; she hoped for at least three months’ salary in a lump sum payment. That would take some of the heat off.

  She was relieved when the ride home took less than thirty minutes; traffic had gone her way, for once. She came in to the lobby of her building and checked the mail. Urgh. Credit card bills. She stuffed them in to her purse and decided to look at them after a glass of wine. Maybe two.

  She got off the elevator on the fifth floor, fumbled around in her purse and found her keys. She walked in to the tiny entrance area, and put the box on the table. She kicked off her teetering Jimmy Choos – amazing, sexy shoes that lengthened her legs and dropped ten pounds off her curvy frame, but they pinched her baby toes – and walked in to the living room, wondering if a Margarita a few minutes before noon was in order.

  Then, she heard them. Voices. Voices in the bedroom.

  She stood, stock-still, frozen, disbelieving.

  Oh, my God. This is not happening. This is not happening, all these things happening, everything falling apart, all at the same time.

  As quietly as possible, she walked in her sheer-stockinged feet to the bedroom. Cocking her head and holding her breath, she listened at the door.

  Two voices. Steve’s. And a woman’s.

  The door was open just a crack and she peeked in, trying to see who the woman was. But her bathrobe was hanging off the back of the door and blocked her full view.

  She waited three heartbeats and then slammed her open palm on the door. It burst open, crashing in to the wall, and rebounding back, hitting her painfully on the toe.

  Steve was in bed – in her bed, in their bed – with a blonde. The woman screamed and dove under the covers; Steve jumped to his feet. He was naked.

  Something inside of Julie just closed up in that moment: the soft, sweet, vulnerable part of her heart just froze and died as she stared at her fiancé. Steven Bryce was one of the very few men that she’d actually allowed herself to get close to in the whole of her life. Because of him, she’d started to believe in love, in good men, in happiness with another person.

  And now it was all gone.

  Blue. Blue. Blue.

  Deep breaths. Don’t get dizzy, don’t fall down. Breathe in the blue.

  Steve and Julie had met three years before, when Julie had been the project manager on the complete renovation and redesign of the bank where Steve worked. Even though she’d been in and out of Head Office for four months while the plans were finalized and approved, and to deliver weekly progress reports, they’d barely spoken.

  She had noticed him, of course. With his athletic frame and broad shoulders and strong arms, he was easy on the eyes – and that was all before you saw his face. Dark, wavy hair framed chiselled cheekbones, a sensual mouth, and a nose with a bit of a bump on it. It annoyed her that she’d noticed this small detail about his nose, but she had.

  His warm brown eyes made her melt every time he looked at her, and it took literally every ounce of her self-control to remain aloof with him as he flirted outrageously in the office hallway. She figured that any man who looked like that would have multiple women hanging around, hoping for a bit of his attention, jumping in to his bed. Julie had no interest in being one of many, nor did she want to get in to a relationship of any kind. Emotional closeness was emotional weakness, she knew, and weak was not a word that she wanted associated with her.

  It was at the party to celebrate and show off the redesign that he’d finally made his move. Steve had been tireless in trying to get her to talk to him, and he’d been attentive and polite all evening. Finally, she asked him just what he expected from her, since if he was after a one-night-stand, he’d been wasting his time on the wrong woman.

  He had looked down at her in confusion. Here was this gorgeous woman – smart, talented, creative – asking him what he might want from her? His eyes had travelled up and down her body: she was the exact opposite of the New York professional woman ideal of tall, thin, leggy blonde beauty. Despite the ‘Stay away from me’ sign that she had practically emblazoned across her forehead, he was powerfully attracted to her. Short and curvy, she looked like a fresh peach – juicy and lush and curved and ripe. He liked it. He had looked down at her and said that he wasn’t interested in a one-night-stand, either, and could they go for dinner the next night?

  Julie had refused, and then refused his next invitation two days later. She had turned him down, steadily, for almost three months, before Tammy had told her to get her head out of her ass and just meet the man for coffee, already. Julie had relented, and it had begun. Two years later, they were engaged. That was less than four months ago, and now here she was, catching him in bed with a tall, thin, leggy blonde beauty.

  Julie stared at him. “I don’t believe it. Really?”

  “What – what are you doing home?” he said.

  “What am I doing home?”

  He looked down as if he was aware of his nudity for the first time and then grabbed the top cover on the bed. The blonde fought him for it, and they briefly struggled. Julie watched this silently for a few seconds, then she stepped forward and grabbed the cover in both hands. She pulled as hard as she could and ripped it off the bed, completely exposing Steve and the woman.

  The blonde screamed again, and crossed her legs and covered her breasts with her hands. Julie looked down and found a skirt, blouse, and cardigan on the floor, next to a pair of glossy chestnut high heels. A very nice mocha-colored lace bra and matching thong were under the bed.

  She picked everything up. “Are these yours?”

  The woman bit her lip. “Yes.”

  “Hmmm,” Julie said. She blinked at the woman.

  “Julie, just hand them over,” Steve said.

  “Don’t you say one word to me,” she told him in the iciest tone she could summon. “Not. One. Word.”

  She walked over to the glass balcony door and slid it open.

  “Wait!” the woman said in a panic. “Are you going to throw my clothes off the balcony?”

  “I am,” Julie said. “Unless you answer every single question that I ask you.”

  The woman nodded frantically. “Anything.”

  “OK. Who the hell are you?”

  “Nadia Bayliss. I work at the bank with Steve.”


  “OK, Nadia. How long have you been screwing my fiancé?”

  Nadia’s eyes widened. “Fiancé?”

  “Oh, you didn’t know about that? That we were engaged?” Julie raised her left hand and displayed the ring. “That’s news, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you mean, ‘we were engaged’?” Steve asked.

  Julie turned her attention to him for the briefest second. “What do you mean, what do I mean? Are you for real? You do know that I caught you practically with your dick inside another woman, right?”

  “But…”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  He closed his mouth and put on his boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

  Julie regarded Nadia, narrowed her eyes. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Four – four months.”

  Four months. They had been engaged just four months.

  Oh, dear God. This all started right after the engagement? The whole time that I’ve been looking at dresses and we’ve been choosing venues and thinking about where to honeymoon, they’ve been sleeping together? I’ve been so stupid.

  Julie was relieved when her voice came out flat and disinterested. “And have you guys been here before? In my bedroom?”

  “Y – Yes,” Nadia faltered.

  “So the fact that he lives with a woman isn’t news, right?”

  “What – what do you mean?”

  Julie gestured around her. “The women’s shoes by the door, Nadia. My makeup in the bathroom. My jewelry on the dresser, my books on the bedside table. My clothes in the closet. It’s not news that a woman lives here. Is it?”

  Nadia shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

  “Thank you, Nadia.” Julie threw the bundle of clothes at her, taking care to aim it directly at her head. She was gratified when the shoes made a satisfyingly loud clunk against Nadia’s skull. “You can go get dressed now. I’m sure Steve will be calling you later.”

  Nadia clutched her clothing in front of her and dashed in to the living room. Julie heard scrambling noises, a zipper, shoes clattering on the floor. The whole time she stood facing Steve, frozen. Nadia’s news that the cheating had gone on for four months had hurt Julie, but now she wasn’t hurting anymore. Now she was numb.