“It’s business, Grant. You know that.” Joe Thomas, chairman of Essex Corporation, pushed a piece of paper across the table. “Here’s the list. You can see we didn’t target your employees. Almost twice that many are people who were on our payroll before the buyout or who work in other divisions. You’ve got to remember, we’re a bigger corporation, and we have to look at the health of the entire company.”
Grant studied the paper. Some of the names he recognized, but many he didn’t. It gave him the confirmation he wanted. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “That’s a lot of people, Joe.”
“With oil prices bottoming out, the petroleum division is taking a hit. Market’s down and investors are skittish.” Leaning forward, Joe tapped the document. “Every one of those names was chosen for a reason. We gave it a lot of thought. The people on that list either weren’t pulling their weight, or they were in areas where we had some duplication. A few of them are close enough to retirement that they should be all right. They got generous severance packages.”
“Why didn’t I know about this before it happened?”
Joe ran a hand over his face. “I’ll be honest with you, Grant. We considered it. I wasn’t a hundred percent comfortable keeping it from you, but come on, you probably would’ve given yourself an ulcer. You were too close to it. Don and I agreed this was the best way. I’m sorry it caught you by surprise. I really am. But this way you can honestly tell people you had nothing to do with it. You are guilt-free, my friend.”
When he put it like that, it made sense, Grant supposed. Knowing about the lay-offs wouldn’t have stopped them. Finally, Grant stood, and extended his hand. “Thanks for taking the time to see me.”
“Always good to see you, Grant. Go enjoy your retirement,” Joe told him. “Do all the things you’ve been talking about. And stay in touch. I’d like to hear about your trip to South America. Maybe we’ll get involved in something like that one of these days.”
“That’d be great,” Grant agreed. “Just remember, people won’t take kindly to you doing charity work in another country while you’re laying off people in your own community.”
Joe nodded. “Point taken. Might have to get you back on the payroll as a consultant one of these days, too.”
“No time soon,” Grant told him. “Got a busy year coming up.”
It had been shaping up to be busy even before Sara’s announcement. Adding her move and a new baby to the agenda might crunch the calendar. He wouldn’t be taking on any business-related projects.
Joe slapped him on the back. “You take care.”
Grant left the Essex offices feeling better, if not exactly guilt-free. Joe was right. It was better that he hadn’t known. At least he hadn’t misread Joe. The guy was decent and had been fair. With that off his chest, Grant could think about other things – like the upcoming opportunity to walk his eldest daughter down the aisle, traveling with his wife, and now, looking forward to being a grandpa. Not just busy – momentous.
Finalizing plans for going to Bolivia on the Building Neighbors project was next on his list. The final payment was due, and they’d scheduled an online meeting for Nov. 1 for those who committed. He’d never been away from Mary for that long, but he had a feeling the time would fly by – at least for her. While he was building roads and bridges in foreign lands, she’d probably spend some time with Claire, and of course, Sara and the baby. She’d enjoy the girl time. Wouldn’t be too long after he got back before they left on their Alaskan cruise. That one was on the bucket list – part of the plan to visit all fifty states. Payoff for years of hard work.
He found Mary at her computer, scribbling notes on a pad of paper, deep in concentration. Grant tapped softly on the door. “Hey.”
Mary looked up and removed her reading glasses. Her face lit up with a bright smile. “Hi, there. How’d it go?”
Grant entered the room and propped himself against the desk. “Good. He showed me the numbers. I still don’t like people being let go, but it looks like they were fair. Folks need to move on.”
“Exactly!” Mary said. “And we can help with that. I’ve already got a couple of agencies interested in doing an employment workshop in Whitfield. They’ll help people with résumés and interviewing skills, and how to work with headhunters. They can–”
“I’m not sure it’s necessary,” Grant cut in.
Mary’s eyes widened. “I’m sure it’s not necessary, but maybe a nice thing to do. Shows some goodwill.”
Grant nodded, wondering how her idea might be received. “Babe, how’s it going to generate goodwill if people don’t even know we’re doing it?”
“That doesn’t matter,” she told him. “The point is that someone is thinking of them and offering them some assistance. No one wants to feel cast aside and forgotten. Jane seems to think it’s a good idea.”
Grant held up his hands surrender style. “I don’t have a problem with it if you can get it pulled together in the next couple of weeks. Folks’ll already be starting to look.”
“I know.” She grinned up at Grant. “Don’t worry, love. I can make this happen.”
He planted a kiss on her cheek. “Did I ever say I doubted it?”
When she rolled her head, he put both hands on her shoulders and began massaging them. “Stiff neck?”
“Yeah. I could hardly turn my head this morning. It’s better now, though.” She smiled up at him. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said, brushing his lips to hers. “Mmm. You about done here?”
“Getting close,” she said.
“No meetings?”
“Not today.”
“No cleaning lady?”
“Nooo. Why?”
The laughter in her voice told Grant she knew exactly the reason behind his questions. He slid a hand under her hair, stroking the base of her neck. “I’m thinking there are certain benefits to being retired…”
“Uh-huh. Like being home in the middle of the day?”
Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her up from the chair and against his chest. “Like both of us being home in the middle of the day.”
“I suppose I could use a diversion,” Mary said, a soft smile playing around her lips.
* * *
Glancing at the clock, Mary settled back into her office chair, ready to pick up where she’d left off. Grant was right – the workshop needed to happen fast. Nailing down some details would help her face any hostility she might encounter around town this week. She wasn’t sure her husband fully understood how important camaraderie and the feeling of we’re-all-in-this-together was in her world of philanthropy and community spirit.
Besides, it was good for her to keep busy, though she admitted, with so many things going on at once, she was having trouble focusing. She figured she had to wait until at least six o’clock before checking in with Sara to see how her announcement had been received. Maybe if she gave it enough time, Sara would do the checking in.
Mary opened her email and found what she was hoping for – a list of potential dates and times available at the community center. Looked as though there were plenty of options. She was just about to hit send with the times she wanted when she saw the part about the online form. Ugh. She hated online reservations. With a heavy sigh, she filled in the form and hit send. And the screen went blank.
Groaning, Mary picked up the phone. “Should’ve called in the first place,” she grumbled. When a female voice came on the line, Mary explained the situation.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the receptionist said. “We’ve been having some computer problems. Let me take that information for you.”
Mary gave her name and the dates.
“And what is the event, again?” the woman asked.
“An employment seminar.”
“Right.”
“I’ve been working with Elaine to set this up. The client is actually On Track Employment Services. They’ll be handling all the event details. Elaine has their information.”
“Great. I’ll get this to her. Thanks for calling.”
Mary had made her decision on the agency, going with her gut reaction to the two representatives she’d spoken with earlier. She hoped the woman was as competent as she seemed on the phone. “Let’s say seven to nine on Thursday evening, and then two to four on Saturday,” she told Wendy Miles, director at On Track. “That gives people a choice.”
“Absolutely. That’s a good idea. We’ll plan for the first session to focus on résumé writing and job research. The second session can focus more on interviewing and presentation.”
“I want it to be casual, but nice. Let’s provide coffee and water and some soft drinks. And some snacks.”
“Sure. We can do that.”
“And what about a goodie bag? Maybe some office supplies, a flash drive or USB charger and a couple of pens?”
“That would be very nice,” Wendy agreed. “But it would significantly add to the cost.”
“Yes. We’ll cover the costs.”
“All right. We can make those purchases for you wholesale. And, of course, everyone who attends will get our packet with sample résumés, tips and resource materials.”
“Perfect. This sounds wonderful.”
“Let me write all of this up, and I’ll email you a contract tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Thank you, Wendy. I’ll look forward to that. And I’ll get you the names and addresses of people who should receive paper invitations.”
Mary hung up the phone and twirled around, the accomplishment infusing her with a little rush of adrenaline. She had to admit that, like a junkie, she enjoyed the high. It was tempting to keep going, to put together a flyer and contact the newspaper for some publicity, but if she wanted to remain anonymous, she’d have to rely on Wendy for all of that. Instead, she called Jane.
“Hey, I’ve been nailing down the details for the job workshop,” Mary told her.
“Yeah, how’s that coming?”
“It’s going to be fabulous. I can’t believe how it’s all falling into place. Here’s the deal. It’ll be open to the whole community, for anyone who wants to attend. But the agency will mail invitations to the people laid off from Essex. That way it doesn’t look like we’re sponsoring it, and there’s no mention of Essex. What do you think?”
“Sure. Sounds great, Mare.”
“Do you think Doug will come?”
“Oh, I don’t know about Doug. Corey, maybe. He’s been talking about looking for a new job. Would that be okay?”
“Well, of course. Your husband, your son, your dog…the more, the merrier. I’m hoping the people laid off will come, but who knows?”
“I’m sure they will, Mare. It sounds wonderful. You and Grant are going above and beyond with this.”
“I don’t want kudos, I just want to help. Listen, Jane. I’d really like to keep this under wraps. Can we keep it between us? Don’t tell anyone that Grant and I are involved, okay?”
“Lips are sealed.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” Mary ended the call with slightly less enthusiasm. Another secret. She wanted to make the workshop happen, but the number of things she was keeping from people was starting to add up. And it made her nervous.
That brought her thoughts right back to her daughter. With super willpower, Mary shoved the phone aside and turned her attention to the agenda for this week’s women’s auxiliary meeting. It was her final volunteer commitment until after Annie’s wedding. She was anxious to check it off the list.
* * *
Evening meetings were always harder to get motivated for. The days were getting shorter and colder, and curling up at home in front of the television sounded better and better. At least people were usually in a good mood for this one. Even if they’d had a rough week, everyone would be looking forward to Friday – a sure-fire mood-lifter. Mary shrugged into her denim jacket, said goodbye to Grant, and backed the Acura out of the garage. She considered switching on the seat heater but figured the warmth could easily lull her to sleep.
Climbing out of the car, Mary took a moment to let the cool night air blow against her face. Then, heels tapping against the tiled floors, she walked into the meeting at the Legion Hall – and looked straight into the icy stare of Regina Daniels. Caught off guard, Mary froze in the doorway. Was it her imagination, or had the room gone silent? Mary sucked in a deep breath. This had to end. She’d speak to Regina tonight and settle this if it killed her. The chairs on either side of Regina were already taken, so Mary smiled and took a seat across the table. But when Regina got up to refill her coffee, Mary made a beeline for the coffee station.
“Regina,” she said, her voice low. “Listen, I want to tell you how sorry I am, Grant and I both are, about Bobby losing his job.
Regina turned, eyebrows raised. “Why are you sorry? Was it your fault?”
Taken aback, Mary faltered. “Well, no. Of course not. We had no idea this was coming. Still, we feel bad about–”
“I hear you’re planning some kind of pity session for everyone. Helping people write résumés or something.”
Mary’s face flushed hot, and it took a moment to find her voice. “Excuse me? A pity session? What are you talking about? I– I’m helping the community center organize a job search event. It’s for the whole community. We hope people laid off from Essex will take advantage of it, but–”
“Feeling guilty? Is that it?”
“Since when does someone have to be guilty to want to do something good, Regina? I don’t understand. What’s bad about trying to help out?” And how the hell had she found out about the workshop?
“Right. This is so typical. You sit up there in your fancy house – like kings in your castle, and you want everyone to love you for tossing out a bone to the rest of us. Well, get over yourself. No one wants your help.”
Someone cleared her throat, and they both turned toward the conference table. “Ladies, I think it’s about time to get started.” A wide-eyed Gloria Swanson, president of the auxiliary, stared at them.
With a shaking hand, Mary lifted her cup and returned to her chair. She picked up the papers in front of her and looked at them without seeing a thing. She heard almost nothing of the meeting and contributed the same. They sometimes got into debates about programs and procedures or something as trivial as a menu item, but never had Mary been publicly attacked like this. She didn’t move her head until Kelly Jessup, also a member of her book club, nudged her arm and pushed a tablet toward her.
Don’t worry about her, the note read. Mary almost smiled. Passing notes at their age. She drew in a calming breath and turned her attention to their VP of finance. When Gloria declared the meeting adjourned what seemed like hours later, Mary gave Kelly’s arm a squeeze. “Thanks,” she whispered. She hurried around the table, determined to have a last word with her adversary.
“Regina, wait.”
Regina stopped and sent Mary a long-suffering look.
“Listen, I just want to clear the air,” Mary said. “I understand you’re upset. I– we don’t want to make things worse. We want to help however we can.”
“Haven’t you done enough, already? You can’t just butt out, can you? Good God, you want to run the whole damn town. The City Council. Every committee. Every event. What’s next, running for mayor?”
Not a bad idea, was the first thing that popped into Mary’s head. Thankfully, it didn’t come out her mouth as well. Grant had, in fact, been approached about running for mayor a few years back. He’d considered it and had tucked the notion in his back pocket for possible retirement. And Mary had been appointed to the council when Simon Pritchett and his family had moved after the tornado. She was simply finishing his term. Not a control thing. They loved Whitfield, wanted to be involved. Wanted to see it thrive and be a part of that. That was the fun of living in a small town.
With all the poise she could muster, Mary spoke quietly. “Losing a job is never an easy thing to deal with,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice from quivering. “I hope Bobby finds an even better job and discovers some new opportunities that–”
Regina gave a harsh scoff and turned away. “Oh, he will.”
Mary headed for her car with much less pep in her step than when she’d arrived. Inside, she rolled her neck, and ignored the buzzing of her phone. In the short distance back home, she mulled Regina’s words. Of course, the woman was angry. Mary could understand that. What she didn’t understand was the need some people had to cast blame when something bad happened. For whatever reason, they couldn’t accept that bad things just…happened.
Anyway, she refused to take it personally. She’d do what she could to help, and she and Grant would go on with their lives, participating and being contributing members of the community.
Still, the idea of having an enemy didn’t set well.