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ELIZA STARED AT THE screen of her computer and tried to make sense of the Egyptian tour packages. This was not her first time navigating the temples and pyramids for an indecisive customer, but for some reason, today she just couldn’t.
Her pulse throbbed in her ears, and her palms began to sweat. Usually, her panic attacks didn’t strike until she’d returned home for the evening. That was when the paralyzing reality of Phillip’s betrayal and desertion crept in on her and rendered her useless. She’d sit at his empty desk and open and close all the drawers. As if she might find the cure for her anguish hidden somewhere in plain sight.
“Hello? Are you still there?” a voice groaned through her headset.
“My apologies, Mr. Sanders. I’m comparing prices to find you the best deal.”
“I don’t care about the price. I just want to see something ancient and awe-inspiring and sleep in a bed that doesn’t kill my back. Can you manage that?”
“Absolutely.” Eliza knew the script. She could recite it in her sleep. But today was the first time she wasn’t entirely sure if she could deliver. “How about I email everything to you this evening?”
“Whatever. Bill my charge card.”
Mr. Sanders hung up, and Eliza exhaled a sigh of relief as she slouched in her chair. When her boss appeared in the entrance of her cubicle, her back went rigid again.
“Mr. Chang,” she greeted him with a tight smile. “How can I help you?”
Mr. Chang fiddled with his cufflinks, a sure sign he wasn’t there to deliver good news. The nervous tell had given him away when he’d announced the reduced Christmas bonuses last year, and again when he’d rolled out the amended quota standards and disciplinary procedures.
“I just got off the phone with Michael Benson’s wife,” Mr. Chang said before pausing to clear his throat and touching his cufflinks again. “Did you know that he’s been relying on us to plan his family’s vacations for twelve years now?”
“I didn’t. That’s amazing.” Eliza’s smile felt stiff on her face. She wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was going, but she doubted it was anywhere good. “I’ve only had his account for the eight years I’ve been here—which I’m very grateful for. In fact, I believe I just booked his family for a cruise last month—”
“That was the reason for Mrs. Benson’s call.” His face crumpled into a patronizing scowl. “The schedule you sent them was for the wrong month.”
Eliza closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it right away—”
“Actually, I’ve already turned that account over to Sabrina, along with the Holman account you botched last week.”
“I’m really really sorry,” Eliza said, wringing the hem of her blouse. Her cheeks flushed as Mr. Chang gave her wrinkled clothing a once over.
“So am I.” He sighed and retrieved an envelope from his breast pocket. “You’re clearly going through a tough time right now, but when your work suffers, so does the company and my good name. You understand, don’t you?”
“Understand what?” Eliza’s eyes darted from the envelope back to Mr. Chang. “You’re... you’re firing me?”
“It’s a more than fair severance package.” His scowl softened, as if he were relieved that she’d said it out loud so he didn’t have to. “And I’ll be happy to write you a letter of recommendation,” he added. The statement was more threat than favor.
Eliza pressed her lips together. She could think of nothing more satisfying than giving Mr. Chang a piece of her mind, but she knew better. Burning that bridge would ensure she never landed a job in the travel industry again.
Someone like Veronica would had done it anyway, dropping more than a few choice four-letter words, and gone into business for herself. Veronica didn’t do well with authority or group activities, and that had been a big reason for her early college departure. Eliza had dropped out for a different reason. She was allergic to math. Starting a business and having to maintain her own books was a horrifying prospect.
Mr. Chang handed her an empty copy paper box and hurried away, clearly glad the exchange was done. Eliza craned her neck to see over the edge of her cubicle and watched him go, debating whether or not she had the balls to go out in a blaze of glory and perpetual unemployment. Mr. Chang’s shoulders were bunched up under his ears, as if he too wondered about the size of her balls. But he finally relaxed as he reached his private office, where Eliza knew he would watch her from between the slits in the vertical blinds until she’d left the building.
She cleared out her desk in a daze and collected the row of potted succulents that stood vigil behind a picture taken of Phillip and her at their engagement party. She hadn’t told anyone at work about their separation. It was too painful. Too embarrassing.
But even more embarrassing than that was the fact that not one of her coworkers offered sympathy or a helping hand as she headed for the exit with her box in tow. She hadn’t been that close to many of them, but she’d been kind. She’d bought cupcakes whenever there was a birthday, and she’d donated generously to the flower fund for births and funerals. Ungrateful louts.
“Let me get that for you.” A perky blond with wine-red talons for nails was on her way inside the building. She held the door open wide. The unabashed grin on the woman’s face made Eliza wonder if she was clueless or a sadist. What kind of person exuded that kind of joy at someone who had clearly just been canned?
“Thanks,” Eliza muttered, stalking past the woman.
“Eliza? Eliza Brooks?”
Hearing her maiden name gave Eliza pause.
“Do we know each other?” she asked over her shoulder as she headed for her car. She had no interest in standing around in front of her former place of employment with a box that might as well have had FIRED written all over it.
“I should say so. We graduated from high school together.”
Eliza stuffed the box in the trunk of her car and turned to face the woman, taking a closer look at her face, the shape of her eyes and the single dimple in her left cheek. The blond hair and the inflated boob job had thrown her off, but she was right. They did know each other. Eliza blinked stiffly.
“Morgan Sallenger?”
“It’s Vitz now.” Morgan gave her a gloating grin.
“My mistake. I’d heard you’d gotten divorced.” Eliza glanced down at the woman’s bare ring finger, inspiring a dirty look from Morgan.
“We did, but I’d already made a name for myself with his, so I kept it. I don’t suppose you have to worry about that in a profession like yours.”
Eliza ignored the insult. “A name for yourself in...?”
“I’m Buckner and Lloyd’s newest law associate. Speaking of—” Morgan propped a fist on her hip and handed Eliza a manila envelope. “You’ve been served.”
* * * * *
THERE WERE BAD DAYS, and then there were bad days. The kind that begged one to shut off the world and head straight to bed just to get it over with as soon as possible. Just to ensure nothing worse happened.
Eliza had to remind herself to breathe the entire drive home. She kept waiting for someone to rear-end her, or for a tire to blow out. There was no telling what else the universe had in store. When she finally entered her apartment, she took a deep breath. It was more to check for a gas leak than to calm her nerves. She’d need something a bit stronger for that.
Eliza dropped her box of desk clutter onto the kitchen counter and dug out the envelope Morgan had delivered. She hadn’t opened it yet. She hadn’t opened her letter of termination to discover just how fair her severance package was yet either. She found it next and took both documents into the empty home office.
Phillip had cleared out his personal belongings, but he’d overlooked the generic minibar that blended in with the dark wainscoting lining the room. Eliza helped herself to a half-empty bottle of scotch inside the lower cabinet of the minibar, filling a fat cocktail glass before circling the desk. She placed the envelopes side by side and stared at them as she sipped her drink, hoping it would fortify her courage.
The apartment was quieter than usual. Mr. Chang had let her go a couple hours before closing time, and rush hour traffic wouldn’t create its familiar din for a while longer yet. Eliza kicked off her heels and paced the room. On her fifth trip back from the empty bookcase, she tripped over a wastebasket tucked behind the desk. If not for the office chair, she would have faceplanted onto the hardwood floor.
Scotch sloshed from her glass onto the leather seat. Eliza gasped and tried to soak up the booze with a wad of tissues that had been tossed from the wastebasket. Then, among the scattered refuse, she spotted the postcard announcing her class reunion. It was tonight.
The white lace dress still hung in her closet, but after the events of the day, it seemed like a terrible idea. What if Morgan made an appearance? What if she told everyone about Eliza’s impending divorce? Or that she’d been fired?
She already knew what Veronica would have to say. What a perfect job-hunting opportunity! Plus, free pity drinks all night. And Phillip could stand to hear about you having a great time without him. Win-win-win.
Eliza took another drink of scotch as she considered the idea. It wasn’t like her at all to throw caution and humility to the wind. But maybe that was her problem. And maybe it was time to do something about it.
She tilted her glass over the leather chair and emptied it, hoping Phillip had requested the rest of his office furniture in the divorce papers. But she didn’t open the manila envelope to find out. That could wait until tomorrow. She had a reunion to get ready for.