MONDAY MORNING, TWELVE DAYS LATER, Allison came downstairs and looked in the mirror. Dark straight-legged jeans, black ankle boots, her mom’s oversize gray cashmere sweater, and a long necklace with a Tree of Life emblem—which Parker had bought for her twenty-fifth birthday. She adjusted the sweater slightly and gave a quick nod. Perfect.
She went into the kitchen to say goodbye and found her mom staring at her plate, hands in her lap.
“Mom, you okay?”
“Fine.”
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Mom. Right? Tell me, please.”
“Worried. I didn’t sleep well last night. I think I told you that yesterday morning. And the morning before that.”
“You did, but you can tell me again and again.” Allison sighed. “Are you going to finish my world-famous mushroom-and-spinach omelet?”
“Sure.”
She’d taken only two bites and hadn’t touched her toast.
“You have to eat, Mom. I know your stomach is busy getting itself tied in knots, but you have to, okay? For both of us.”
“Okay.”
“We’re going to get you through this. I promise.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ally.”
Allison tried to laugh. It came off weak. “Then it’s a good thing you decided to have me thirty-four years ago.”
“Have you and Derrek finished your partnership agreement yet?”
“Soon. We’re going to get it done soon.”
“Good. And once you do, and once we get things paid off, I’m going to pay you back. You know that, right, Ally?”
“Yes, Mom, I know.” She backed away. “I gotta go, Mom. Don’t want to be late.”
Five minutes later Allison inched down the on-ramp that fed I-90 and would take her to Wright Architecture. Day nine of her new adventure. For the most part it had been good. The fourteen staff members seemed friendly. The only person she didn’t click with was Linda, Derrek’s longtime executive assistant, but one out of fourteen wasn’t bad.
She glanced at her watch—eight twenty already—then at the cars in front of her. Puget Sound gridlock. One of the downsides of partnering with Derrek: her commute time had tripled. And with an accident like the one showing up on her GPS? Forty minutes to travel sixteen miles. Two more cars ahead of her waited for the metered ramp stoplight to flash from red to green.
A few seconds later her phone buzzed. A text from Linda.
Where are you, Allison? What are you doing? Derrek would like to meet with you. I’m quite surprised you’re not at the office already, or at least let us know where you are and what has caused your delay. Our workday starts at 8:00 a.m.
Eight? Good to know. As if she hadn’t been able to figure out what time the office officially opened. Where was she? The same place she’d been every morning that week. Getting her mom ready for a day without assistance. Making sure she had her medication and a charged cell phone. Wrapping up niggling details with Kayla so she wouldn’t have to do it at her new office.
What was she doing? Feeling guilty when there was no reason to feel guilty. Trying to figure out how to respond to a scolding from a woman who unofficially was Allison’s employee but acted like she owned the company.
Eight fifty came and went before Allison pulled into her spot in the parking garage in the heart of downtown Bellevue. She got out and jogged across the gray concrete, lugging her light tan briefcase, which felt heavier now than it should, and passing pricey late-model cars. The kind Derrek had promised her but hadn’t mentioned since their meeting at The Vogue. She didn’t really care. Would it be nice? Sure. But the rest of the agreement was what mattered. Today she would get him to finalize it. She had to.
She slipped into the elevator just as the doors slid closed and faked a smile for the two ladies and a man who hadn’t tried to catch the door for her. She forced herself to settle into long breaths in and out before the elevator reached the twenty-third floor. Get out, get into the office, get your game face on.