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“No. I’m simply acting on what my instincts have told me for years. It’s time for me to explore new options and accept new challenges, before I stagnate completely.”
His humoring expression grew strained. “Then help Malloy Marketing climb out of debt. That’s a hell of a new challenge. I promise you won’t be bored.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not in my job description even if I still worked here.”
“Je-e-ez,” he said on a groan, looking away.
Presented with a view of his heartbreaker profile, Elizabeth quickly followed his gaze to the large oil painting he’d purchased for her office. A garden landscape. Peaceful and lovely. So skillfully rendered one could almost smell the lush summer blooms, hear busy insects hum, feel the heat radiate from a wrought iron table and two fan-back chairs in the midday sun. The bucolic scene usually calmed her nerves. Today, it only frayed them more.
Cameron never should’ve bought the painting, good cause be damned!
Last month he’d passed a UT art student beside Town Lake peddling canvases and a hard-luck story, then wound up funding the kid’s books and tuition for the next semester. Thoughtless generosity. Charity should begin at home. Most of his thirty-six loyal employees had families to support, and losing their jobs would be devastating.
“Lizzy?”
She met his gaze and steeled herself when it softened persuasively.
“The last thing I wanted to do was hurt your feelings. I don’t know what else to say, except that, deep down in your heart, you know I’ve always understood and appreciated how important you are to Malloy Marketing.”
“And how would I know that, Cameron? I’m not telepathic.”
“Telepathic?”
“During the ten years I’ve worked for you, did you ever once tell me I was vital to the agency’s success?”
He stiffened. “Of course I did.”
She could see he believed his claim. Somehow that made her feel worse.
“Besides,” he continued in a wounded tone, “I would think your compensation package speaks for itself.”
God, she’d been such a fool. “I rest my case.”
“Case?”
“That’s right, case. As in, evidence submitted and reviewed.”
“Pardon me if I didn’t realize I was on trial.”
“Actually, the trial is over. I’ve already reached a verdict.” She switched off her computer and leaned back in her chair. “Guilty.”
“Guilty?”
“You heard me.”
His face might’ve been carved from granite, but for the telltale tic of a muscle in one cheek. “Mind if I ask of what charge?”
“False advertising.”
“What?”
The old Elizabeth would’ve scrambled to defuse his rising temper. “You really should get your hearing checked,” the new Elizabeth said.
“Try speaking in English instead of riddles this time.”
“Okay. You aren’t the man you pretend to be. In other words, Cameron, you’re a fraud.”
He turned chalky beneath his tan. A dramatic response to her theatrical pronouncement, but not the one she’d expected. Was that fear clouding his eyes?
She studied him closer.
Good grief, it was fear! Shockingly vulnerable. Desperately defiant. Why on earth did Cameron feel so threatened? Elizabeth wondered, shaken at her lack of knowledge. She’d never seen the wolf backed into a corner before.
His upper lip curled in a near snarl. “You want to translate that into plain English this time?”
She struggled to collect her thoughts. “You’ve purposely deceived me since college, when you talked me into ‘joining’ the start-up of a new business on the ground floor level. When it suits your purpose, you’re big on the concept of teamwork, and delegating responsibility to the employee trained for the task, and rewarding staff through stock options as well as promotions. The sad thing is, I fell for the whole spiel. I even believed I could one day own a piece of the company, like you implied.
“But that won’t ever happen, will it, Cameron? Because in the real world, you can’t tolerate sitting back and giving me, or any other staff member, autonomy to make decisions that might affect the future of Malloy Marketing. My title of vice president is mere window dressing.”
His relief was obvious, dismissive and insulting. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the best analytical marketing mind in the business.”
“Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity, since you won’t let me analyze this company’s financial data.”
“So analyze it! Hell, review the accounting reports until you go cross-eyed, if that’ll make you stop this nonsense about resigning.”
Unbelievable. “It won’t. I’ve made my decision. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”
He eyed her warily for a long, tense moment. “But…you can’t quit.”
“Watch me.”
A thunderous scowl rolled onto his face and gathered force. “Who will finish the SkyHawk marketing plan?”
And there, at long last, was her true net worth to Cameron. “Farm it out,” she said in a dull tone.
“With the final selection meeting four weeks away? Jeez, it would take that long just to get someone else up to speed on the research! You know Ad Ventures will pull out all the stops during their presentation.”
“Just like I know you will, Cameron. And the selection committee will be dazzled.” Unlike some agencies, Malloy Marketing only sent one person to represent the account team in final presentations. Cameron needed no backup. Men responded to his charisma as much as women. It really was true that all the world loved a winner.
“Lizzy, if Malloy Marketing goes in with a half-ass analysis of the airline travel market, we can kiss that account goodbye.”
“What’s this we business? My name’s not on the letterhead, remember?”
“Would you forget what I said, goddamn it, and listen to what I’m saying!”
“You’re the one going deaf, not me. Read…my…lips. You have two weeks to hire my replacement. Unless, of course, you prefer that I leave immediately.”
Feigning indifference, she busied herself with straightening the towering contents of her in box.
“Lizzy, think. It might take you as long as a year to land a comparable position. Are you honestly prepared to give up a VP title, top salary and cush working conditions on the basis of one stupid fight?”
She thought of the headhunters eager for her call. “Yes.”
“Then I hope you’ve got cable TV. That’s a lot of time on your hands to spend alone.”
Her fussy movements stilled. “What makes you think I’ll be alone?”
“No offense, but your social life isn’t exactly active. By choice, I’m sure,” he added hastily and much too late. His expression gentled. “I’d worry about you, honey. I only want what’s best for you. Won’t you please forgive me and stay where you belong?”
Ten years she’d waited for him to call her “honey,” to see his eyes warm with tenderness, to hear his voice soften to a bedroom croon. But not out of pity. Oh, God, she couldn’t bear his pity.
Deep in that place where insecurity and pride waged war in a woman’s soul, the latter raised a mighty sword and sounded a Valkyrie battle cry.
Responding, Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I do forgive you. But you were absolutely right. I have been hiding in my nice safe world—” she lifted a forestalling palm “—no, don’t apologize again. And please don’t worry about me when I leave Malloy Marketing. There’s no need. I won’t be alone with my cable channels. Along with finding a new job, I’ll be starting a second career. The most exciting and challenging career any woman with no previous experience can have.”
“And in plain English that would mean…?”
That I’m through settling for what I can get. That I’m going after what I want. That from this moment on, you’re going to see Elizabeth, the woman—not Lizzy, the girl Friday.
“It means that I’m getting married, Cameron. If you really want what’s best for me, you’ll wish me well.”
AT HER POST behind the lobby reception counter, Rachel Rosenfeld punched the last blinking light on the telephone console. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Richmond, but Elizabeth is still unavailable. Would you like me to interrupt her meeting?”
A long-suffering sigh whuffled in Rachel’s ear.
“No. Just tell her I called again, and that it’s important. You won’t forget, now, will you?” Her tone implied that her messages in the past had never been relayed.
Rachel suppressed a peeved sigh of her own. “No, Mrs. Richmond, I won’t forget. But if you’re worried that I will, she checks her voice mail regularly if you’d like to leave a personal message.” Hint, hint.
“Well…” For an amazing few seconds, Elizabeth’s mother seemed to consider dipping a toe into the current century. “No, I hate using that thing. The beep always cuts me off before I’m halfway finished. It’s so rude.”
Rachel mentally counted to five, a trick she’d found useful when dealing with her twelve-year-old son, Ben. “I’ll see that Elizabeth gets your message the moment she’s free.”
“Thank you. I need to talk to her as soon as possible. Tell her I’ll be waiting for her call.”
Oy! “Yes, I’ll tell her. Goodbye, Mrs. Richmond.” Rachel hung up before the woman could kvetch some more.
Poor Elizabeth. All she needed now was for her father to call, though he usually waited until after lunch. As the divorce settlement battle between Muriel and Jerry Richmond intensified, they sought Elizabeth’s counsel more and more often. The nud-nicks had been draining their daughter’s reserves of strength and patience for weeks. She must have finally run dry about ten minutes ago.
That’s when, according to Tim’s panicked news flash, she’d quit her job. Loudly. As in “She yelled like a fishwife.” Elizabeth. Then she’d stormed past his office, followed minutes later by Cameron, looking meek and worried. Susan and Pete had reported the same Twilight Zone sight.
Talk about role reversal. No wonder they’d freaked!
Elizabeth was not only the driving force behind new business acquisition, the lifeblood of the agency, but also a calm buffer between the boss’s notorious temper and every tochus in the place. Beyond that, she was genuinely loved by everyone, and interested in their personal lives and aspirations…though she shared very little of her own.
Rachel supposed since she’d worked here the longest—seven years and counting—she understood being asked to interpret the high drama. It was no secret she and Elizabeth had become close friends. Rachel’s co-workers had wanted reassurance that all would return to normal. Still, she wasn’t a mind reader.
A schlemiel, yes.
A psychic, no. She couldn’t even predict what her husband of fifteen years would do. So why had she told the trio not to worry, that Cameron would smooth things out? What if her instincts were wrong?
Frowning, she recalled Elizabeth whizzing through the lobby earlier with flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. Eyes that had studiously avoided Rachel’s. Eyes that could’ve been bright with unshed tears as well as fury.
Maybe Elizabeth had truly and finally had it with the brilliant mercurial Cameron Malloy. Maybe the way she looked at him when she thought no one watched—the same way Rabbi Levitz looked at the Torah on Shabbat—didn’t mean she secretly loved him. Maybe his gentler temper around her, his use of the pet name “Lizzy” when he thought other employees couldn’t hear, wasn’t a subconscious response to feelings he wouldn’t admit.
And maybe you shouldn’t kibitz in their relationship when your own marriage is no rose garden, Rachel Rosenfeld.
The beloved voice had delivered countless tender scoldings and unsolicited advice throughout Rachel’s life. Her heart squeezed.
“Mama?” she whispered.
A jangle from her telephone answered. Blushing, she glanced quickly at both hallway entrances to the lobby before picking up on the third ring. She connected a freelance photographer to the art department, dealt with a subsequent incoming call, then sank back in her chair, still embarrassed by her earlier delusion. Mama had died of a stroke three years ago.
Funny, Rachel mused, how her mother’s “meddling” used to make her crazy. Now she’d give anything to soak up all that love and wisdom. She was a schlemiel, all right. Only a fool would fail to treasure loved ones until after they were gone.
She ripped off her glasses, gathered a pinch of the broomstick silk draping her thigh and briskly rubbed the lenses. If only she hadn’t focused all her energy and attention on Ben’s schoolwork, his baseball and swimming, his upcoming Bar Mitzvah celebration—his needs and wants. They’d left her little time for Steven. And in her diligence to be a good mother, she’d neglected to be a good wife. So easy to see in retrospect.
But three months ago, when Steven had moved abruptly out of the house, needing “time and space to think,” she’d been as shocked as their sweet little boy.
She’d told no one of their separation. Not even Elizabeth.
Rachel’s vigorous rubbing slowed. And now her sweet little boy bristled with hostility. He wasn’t so little anymore, either. The last time he’d let her hug him, right after his father moved out, she’d been able to prop her chin on the crown of his shorn black hair. This morning, she’d rushed out of the kitchen as he rushed in, and they’d collided nose-to-nose.
She blinked rapidly and shoved on her glasses. Enough self-pity!
Rising, she put the phones on forward, then grabbed a bulging folder from her desktop. The agency vendor invoices wouldn’t file themselves.
The instant she entered the left hallway, her gaze jumped ahead to Elizabeth’s office. Pete and Mitch stood eavesdropping shamelessly outside her closed door. At Rachel’s sudden appearance, the men snapped to military attention, saw who she was, then resumed their straining cocked-ear poses.
Squelching a powerful desire to join them, she ducked into a large room filled with file cabinets, office supplies and two photocopy machines. What were her co-workers hearing? she wondered. Probably he was talking himself back into Elizabeth’s favor. Cameron could charm the coat off a freezing person.
But he was more likely to offer that person the coat off his own back.
Four years ago Steven, a victim of downsizing, had lost his job and insurance coverage for the whole family. Soon afterward Cameron had walked in on Rachel crying because she’d forgotten to reorder nondairy creamer for the coffee room.
Next thing she knew, he’d added not only her, but also Steven and Ben to Malloy Marketing’s group insurance policy. It had taken Steven nine demoralizing months to land a comparable management position in the oil industry, and two more for his new insurance coverage to kick in. In the meantime, his emergency appendectomy and Ben’s bout with influenza drained Rachel’s emotions, but not her family’s savings account.
There was much more to Cameron than charisma and a face to die for. He was a mensch. A good man. Though sometimes, like today, he was as big a schlemiel as she’d ever been.
Rachel moved to a long worktable against one wall and laid her folder next to the humming network laser printer. The output tray was full. A paper jam waiting to happen. She snatched up the offending sheets and began slipping each one into wall folders bearing the appropriate employee’s name.
Halfway through the stack, she scanned the top page and froze.
So much for her instincts. So much for Cameron’s legendary charisma and powers of persuasion. So much for a buffer between his temper and everyone’s tochus.
Oy!
CHAPTER THREE
