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Anticipating the new level of responsibility lifted her spirits and she walked across the foyer with a smile on her face.
Senior Event Manager.
Already she had plans. Her team was going to work hard because they wanted to, not because they were afraid of repercussions. And the first thing she was going to do was find a way to hire back poor Matilda.
“Good morning, Cynthia.”
“As far as I recall, your contract says nothing about working part-time.”
If anyone could kill the excitement of the moment, it was Cynthia.
“The Capital Insurance event didn’t finish until past midnight last night and the trains were packed this morning. We were—”
“Taking advantage.” Cynthia glanced pointedly at the clock on the wall even though she knew perfectly well what time it was. “I need to see you in my office right away. Let’s get this done.”
This was a meeting about her promotion and she wanted to “get this done”?
Her friends melted away, and Paige heard Eva softly humming the theme from Jaws.
It lifted her mood.
Working with her friends was one of the best things about this job.
As she followed Cynthia toward her office they passed Alice, one of the junior account managers.
Catching a glimpse of reddened eyes Paige stopped walking.
“Alice? Is everything—”
But Alice passed her quickly and Paige made a mental note to seek her out later and find out what was wrong.
Boyfriend problems?
Work issues?
She knew several of the staff had been horrified that Matilda had been fired after her unfortunate accident with a tray of champagne. It had created a general atmosphere of unease. Everyone was secretly wondering who would be next.
Following her boss into her office, Paige closed the door.
Soon she’d be in a position to make her own decisions about staffing. In the meantime, this was her moment. She’d worked hard for it and she was going to enjoy it.
Please let the pay raise be good.
Eva was right, they should celebrate later. A few glasses of something cold and sparkling. And then maybe dancing. They hadn’t been dancing in ages.
Cynthia reached for a file. “As you know we’ve been looking at ways to streamline Star Events and reduce costs. I don’t need to tell you that we’re operating in a challenging market.”
“I know, and I have some ideas I’d love to share with you.” Paige reached for her bag but Cynthia shook her head and held up her hand.
“We’re letting you go, Paige.”
“Go? Go where?” It hadn’t occurred to her that promotion might mean transferring to another office. And there was only one other office. Los Angeles. The other side of the country. This, she hadn’t expected. She loved New York City. She loved living and working with her friends. “I assumed I’d be staying here. Moving to Los Angeles is a big step.” Although if she wanted promotion she should probably be prepared to accept that it might involve relocation. Maybe she should ask for a little time to think about it. That was acceptable, wasn’t it?
Cynthia opened the file. “Why would you think we were relocating you to Los Angeles?”
“You said you were letting me go.”
“We’re letting you go from Star Events.”
Paige stared at her stupidly. “Excuse me?”
“We’re making cuts.” Cynthia leafed through the file and didn’t meet her eyes. “Putting it bluntly, business has fallen off a cliff. Everyone in the hospitality industry is laying off employees and reducing hours.”
Letting her go.
Not promoting her or moving her to Los Angeles.
Letting her go.
There was a buzzing in her ears. “But—I’ve brought in nine major new clients in the past six months. Almost all the new business growth has been down to me and—”
“We lost Adams Construction as a client.”
Shock flashed through her. “What?”
Chase Adams, the owner of the most successful construction company in Manhattan, had been one of their biggest clients. It was after an event for his company that Matilda had been fired.
Karma, Paige thought. First Cynthia had fired Matilda and now Chase Adams had fired them.
And she was a casualty.
“I wasn’t in a position to argue.” Cynthia continued. “That stupid girl Matilda ruined their event.”
“That’s why he fired us? Because of an accident?”
“Spilling one glass of champagne might be termed an accident, but dropping an entire tray is closer to a catastrophe. Adams insisted that I get rid of her. I tried to persuade him to rethink, but he wouldn’t. The man owns half of Manhattan. He’s one of the most powerful players in this city.”
“Then he didn’t need to crush poor Matilda.” Paige could think of a few choice words to describe Chase Adams, none of them flattering. She certainly didn’t blame Matilda.
“It’s history. Naturally we’ll give you excellent references for your next job.”
Next job?
She wanted this job. The job she loved. The job she’d earned.
Her mouth was so dry it was hard to speak. Her heart pounded, a brutal reminder of how fragile life was. This morning she’d felt as if she owned the world and now control had been wrenched from her hands.
Other people were deciding her future. Closed doors and conversations. People expecting her to wear a brave face.
And she was an expert at that. She did it without thinking whenever life got tough, like a computer going into sleep mode.
She knew how to bury her feelings and she buried them now.
Stay professional, Paige.
“You told me that if I met my performance objectives I would be promoted. I exceeded them.”
“The situation has changed and as a commercial operation we need to be fluid and react to the needs of the market.”
“How many people? Is that why Alice was crying? She’s been laid off? Who else?” Was it the same for Frankie and Eva?
Eva had no family to turn to and Paige knew Frankie would stop eating rather than ask her mother for a single cent.
“I’m not in a position to discuss other employees with you.”
Paige sat still, battered by emotion. She felt a dizzying loss of control.
She’d trusted her employers. They’d made big promises. She’d delivered time and time again, worked hideous hours and put her future in their hands. And this was what they did with that trust? They’d given her no warning. No hint.
“This company has grown because of me. I can show you numbers that prove it.”
“We’ve worked as a team.” Cynthia was cool. “You are good at your job. You have a tendency to be a little too friendly toward the people who work for you, and you should say no to the client more often—that episode when you had that man’s suit express dry-cleaned in the middle of a party was beyond ridiculous—but apart from that I have no complaints. This isn’t about your work.”
“I dry-cleaned his suit because he’d spilled his drink and he was trying to impress his boss. He gave us a huge piece of business after that. And I’m friendly because I like working in a happy team and a positive environment.”
Something Cynthia knew nothing about.
Looking at her boss was like looking at a locked door. Nothing she said was ever going to open it. She was wasting her time.
Instead of a promotion and a pay raise, she was out of a job.
She’d have to turn to her family for help. Once again she’d be causing her parents and her brother anxiety. And their instinct would be to protect her.
Paige felt her heart pound and instinctively lifted her palm to her chest. Through the fabric of her shirt she felt the solid shape of the little silver heart she sometimes wore hidden under her clothes.
For a moment she was back in the hospital bed, seventeen years old, surrounded by get-well cards and balloons, waiting for her operation and scared out of her mind. Her brain had been conjuring awful scenarios when the door had opened and a doctor had strolled into the room wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard.
She’d braced herself for more tests, more pain, more bad news, and then recognized Jake.
“They wouldn’t let me in because it’s not visiting hours, so I’m flexing the rules. Call me Dr. Romano.” He’d winked at her and closed the door. “Time for your medicine, Miss Walker. No squealing or I’ll remove your brain and donate it to medical science.”
He’d always made her laugh. His presence did other things to her, too. Things that made her wish she were wearing something slinky and sexy instead of an oversize T-shirt with a cartoon on the front. “Are you doing the operation?”
“I faint at the sight of blood and I don’t know a brain from a butt, so no, I’m not. Here. I bought you something.” He’d dug his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small box. “Better open it quickly, before I’m arrested.”
For a crazy moment she’d thought he was giving her an engagement ring and her heart, her misbehaving heart, had missed a beat.
“What is it?” Hands shaking, she’d opened the box and there, nestled on a bed of midnight-blue silk, was a beautiful silver heart on a delicate chain. “Oh, Jake—”
Engraved on the back were three words.
A strong heart.
“I thought yours could do with a little help. Wear it, honey, and think of it as reinforcements anytime your own is in trouble.”
Maybe it wasn’t a ring, but he’d called her honey and he’d given her a necklace.
That had to mean something, surely?
She’d stopped worrying about the operation and thought of nothing but Jake.
By the time they came to collect her to take her for her operation, she’d had a whole future mapped out with him. She’d named their children.
They’d had to drag the necklace from her clenched fist in the operating room, and the moment she was able she put it on again.
A strong heart.
She always wore it when she needed courage and she was wearing it today.
She stood up, her movements automatic. She had to start looking for jobs. She couldn’t waste a moment and she wouldn’t waste time fighting the inevitable.
“You should clear your desk today,” Cynthia said. “We’ll give you a severance package of course.”
Severance.
If promotion was her favorite word, sever was her least favorite. It sounded brutal. She felt as if she was having major surgery all over again, only this time they’d taken a scalpel to her hopes and dreams. So much for climbing the ladder. So much for her plans to eventually start her own business.
Walking out of Cynthia’s office, she closed the door between them.
Reality seeped in. If she’d known what was going to happen, she wouldn’t have bought that coffee on the way in to work. She wouldn’t have treated herself to another lipstick when she already had plenty. She stood, frozen, regretting every cent she’d spent over the past few years. In the darkest part of her life she’d promised herself that she’d live every moment, but she hadn’t anticipated this.
She walked down an empty corridor into the nearest restroom, the only sound the echo of her heels.
Less than an hour ago she’d been excited about the future. Optimistic.
Now she was unemployed.
Unemployed.
Alone in the soulless room, finally she let the mask slip.
In his glass-fronted office in Downtown Manhattan, Jake Romano sat with his feet on his desk only half listening to the man at the other end of the phone.
Across from him a young, blonde reporter fidgeted and tried to check the time without him noticing. Jake rarely gave interviews but somehow this woman had managed to maneuver her way past his assistant. Because he had a certain admiration for tenacity and creativity, he hadn’t thrown her out.
It was an impulse he was regretting. He was willing to bet she was, too. So far they’d been interrupted three times and each time she grew a little more frustrated.
Given that her questions so far had bordered on the intrusive, he decided to make her wait a little longer and focused on the call. “You don’t need a content strategist for a lightweight application redesign. What you need is a smart copywriter.”
