Too bad he hadn’t led with that, because it was too late now. “I’m sorry, Mark. I need this time. It’s possible you do, too. If I can’t fulfill you, maybe Francine can.”
“Damn it! Will you stop throwing your best friend at me?”
“I didn’t throw her at you! And she’s not my best friend. She’ll never be my friend again. You cost me that.”
He seemed to be at a loss for words. But then he said, “I’m sorry. Please, Lorelei. Will you...will you just come home?”
“I’ll be back in September. In the meantime, I’m giving you permission to see whoever you want.”
Silence. This time, she didn’t sense anger, as she had when she’d been talking to him outside yesterday; she sensed panic. “Are you saying that because you want to see other people? This Finn guy?”
“No,” she said. But only because she couldn’t imagine she’d ever really have a chance with Finn.
A guy like Finn could have anybody.
* * *
reagan
There it was—her response from Gary at Edison & Curry.
Reagan could hear her sisters downstairs in the kitchen with Lucy, but she hadn’t joined them. She first had to deal with whatever she was about to find in this email.
She took a quick shower, to put off reading Gary’s response a little longer. But with only ten minutes to spare before she had to be downstairs to adhere to the new schedule she’d given Serenity, she finally perched on the edge of the chair near the bookcase, pulled her computer onto her lap and clicked Open.
Dear Reagan:
I’m sorry to hear that you’re moving on. I feel as though the many opportunities we provided for the advancement of your career should have been rewarded with more loyalty than having you suddenly call in sick for several days and then quit without so much as a conversation between us.
But since you’ve already made up your mind, I’ll wish you well and will remind you of the non-compete clause you signed when you started working here, in which you expressly agreed “not to enter into or start a similar trade or profession in competition with Edison & Curry.”
Just so you know, I plan to rigorously enforce that agreement, so best of luck getting started in a new industry.
Sincerely, Gary Rincon
Feeling like a balloon someone had poked with a pin, Reagan slumped over, completely deflated. So there it was. The culmination of years of hard work and dedication, dogged focus and creative energy. Nights. Weekends. Lunches. The sacrifice of almost all her personal time. She’d received no “thank you.” No “please reconsider.” Just “You’d better not do anything to threaten my business or I’ll come after you.”
“Wow.” Stunned in spite of having seen others leave the firm with a similarly cold send-off, she felt slightly nauseous. Although she’d been aware of the non-compete clause, she’d signed it ten years ago, when she was fresh out of college and so happy to land a good job. She hadn’t thought much about it since. Because she didn’t plan on starting her own advertising firm, she certainly hadn’t expected it to be much of a stumbling block.
But now that Gary had quoted the actual language, she wondered if simply going to work for another advertising agency would be considered an infringement.
If so, what was she going to do?
“You think you did so much for me,” she murmured. “What about everything I did for you? Not just anyone could’ve come up with the campaigns I created. I brought in—and managed—a lot of business.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, she checked her phone to see if Drew had tried to reach her this morning. Since it was three hours later in New York, it was almost lunchtime—late enough for him to be in the office and to have heard about her resignation.
She’d received nothing from him, though, not so much as a text in the past twenty-four hours.
Was she compounding the mistake she’d made with Drew by quitting her job? With that non-compete clause, there was a chance she wouldn’t able to stay in the industry.
Maybe Gary was bluffing, trying to punish her for displeasing him. He didn’t take disappointment well, which was partly why she felt she deserved a thank you, at the very least. Not just anyone could put up with the pressure he exerted, let alone excel in spite of it.
Putting her phone and computer aside, she went to the railing, where her sisters’ and Lucy’s voices floated up to her, to see if she could tell whether they were finished with breakfast.
Lorelei: “Want some toast?”
Serenity: “Sure. I haven’t had dip eggs in forever.”
Lorelei: “Or, if you can wait an hour, I’ll make a goat cheese, spinach and sun-dried tomato quiche.”
Serenity: “Do we have all the ingredients?”
Lorelei: “I saw some spinach in the fridge, which is what gave me the idea. But I may have to drive over to the store to get a couple of other things. I’ll do that while you’re writing, and we can have the quiche tomorrow morning. And maybe I’ll make a pesto pasta for lunch.”
Serenity: “You like to cook, huh?”
Lorelei: “I love it.”
Serenity: “Hopefully, that’ll rub off on me.”
Lucy: “What’s quiche, Mommy?”
Lorelei: “It’s like an egg pie.”
Lucy: “Pie is yummy.”
After deliberating for a couple of minutes, Reagan went back into her bedroom, quietly shut the door and called Drew.
Too nervous to sit down, she paced at the end of the bed while the phone rang.
“Hello?”
Her heart began to race at the sound of his voice. She missed him so much, missed her former life, too. Now that she knew she wasn’t going back to Edison & Curry, she felt as though she’d lost her anchor and was drifting, rudderless, out into the squalls of the open sea.
“Drew?” She hated feeling so shaky and uncertain. She wasn’t used to being in such a weak position. Generally forthright and decisive, she knew her own mind—when dealing with everyone except her mother.
“There you are!” he said.
“Can you talk?”
“For a few minutes. God, I’m glad you finally called. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I...I needed some time to myself to do some soul-searching.”
“About...”
About you. About what they’d done. About how she could be a good person and still make such a terrible mistake.