“You know that without even having to ask. Are you okay, Mr. Wilde?”
“I’m fine.”
Whether it’s because she believes me or because she’s afraid to push any harder, I’m not sure, but she drops it. “You hungry? I got the food,” she calls over her shoulder as she moves back down the hall.
“Yeah, I’m coming.” I join her in the kitchen and take the plate she hands me.
“Add this to the list of things I’m going to miss in Paris,” she says around a mouthful of fried chicken when I join her in the bedroom to pack things up.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What are you going miss about Houston?”
Dina. Her name comes, unbidden and unwelcome. I banish it. “Not a damn thing.”
4
Dream Come True
Dina
One Year Later
I stand in front of the wide oak doors that lead to the inner sanctum of Tina Wilde’s private office. Trepidation stills the hand I raise to knock on it in mid-air. Her email summoning me here this morning was terse and urgent. I’m prepared for the worst—termination for insubordination—as my boss threatened in his email last week.
I stuck my neck out knowing this could happen, but I didn’t actually think it would. I should have kept my mouth shut. But I can’t seem to learn that lesson.
I scrutinize the corners of the doorway to her office. My trained eyes don’t see the telltale signs of the surveillance cameras she had installed there a few days ago, but I know they’re there. Even though that recommendation is the domino that started the chain of events that led me to this moment, I can’t help but smile.
“When you’re done preening, please come in,” the head honcho herself calls, the impatience in her voice loud and clear through the door as I push it open and stride into her large window-lined corner office.
The apology on the tip of my tongue is stilled by the heart-stopping view. London spreads out before me like a living postcard. The mighty River Thames winds through the city as far as my eye can see. Spanned by the medieval London Bridge on one end, its banks are dotted, in equal measure, with centuries old structures and modern buildings made of glass and steel. They’re a testament to the city’s commitment to its history and its willingness to adapt in order to maintain its global dominance as one of the world’s leading financial and cultural centers. I wish I had time to explore.
“Hello Dina, nice to see you, too.”
At her sardonic comment, I wince and turn to face her. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Wilde. Hello. It’s very nice to see you.” I hope the surprise I feel at her appearance doesn’t show on my face and relax when she smiles. “It’s okay. It’s an incredible view, and you’re allowed an awestruck moment.” She gestures at the small sitting area in front of the windows. “Have a seat, we’ll have our meeting there. I just need to finish sending this email and I’ll be right with you.”
I nod and sit. I can’t help nestling against the soft buttery leather of the huge, tufted armchair. But only for a second. I don’t relax and enjoy the view.
Instead, I study the woman who built the food service and retail empire that employs a quarter of a million people around the globe and marvel that I’m sitting in her office.
“Okay, all done,” she announces and presses a button on her desk. “Emily, please order a pot of tea for my meeting. Herbal tea, please.”
“Yes, ma’am” comes the response of her brisk, efficient assistant who must have the hardest job of anyone in this company but makes it look like a piece of cake.
She sits back in her chair and chuckles to herself. “The first time I ordered herbal tea, she was horrified.” She laughs again. “I tried to do as the Romans and all that, but the caffeine is hell on my skin and makes my heart race even faster than it already does. Are you ready?”
She rises from her high-backed, throne-like chair and makes her way across the room to join me by the window. Her walk is looser. She used to move like an army general in long, ground-eating strides. Now she struts, her hips loose and swaying just a little.
The perfectly contoured foundation and matte berry-colored lipstick she normally wears have been replaced with softer highlights and nude lip gloss. I suspect the man she moved here to be with, an actor named Max Priest, is responsible for the loosening and lightening that’s taken place since she moved here.
Not that I would dare mention it. She’s nice to me when she sees me socially, but I wouldn’t presume anything more than a professional relationship with her.
There’s a light tap on her door before it opens and her assistant walks in, pushing a silver service cart topped with some pretty light blue and gold china and a lot more than tea—sandwiches, cookies, and fresh fruit are piled on a three-tiered stand.
“Thank you, Emily.”
“Ma’am,” Emily says by way of reply and then she leaves the room.
“Keep talking, I’ll pour and serve.”
“Okay…” I say and try to hide my astonishment at the sight of Tina Wilde serving me.
She places a cup onto a saucer and glances up at me. “Sugar or milk?”
“In my tea?” I ask quizzically.
“They drink it like we drink coffee. I really like it. How do you take your coffee?”
“Dark and sweet, please.”
She pours some of the dark steaming liquid into the mug and then uses a small pair of silver tongs to drop a square cube of sugar into the cup and hands it to me.
“Thank you.” I take it from her and lift it to my nose.
“I called you here to discuss your future at Wilde World.”
My throat closes, and my heart starts to pound, and I set the cup down so I can clasp my trembling hands in my lap.
“I know the email was insubordinate and impulsive. I’m sorry I spoke so crassly.”
She cocks her head to the side and purses her lips. “Are you saying that because Derrick has asked HR to put you on a performance plan?”
My stomach feels like a thousand goldfish are swimming in it. A PP, as they’re known by, is just a CYA for the process of firing an employee.
“No. I’m not sorry I sent it. I’m sorry I copied Erin and sorry I used that kind of language.”
She smiles faintly and nods but doesn’t say anything as she looks at me. “I’m sorry to hear that. I like how remarkably unapologetic you were. Especially the line about Derrick being mediocre and the rest of us suffering for it. And not wanting to work for an organization where merit didn’t matter and honesty was optional.”
I squirm under her scrutiny and at how harsh my words sound repeated back to me. “I was angry. I know that one person doesn’t represent the ethos of the entire company. And I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my career here.”
“I hope not because you’re smart, you’re efficient, and you’re a very good leader. Your team in Houston respects and likes you—and that is a rare thing. I want to see you thrive. I’d hate to see you get in your own way by being impulsive and letting your emotions rule you.”
Chastised, I nod. “It won’t happen again. I apologized to Derrick yesterday and will apologize to Erin when I leave your office.”