“Oh, I’m bitter about men too. Don’t you worry.”
“Are you sure a spa retreat is going to be enough? Something more drastic sounds in order, like doing an Eat, Pray, Love type tour? Or go to Italy and become like Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun. Sell the condo and get a fixer-upper farmhouse!” She slams her hand down on the table as if this is her best idea ever.
I laugh and shake my head. “I don’t even own a hammer. I had to call my building’s engineer to hang a mirror in my place.” Also, both those stories lead to a new leading man and romance is the last thing on my mind. And unfortunately, the glaring difference between me and Elizabeth Gilbert is that she rejected her old life, whereas my life rejected me.
“Okay, okay. Sorry, I guess I’m just fantasizing for myself. I’d like to go to Italy and eat a lot of pasta and buy new jeans.” She looks wistfully into the sky, away from our little bistro table in the Loop.
“And you totally deserve to do that. But, in the meantime, you can also just stuff yourself with pasta at Eataly and then buy some new jeans at Bloomingdale’s. Earth to Jordan?” I tap my fork against my plate to disturb her reverie and get back to my practical dilemmas. “So now I know what the rumor is, but what do I do about it?”
Jordan thinks for a moment. “First things first, I would confront Kate.”
“I already tried with getting my portfolio samples and she was unresponsive. And, anyway, then what? My job is already gone. My reputation trashed.”
“That’s not true. Anyone who really knows you will know it was a case of office politics. So work those contacts, go to another firm, and lure back your clients.”
“Yeah,” I respond numbly. Jordan makes it sound so easy, but if it were so easy, I can’t help but think the recruiters would’ve found me a job already. “But maybe I’ll wait until after this trip to get some mental clarity before making any sudden moves.”
“Speaking of moves, I better move it back to work. My phone’s been vibrating on and off the last hour and has become frantic these last ten minutes.”
I walk Jordan back to her office so we can chat a little longer, and then I decide to walk the mile home.
Jordan is on Team Allison, so I understand that she wasn’t going to give Kate the benefit of the doubt, and I’m trying harder not to make excuses for people these days. While what Kate did was inexcusable, and I can only hope karma will bite her in the long run, I still wonder if I let her down somehow. But when and how? Perhaps karma is biting me in the ass. People don’t just turn on others without a reason—well, unless they are pure evil like Stacey. I’m trying to be mature by examining my part in all of this so that it never happens again; but, honestly, I feel like a victim (something the books advise against). The people closest to me betrayed me. I’m clearly doing something wrong or missing something.
ON MY WALK home, I pass The Cauldron and spot Eric inside. He sees me and waves. I wave back and, since it’s not like I have to hurry anywhere, decide to pop in.
“Hey, Allison. What are you up to this sunny afternoon?”
“I met a friend for lunch and am just walking home. How are you today?”
“Good, good. Can I get you anything?”
I hesitate. That’s right, I’m a customer so I should probably order. “How about an iced green tea?”
“You got it.” Since it’s not that busy, Eric pours it himself. “Here you go.”
I start to pull my wallet out of my purse, but he shakes his head. “Nah. It’s on the house.”
I shake my head back at him, scolding gently, “You should really rethink your free drink policy. You haven’t been open that long.”
He gives me a smirk. “It’s okay. This is all part of a long-term strategy. Besides, you can repay me by being my taste tester.”
“Any new recipes?”
“Now that you mention it … wait right here.” He disappears into the back and returns with what looks like the darkest, gooiest, most delicious-looking brownie I’ve ever seen.
“Whoa! What’s that? It looks decadent.”
“I’d prefer that you taste it first and let me know what you think it is.” He carries the plate with a fork over to a table, sets them down, and then pulls out the chair for me.
I’m still full from lunch, and I wasn’t even planning on stopping for a coffee. Probably sensing my hesitation, Eric lets go of the chair and straightens up. “Oh, sorry. Am I being presumptuous? I didn’t mean to interrupt your day if you have to be somewhere.”
“Nope.” I give a little laugh. “I have nowhere to be except here eating whatever that delicious-looking treat is.” Also, I could use a break from going over my problems.
I sit down, and he gently pushes my chair in and then takes the opposite seat. He props his chin on his hand and focuses intently on my face before I’ve even taken a bite.
I laugh. “You’re going to stress me out staring like that.”
He laughs back. “Ha-ha. Got it. No pressure. I just want to get your initial impression.”
“Okay.” I cautiously try a forkful. Oh my god! Whatever it is, it’s heavenly, and it must show on my face.
“That good?” he asks.
“Mmm-hmm.” I nod as I finish chewing and then point my fork to the dessert. “It’s that good. It’s like a flourless chocolate cake, but even better!”
“It’s a raw chocolate bar.” He puts the chocolate in quote marks with his fingers. I can forgive him this because his dessert is so divine. “It has cocoa and cacao.”
“Is that the name? Raw chocolate bar?”
“I guess it will be raw, vegan, gluten-free chocolate bar.”
“Hmm … That doesn’t quite sound as delicious as this tastes. What about Heavenly Chocolate Dessert Bar? Or Divine? Or something with the word sinful, but that also implies it’s good for you?” My mind starts whirring.
“I like that.” He drums his fingers on the table and then leans forward toward me. “You’re in marketing, right?”
I nod. “I’m in PR. Potayto, potahto. They’re both a lot of branding work and stuff. I guess I can’t turn it off.”
“I appreciate the free advice. Where do you work?”
So much for forgetting my troubles. “Actually, I’m in between things right now.”
“You’re a consultant?”
“No. Between jobs, actually.” Ugh, I’m not sure how I want to spin this. “I left my old job. I was at a big firm.”
“Why did you leave?”
It’s just the two of us in here, so I swallow my pride and drop the whole fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude. “Truth be told, I was let go. They told me that they were consolidating the work, and I guess I was too high up.”
“Ouch. That sucks. I’m sorry.” He does look truly sorry, and I appreciate the sympathy.
“Thanks. It does suck. I’d been there twelve years.”
“So now what?” He looks at me earnestly, his eyes on mine. But after sharing my embarrassing news that I was fired, I’m unable to hold his gaze. I look down at my plate and fiddle with my fork.