A sliver of worry flashes in Lynn’s eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.”
A wave of soft groans echoes through the room. A few people mutter about crossing their names off the list.
Lynn’s formerly cheery face morphs into a frown. “I’d expect more from a group of professionals.”
Awkward silence cuts the room, save for my stifled laugh of disbelief. I’ve never seen Lynn turn from joyful to disappointed so quickly, and it’s strangely amusing. I didn’t think she had it in her to be so curt. Both Kelsey and Tate turn to look at me with incredulous expressions. Laughing during awkward moments is a bad habit that’s taken years for me to harness.
Lynn purses her lips. “Everyone in this room possesses skills that could improve the life of a family in need, and you’re worried about feeling hot for a few hours a day? I’m disappointed in you folks.”
When she tuts, heads droop in shame. A few muttered sorries follow.
She crosses her arms while scanning the room. Her stance reminds me of a mother scolding her misbehaving teen in an after-school special.
“I’m certainly not going to force any of you to volunteer, but let’s try to keep in mind that the heat wave will be temporary. I’ll be there sweating it out with all of you every day, and so will the rest of management. A few days of discomfort will result in a better life for a deserving family.” Lynn’s arms fall back to her sides. “Also, food and drink will be provided at the worksite for all volunteers.”
Half the room lights up. Nothing like free food to draw people to a noble cause.
Lynn ends the meeting with some words of encouragement. “Be sure to check your email inboxes tomorrow; there’s more info on our first day of volunteering to come! And please feel free to come to me with any ideas you folks have. We want to make this project the best it can be!” She points a finger in the air. “Oh, and don’t forget, Kelsey is leaving us in a couple of weeks! She’s moving to Florida for her husband’s new job.”
Lynn makes an exaggerated sad face, using her fists to wring fake tears. Kelsey laughs and claps.
“We’re having a going-away happy hour for her at Jimi D’s next Friday,” Lynn says. “Drinks are on Nuts & Bolts till seven. Everyone’s invited!”
The room empties, but Tate remains seated. “I have an idea I’d like to run by you, Lynn.”
I stand up to leave but halt at the sound of my name.
“It involves Emmie and me, actually.”
I peer down at him. “What?”
He gestures to my chair, beckoning me to sit down. Like I’m a toy poodle he’s training.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Lynn shuts the door and joins us. I let out a sharp exhale and sit.
Tate clears his throat. “What if Emmie and I spearhead a marketing and social media campaign centered on promoting the charity homebuilding project?”
“Um, what?” I’m unable to hide my shock. Tate wants to work with me on a special project? What in the ever-loving hell?
Lynn claps her hands in merriment before Tate dives into a laundry list of ideas. There’s mention of posting in-progress photos of the house to Nuts & Bolts’ social media pages, sending press releases to local media, and a community service hashtag.
“It could take Nuts & Bolts’ online presence to the next level while promoting the company within the community. All for a good cause,” he says.
He reiterates that he will be in charge of social media, while I will be in charge of writing media releases and pitches. I dry swallow another “um, what?” All that registers in my brain is extra work on top of my day-to-day copywriting duties.
Lynn beams at us, her smile bright enough to power an entire city during a blackout. “Well, I’m certainly impressed at the initiative the two of you are showing. Seeing you come together like this for a good cause is so inspiring. I can’t wait to hear what other ideas you’ll come up with after you’ve had time to meet about this project, to really strategize one-on-one.”
Lynn continues in full-on excitement mode, suggesting that Tate and I meet weekly and update her periodically to ensure this special project is a success. My throat dries up. Work with Tate one-on-one? Meet with him every week? Hell, no. It’s already impossible for us to exist in separate offices across the hall from each other. I have to get out of this.
I whip my head to Tate. “As great as this idea is, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to contribute. It’s your idea, after all, and you just sprung it on me three minutes ago.”
Tate frowns.
“Oh, Emmie. Don’t sell yourself short!” Lynn says. “Nuts & Bolts’ website content has vastly improved over the past couple of years because of you. I know you’ll be able to apply those stellar skills to the charity homebuilding project.” She gestures to Tate, calling him a social media rock star. He raises an eyebrow when she looks back at me. “This project will be dynamite. I’m sure of it!”
She gazes at us tenderly, beaming with immeasurable hope and excitement. I stutter through a few more “ums,” fighting the urge to scream.
After giving us an encouraging squeeze on the shoulders, she claps her hands in delight. “Wonderful! Just wonderful, you two! This idea is so very touching. You know, if you produce some outstanding results with this project, I think I could get you both a week of paid time off each. Maybe even two!”
When I’m back at my office, I plop down in my chair, stunned. I now have to squeeze in bicker sessions with Tate in addition to my regular work during the week. Great.
“That was a weak showing in there.”
I stop typing to see Tate hovering at my open doorway. “What?”
“Look, I know you don’t want to do this extra project, but it’s for a good cause,” he says. “Quit whining and suck it up.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe you should have consulted with me before announcing your grand plan to Lynn.”
He shakes his head at me. “Like you would have said yes.”
My silence is a reluctant agreement. I would have absolutely shot it down.
“How will we even get this project off the ground? We have a hard enough time sitting across the hall from each other.”
“Ah yes, here we go with the theatrics. Give it a rest, Emmie.”
“Do you know how long it takes to build a house from the ground up? About a year. That means we’ll have to work together—one-on-one—for the next twelve months.”
He stares at me with a neutral expression, as if he’s suddenly forgotten our volatile work history.