“Oh, my mistake,” Kate sassed. “Just a measly little half million then. Definitely nothing to write home about. Practically small change. I could probably find that much in my couch cushions.”
“Come on, Katie,” I whined. “You’re my best friend! Validate me!”
Kate patted my hand gently. “Oh honey, I know why you feel like you had to turn him down, and I’m not saying you’re wrong. Heck, I’m actually hella proud of you for sticking to your guns. You know that.”
She sighed, and carefully eased my hands away from my face, framing it in her hands instead so I had to meet her eyes.
“I just know how much you want to be independent and able to tell all the big jerk-wads to kiss your ass, and free of all your student debt and stuff. And I wish you could have that too. I want you to be happy.”
“It wouldn’t really be independence, though,” I said sadly. “Not if it came from lying for Grant.”
“Girl, I know. Hell, I guess I was probably projecting some too.” She swished her orange juice around her mouth contemplatively. “I wish I could quit and work on my lingerie full-time instead of playing nicey-nice with the jag-offs who think I live to serve them. ‘Put me through to the CEO right now or you’ll regret it!’” she mimicked. “Or ‘hey, pretty thing, is it just the candy or are you for sampling too?’ Ugh.”
“You’ll get out someday,” I told her. “You’re too talented not to.”
“You too, girl,” she said with a grin. “As long as you keep following my advice, anyway.”
? ? ?
“Congratulations,” Gail said stiffly. “We’re all so pleased to hear the news of your engagement.”
“It’s so thrilling!” Michelle enthused. “Was it a surprise? My sister says he must have told you ahead of time or he wouldn’t have done it, but in the pictures you just look so surprised!”
“Are you going to have a killer party?” Ken asked. “We’re invited, right?” He laughed in that joking-not-joking way people have when they want you to give them something but don’t want to come out and ask for it and risk being rejected.
I could see the rest of the attendees of the meeting bucking for their chance to leap in and congratulate me, and coincidentally, get me to acknowledge them and maybe favor their personal work projects, and I decided to cut this nonsense off at the pass before it all snowballed into a congratulations avalanche and we had to call out a rescue team to dig me out from under the deep layers of smothering well-wishes.
Plus, it was hard enough acting like I couldn’t see Grant in the corner, couldn’t feel his eyes tracing the tight contours of my curve-hugging power suit, without everyone reminding me that in the eyes of the world, we were the latest Brangelina-esque power couple.
“Thank you all, but we’re here for business, people, so let’s get to it,” I said briskly. Maybe too briskly. Everyone leapt for their seats and their laptops like I’d electrocuted them.
Gail and Michelle’s presentation was first. They held up a graph that resembled the flight of a rocket.
“The share price is undergoing an unbelievable rebound,” Michelle chirped. Gail clicked on the projector, which displayed glowing quotes from various business journals about our recent success. “Forbes called us a ‘Cinderella story!’”
I asked Michelle and Gail a few questions about the long-term sustainability of the share price increase, and we put together a committee dedicated to keeping it growing a stable rate. Next up were Ken and his cronies from marketing. Ken popped his collar—who did he think he was, a prep school senior?—and began:
“So, uh, this is one of our ads. It’s totally blowing them away in the forty plus male demographic. Ninety percent approval rating. Dim the lights, guys.”
An intern dimmed the lights while Ken called up a video on YouTube. Gentle violin music played as the camera panned over white marble columns, perfectly manicured green lawns, and flower beds so crisp and clean it looked as though they had never even heard of the concept of weeds.
“Family,” intoned a rich British accent as the camera continued to pan across to a picnic table by a lake so picturesque it could have been painted by Norman Rockwell, with a small blonde boy and a golden retriever romping in the shallows. “Family is the greatest gift of all.
“Family feeds us, clothes us, protects us,” the voiceover continued in its rich plummy tones as the ad cut from a view of a blonde family seated around a Thanksgiving dinner table while a golden retriever watched hopefully, a young girl in a graduation gown having her cap fixed to her head by a proud mother, a father scooping two little twins in matching onesies out of the way of an oncoming car.
“Even when there’s nothing else we can count on—we can count on family.”