What a crock.
She'd tried half of the suggestions in the tiny leaflet last night, and all she'd come away with was frustration and the very definite impression that she was not designed to relax. It was possible, wasn't it? That some people's happy place was simply brainstorming on their next project. That some people just didn't like to lay back in the grass and watch the clouds?
She'd even given that stupid guided meditation a go, following along with a video she'd found online, but every time she got to the "space of opportunity" she found her inner self staring at her desk at work, with a stack of papers already waiting for her to sort and read through.
Inner peace wasn't only overrated, it simply wasn't possible. Not for her, anyway.
And besides, what did that stupid doctor think he knew anyway? He probably went to some island medical school where they taught people how to deal with shark bites and other tropical illnesses. He couldn't understand what it was really like--what life in the corporate world did to people. She pictured him, all tall and tan and lean. It was probably easy to relax when you looked like that. And on an island like this, he probably found plenty of people to help him relax...
Maybe that was all she needed. A nice, quick lay. Something to brush off the tension and keep the punches rolling. It had been so long that she could hardly remember what that kind of release felt like.
She glanced around the table covertly, watching as the head of accounting crunched into a piece of bacon and used his hand to wipe his mouth. Cast a quick look at Steve in marketing as he downed some orange juice that most definitely had a vodka kick to it.
Okay, maybe some things were easier thought of than done...
Felicia closed the pamphlet for what felt like the hundredth time and stared at the piece of now-cold toast in front of her. Taking a sip from her coffee, she shook her head and tried to bring herself back to the present. She shouldn't be worried about stupid things like serenity or whatever hippy nonsense the doctor had in mind right now. This morning, she was going to give a speech that would knock the company's collective socks off. She was going to get out of this funk with Frank, get back to New York, and then she could worry about everything else.
Then and only then.
She crunched into her toast, then reached for one of the little jam packets in the middle of the table when Barbara, the secretarial assistant, caught her eye from across the room and made a bee-line for her.
Silently, Felicia did her best to suppress a sigh, knowing already what was coming--
"Did you hear?" Barbara asked, apparently too worked up to bother with pleasantries.
"I'm going to guess I haven't." Felicia said not unkindly, and leaned her head on her fist.
"Frank and some of the higher ups had another meeting before breakfast this morning. They had me arrange it all."
Felicia frowned. "Why would they do that?"
"Well, there are a few schools of thought, but I'll tell you what I think--this whole trip is to divide the haves from the have nots."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it, a merger always means people are going to get laid off and made redundant."
"But they already--"
"Yes, they already let a few people go. High salary workers, too. They're trying to decide who is fit for the company to move up in the ranks and who doesn't have a place anymore." Barbara glanced covertly around the table. "But don't tell anyone you heard it from me."
"Of course not," Felicia said. "But why are you telling me--"
Barbara's thin mouth contorted in something like a pained expression, and then the door on the far side of the room opened and she was off like a shot, back to her table with the rest of the secretarial pool. Felicia blinked after her for a moment, then turned her attention back to the notecards on the table in front of her. As Frank beamed and waved as he made his way across the conference hall, she stuffed her pamphlet in her tiny brown purse and then made sure all her notes were in order.
This was it. Her big chance. The speech she'd been preparing for weeks and weeks and--
A too-gentle palm rested on her shoulder and she craned her neck to find Frank standing over her, his too-friendly smile still plastered in place.
"Good morning," she said.
"Good morning, Moonbeam. Would you mind if I sit?" He gestured to the empty chair beside her and she shook her head.
With a gentle groan, he settled into the seat and for the first time his dreamy grin faltered. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"Okay," she did her best to look nonplussed, but put her toast down all the same. "What's up?"
She tried for her most casual tone, but Frank still looked at her like he was sitting beside her deathbed. Which, all in all, was not nearly as comforting as he might have thought.
"The other board members and I have discussed it, and given what happened yesterday--"