Chapter 12 Calliope
CALLIOPE
“What were you doing with Elijah?” Victoria finally releases my arm in the elevator and winks at me. “Are you trying to woo the gemstone supplier?”
“No!” My cheeks flare immediately and suddenly, the coffee in my hands feels more like a bribe than anything else. “We just bumped into one another at the coffee place, that’s all.”
“Oh, really? You just happened to bump into the hot out-of-state man who’s here to check up on the quality of his gemstones?”
“Yes.” Although the more honest I try to sound, the more it sounds like I’m lying, and Victoria doesn’t look like she believes me one bit.
“I saw how he was looking at you,” she continues as the elevator whooshes up to my floor. “I bet there’s something other than gemstones that he wants to check.”
“Oh, my God, stop!” It takes all my effort to keep my tone playful. “What’s this emergency you were blabbering on about?”
All lightness fades from Victoria’s eyes and she groans.
“Oh, right. You’re not going to like this, but Jimmy wants you to do fresh inventory on everything that was damaged in the leak.
He also wants you to take pictures of everything, and not only that, but we then have to go through everything that arrived downstairs earlier because apparently, he was moving a bunch of your stock to the stores? ”
“Wait, the stock that was in that room was for the stores?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Since when?” All the pleasant, relaxed feelings from my walk with Elijah vanish as we step out of the elevator. “Everything in there was for my January subscription box. What does he mean it’s now for the stores?”
“I’m sorry, babe, but that’s what he’s saying. So everything that’s downstairs, after you’ve cataloged it, is now going to the stores.”
“Why would I catalog it if it’s not going on the website?”
Victoria grimaces and pushes her bangs out of her face. “Because he wants you to advertise the stores.”
“This is…” I catch myself immediately, not wanting Victoria to get the brunt of my rising anger. “Where is he?”
“In his office.”
“I’ll be right back.” After a stop off in the bathroom to pour my coffee down the sink, I storm through to Jimmy’s office and barge in without knocking.
He’s lounging back in his seat with his feet up on his desk and a phone pressed to his ear. When he spots me, his expression darkens. “I’m on a call, go away.”
Anger surges through me and I approach his desk and slam my hand down on his phone cradle, ending the call. “Tell me Victoria was lying.”
“The fuck are you doing?”
“Me? I’ve just lost countless stock that I had stored because you cut back on security that would have found that leak before it turned into the disaster it is.
Now you’re telling me all my replacement stock is to go to the stores because you changed the shipments?
What am I supposed to put in the January subscription boxes?
What am I supposed to tell those customers? ”
Jimmy’s toothpick darts from one side of his mouth to the other. “You know what you can put in those boxes?”
“What?”
“Onyx bracelets.”
My heart plummets down into my gut. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. I need to get rid of them, so you can have them.”
“Does it never cross your mind how much damage you do to this brand by making me cancel orders, disappoint customers, and then a month later shove the bracelets into the January boxes? It’s spitting in the face of all the people you had me deny last month!”
Jimmy smirks and lowers his feet from the desk, then leans forward slowly. “Listen to me, Calliope. I do not care. If you had put those bracelets on the website in the first place, then we wouldn’t be in this position, would we?”
It’s pointless. We’ve already had this argument and he’ll never accept that he was the one who told me to take them down. My chest swells as if air is leaking in from somewhere, and I’m far too angry to speak. In the end, I leave his office and slam the door as hard as I can behind me.
He’s there, sabotaging me at every corner.
Maybe I should be grateful to get the bracelets because so many of our customers loved the look of them, but the thought of having to deal with the influx of emails and complaints that we’re now selling something we previously denied to people makes my stomach roll.
Today started so nicely.
Just like that, my day vanishes. I spend hours checking and cataloging every damaged box and every piece of jewelry affected by the leak.
Those that aren’t completely waterlogged are stacked in a separate office where Jimmy insists we’ll be able to sell them at a discount.
I don’t have the energy to tell him that no one is going to want to buy jewelry that was caught in a flood caused by a burst waste pipe and simply add it to my list of things to do.
By the time four o’clock rolls around, nothing I wanted to do today has been done, but I get the inventory done.
Then it’s a quick call to Mom to tell her I’ll be late, and I spend the next two hours helping Victoria catalog my new stock so it can be sent to the stores overnight.
Everything I’d ordered for the January boxes will now end up in window displays while I deal with disappointed customers who expected jade necklaces and aquamarine rings. Instead, they get onyx bracelets.
My last two hours at work involve frantically packing what small orders I can squeeze out, answering a string of emails explaining the delays with countless apologies, and fielding the usual calls about delays with postage over Christmas. By the time I make it home, I’m utterly worn down.
“Mom!” Nick dives into my arms the second I walk through the door.
“Hi, baby.” Tired, I shrug off my coat and slowly hang it up.
“Look! Look!” Nick bounces up and down on the balls of his feet and thrusts a handmade card into my hands. “It’s from Tobey!”
“Aw, how sweet.” A squiggly Santa is drawn on the cover with messy writing inside where I can just about make out Tobey’s name.
“He said he missed me all over winter break and says next year, he’ll ask his mom if I can go to the Hymeneas with him!”
I pause, unravelling my scarf. “Where?”
“The Hymen—hymlineas!”
“The… the Himalayas?”
Nick frowns immediately. “That’s what I said!”
“Of course it is. I’m sorry, Nickie. Mommy’s tired.”
“Aw.” Nick pouts and leans forward, kissing the back of my hand. Then he sprints away with the card clutched in his hand and vanishes into the kitchen.
I follow after, struggling to get out of my boots. Nick’s on his stool next to Mom as she busies herself washing up the dishes.
“About time,” she mutters as soon as she sees me. “What’s the excuse this time?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Is there dinner?”
“We have Chinese food!” Nick declares with a grin.
“What?” I stop halfway into the kitchen. “Mom, did you order takeout again?”
“Did you expect me to cook?” she asks, looking over her shoulder. “Of course I ordered takeout.”
“It was so good!” Nick sings quietly, hopping off his stool. “I saved you noodles, Mommy.”
“Mom, I thought we talked about this. Takeout is a treat only for the weekends.”
“Then you should have been home, shouldn’t you?”
I grit my teeth so hard that pain flashes through my jaw and my irritation climbs as Nick tucks at my leg. “Mommy!”
“I had to work,” I bite out. “I called.”
“You chose work, I chose takeout. We all make bad decisions.”
“Mommy!”
“It’s not a bad decision when I’m the only one bringing money into this house.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Mom pulls her hands out of the soap-filled sink and turns to face me. “I’m a grieving widow! The workplace is no space for me while I’m like this.”
“We’re all grieving, but the world doesn’t stop just because you’re in pain.” It’s like an itch heating up the back of my neck as each word scrapes against my patience while Nick tugs at my leg again.
“Mommy!”
“If I were working, who would be taking care of Nick?” Mom snaps back.
“Someone who wouldn’t ignore my requests about what he eats!”
“Mommy!”
“What?” The moment I snap down at Nick, I instantly regret it as his big, wide eyes immediately flood with tears.
“Well done,” Mom mutters as Nick bursts into tears.
Biting my tongue hard, I scoop him up and leave the kitchen. “I’m sorry, baby. Mommy didn’t mean to yell.”
Louder and louder he cries, gasping against my neck and pushing at me with his hands until his card threatens to crumple against my clothes. I carry him with me through the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom.
“I’m sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry.”
“I–I just want—wanted to tell you a–about school!” he wails, sobbing from a mix of upset and overtiredness with how late it is.
“I know. Mommy’s tired too. That's why she snapped. I’m sorry.
You’re okay. You’re okay.” Sitting down on his bed, I gather him in my arms and rock back and forth, fighting the sting of tears that rise behind my eyes.
He doesn’t deserve this. Every time I swear Nick will never bear the brunt of my anger, something catches me off guard and I end up snapping.
Maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought.
Thankfully, Nick’s tears don’t last too long and when he calms, he tells me all about the exciting things he did at kindergarten.
From coloring and drawing, to experimenting with soft clay to make little figurines, and a new type of pasta at lunch, he tells me every detail as I get him ready for bed.
By the time I tuck him under the covers, his eyelids are drooping.
“I can’t wait to go back… tomorrow,” he says with a wide yawn. “But I can’t tell you, okay? It’s a secret.”
“What’s a secret?” I ask while sitting next to him.
“The clay thing I made. A secret.”
“Oh, okay, a secret clay thing. I won’t pry.”
“Good, because I won’t tell you. I’m great at keeping secrets.”
“Yes, you are.” With a warm smile, I lean down and kiss his forehead. “Do you want a story tonight?”
“Yes please!”
“Which one?” Standing, I cross the room and crouch in front of his small shelves holding every fairytale and story book available. “Jack and the Beanstalk? Goldilocks? Robin Hood?”
Silence is my answer, so I turn. Nick’s fast asleep already with his head nestled in the pillows and his earlier upset completely forgotten.
The sight is enough to soothe my heart, but the guilt for snapping at him remains a tight ball under my ribs as I head back downstairs.
The kitchen’s empty when I enter, so I retrieve a carton of cold noodles from the fridge and slump against the counter.
What a day.
I learned nothing from Elijah other than he’s not married anymore and he’s keeping up the pretense of a good CEO simply ensuring his product remains ethical.
It’s hard to pry without revealing what I know because I run the risk of ruining whatever the deal between him and Jimmy is.
And until I know more, I have to consider the possibility that the deal will be good.
Then again, after Jimmy screwed me over, I can’t fathom any good coming out of that damn company anymore.
The noodles, slathered in a sweet, sticky sauce, catch in my throat and I have to swallow repeatedly to get them to shift. Just as I shove another mouthful past my lips, Mom walks into the kitchen with a catalog in hand.
“What’s what?”
She ignores me at first, passing by me to reach the fridge and retrieve a bottle of wine. “Colors.”
“Colors?”
“For the living room.”
A wave of despair crashes over me. “We talked about this, Mom. We can’t afford to redecorate.”
“I won’t have you dictate what I can and can’t do in my own home!”
“Mom, I’m not trying to—”
“Yes, you are!” She brandishes the catalog like a weapon and points it at me. “You keep getting in the way of things that make me happy!”
“Are you kidding me?” I slam my noodles down on the counter.
“How can you stand there and act so ungrateful? I’m bending over backward to keep this family afloat, and all you want to do is throw away money we do not have on an unnecessary overhaul!
We don’t have the money, Mom! I’m trying to stop you from putting yourself in debt! ”
“You don’t understand,” Mom snaps right back. “You have no idea what it’s like to exist in this house and have everything remind me of your father! Everything we chose together, everything we picked out… I can’t look at it anymore. I can’t!”
My heart breaks, not just for her but for the disregard to my own pain. It’s a losing battle against the tears in my eyes. “Of course I understand. He was my dad. I loved him too. But he wouldn’t want us to put ourselves in debt over this.”
Mom’s eyes narrow to slits and her mouth twists. “All I’m trying to do is make this house livable,” she snaps bitterly. “How did I raise such a cruel daughter? What happened to you?”
She looks me up and down once and stalks out of the kitchen, leaving me speechless.
I don’t have the strength left to keep the tears at bay.