Chapter 2
Chapter two
Sixteen years later in August, Seattle: Tabitha
“Look, Handcock. I’m not pussyfootin’ around today.”
Tabitha jumped as her boss plowed through the office door. The sturdy woman stocked around the large, cluttered desk and planted herself in the weathered ergonomic chair that had likely followed her through the bulk of her editorial career.
“It’s good to see you too, Claudia,” Tabitha softly teased in a dry tone and relaxed a little in one of the mismatched chairs opposite her superior.
Waiting to have her performance ranked was always the worst part of the whole annual review process, and while she’d shown up on time, she’d been left waiting an entire hour in an office that wasn’t hers.
Every moment sitting in the small, cluttered room while the muffled din of co-workers chattering away seeped through the walls felt agonizing.
She should have been working from her home office (or even the satellite desk down the hall) and wondered why Claudia’s assistant hadn’t told her she was running late.
A gravelly laugh tumbled across the desk, mingling with the drag of the same desk's top drawer being tugged open. “Mind if I eat this while we talk? I was in a damned advertising meeting that went on longer than my son’s god-awful improv showcase last night.”
“Of course, go ahead,” Tabitha said with a nod, ready to get on with the review.
Claudia fiddled with the wrapper and crunched a big bite before setting the crumbly granola bar on one of the haphazard piles of papers in front of her.
After flipping through a few files strewn out, she finally located the one she needed and slid it out from an impressively large stack.
The motion reminded Tabitha of those jugglers or magicians who could pull an entire tablecloth out from under a bunch of dishes without so much as a wobble.
Claudia flopped open the manilla folder and put on the pair of readers that had been dangling from a beaded chain around her neck.
As she leaned forward, bits of oats and seed tumbled off the worn, Eddie Bauer puffer vest she always wore.
Another crunch of the granola bar and a few hums later and she closed the folder, not bothering to brush away the fallen crumbs first.
“You asked for a raise.” Claudia eyed her employee over the top of her forest green frames.
“I did,” Tabitha stated, sitting up straight and prepared to launch into the impressively long list of reasons she deserved the pay bump.
The top of that list being that she was closing in on her tenth year as a journalist with Rock ‘n’ Ropes and had never once missed a deadline.
She opened her mouth to continue but her boss’s raised hand stopped her.
“I’m going to be blunt. And it’s not good news.” Claudia leaned back in her chair and leveled a hard gaze across the desk. “The brass says budget cuts are coming and they’ve tasked me with deciding who stays and who goes.”
An unsettling heat rolled up Tabitha’s neck and prickled at her scalp.
She could almost taste the beat of her heart as it thumped at the back of her throat.
Forget the raise. Was her job on the line?
No. She’d given everything she had to the women’s climbing magazine over the past decade.
This couldn’t be happening. There was no way she’d be the one to go.
“Have you made your decision?” she asked with zero emotion and practiced calm, a skill she’d learned at a very young age.
Emotions meant trouble if they weren’t reigned in, especially in professional situations.
Though she’d been fortunate enough to work for a magazine geared toward women, she wasn’t willing to let her trademark stoicism fade in the face of losing her job.
Stay tough, appear neutral.
Tabitha held her boss’s stare from across the peeling laminate desk and mountain of files and magazine copy. It was impossible not to catch the tired dullness in the older woman’s eyes.
“Not on all of them.”
It took every ounce of Tabitha’s willpower to redirect a wince into a head nod. “Am I on that list?”
Claudia sighed deeply before saying, “You’re a maybe.”
Blood rushed between Tabitha’s ears, the sound so loud it blocked out Claudia’s explanation.
She couldn’t lose this job. It’s not that other publications wouldn’t hire her, in fact she’d been headhunted many times during her career with R ‘n’ R.
Maybe not recently, but still. She wouldn’t be unemployed for long.
Except, what if other magazines were going through the same kind of reductions?
Print wasn’t as popular these days and while digital consumption had been keeping R ‘n’ R alive, would that last forever?
What would she do if she couldn’t write?
She didn’t have a backup plan. Her parents would be right about her, except she’d be a washed-up has-been twice over with zero prospects.
Tabitha counted to five as she inhaled and again as she exhaled, willing her heart rate and nausea to quiet. Spiraling out of control wouldn’t do any good. She needed to redirect her focus toward keeping her job, not the what if’s of getting laid off.
“What do I need to do to stay?”
“Here’s the thing, kid. Readers aren’t connecting with you like they used to. The feedback is that while your articles are informed and meticulous, they lack something.”
“Something?”
“Relatability. Realism. Authenticity.”
“Authenticity?” Tabitha sputtered. “I’ve spent my life climbing. From the time I was on the youth team at my local gym through my mid-twenties I—I competed and won countless times. Nationally. I’ve climbed in fifty-three countries.”
“Sure, but not recently,” Claudia soothed as best as a woman who wasn’t predisposed to do so could.
Pulling the glasses from her nose to let them dangle once more, she rubbed at both eyes.
Her elbows settled on the desk as she leaned forward.
“You haven’t been anywhere in years, Tabitha—for an article or vacation.
Your pieces reflect that. And at first, no one blamed you for not getting back out there.
Not after what happened, anyway. But the truth is, readers come for the adventure and want to believe you, the writer, have been a part of that adventure. ”
Tabitha ignored the defensiveness as it crept up her chest, desperate to keep a level head, even though everything Claudia said was true. “Ok, but I still write about where I’ve been. It’s not like the crag changes every year.”
“Your passion isn’t there. When was the last time you touched rock?”
“Tuesday at Tahoma Walls in Ballard,” Tabitha argued. “I go every Tuesday and Thursday after work.”
“I’m talking outside. We have someone who covers the indoor climbing gyms.”
“You mean two someones: Roberta and Priya.”
“Only Priya now,” Claudia said plainly with a tired shrug. “Ro was last in, first out.”
This couldn’t be happening. How many talented journalists could they lose and still survive? She pinched the meat of her thumb as her hands rested in her lap, the ache giving her brain somewhere to focus other than the total upending of her world.
“What now?”
“The way I see it, you have two choices.” Claudia stood, knees creaking. The nylon of her cargo hiking pants swished as she strode to the slightly ajar filing cabinet. Rifling around the top drawer, she continued. “I need a six-page spread on a guiding company in central Washington.”
Claudia returned to her desk and Tabitha took the tri-fold pamphlet from her boss’s outstretched hand.
Off the Beaten Adventures. The lively photos of hikers, rafters, and climbers practically jumped off the glossy page.
Joy and excitement had been captured in each pixel and splashed in full color to entice customers to come and play.
A flash of nostalgia sizzled through her veins but was almost immediately replaced by unease and dread.
“It’s in Leavenworth. Close enough to be affordable but with that far-away vibe,” Claudia said through more crunches of her snack. “Ever been?”
“Surprisingly, no.” The back flap showed a neat row of quaint Bavarian-themed shops with flowers hanging over railings and blue and white diamond-patterned flags on towering, striped poles. A row of jagged gray peaks loomed in the distance, and Tabitha’s fingertips began to twitch.
“They host all kinds of adventuring, but here’s where you come in”—she held up fingers as she counted—“three excursions: bouldering, a group-lead climbing class, and a private full-day multi-pitch. Cap it off with an interview with the business owner. He’s somewhat of a folk hero out there since he got stuck with a customer in a landslide and then married her.
It’s all very romantic and adventurous. Manage that while giving us a glimpse of the old Tabitha and your job is safe. ”
“You said I had two options. What’s the other?”
Claudia sighed and rose from her chair once more. She snatched one of the dozen or so file boxes lining the wall behind her desk and handed it to Tabitha. “Option two is to clean out your desk.”
“I primarily work from home. I only come in from time to time for—”
“It’s symbolic—you know what, never mind.
” Claudia grabbed the empty box and tossed it back onto the pile behind her, which toppled like a game of Jenga.
She looked up like she was praying to the ceiling panels for strength.
“It doesn’t matter because you’re going to go on this assignment, crush some routes, and write a badass article. Bing bang boom, easy peasy.”
“Easy peasy,” Tabitha drolled sarcastically.
“Perfect. I hate to boot you out, but I’m having the hot flash of the century and running late for my next meeting.
” Claudia shrugged out of her vest and pulled up the sleeves of her Columbia quarter zip.
The woman always managed to look like she’d just come from a winter weather sample sale .
. . regardless of the season. “Touch base with my assistant on the way out and she’ll book you a room.
And I hired Lark Watkins to be your photographer. ”
“Seriously? She’s a walking, talking agent of chaos.” Tabitha liked Lark, personally. And as a photographer, the woman had real talent. But the curvaceous blonde wasn’t exactly the most professional when it came to business. Or timeliness. Nor did she have any sort of filter.
“That’s one of the reasons I chose her.” Claudia ignored her employee’s grumble, crossed the office, and opened the door. “Maybe she’ll loosen you up a little and remind you that climbing is fun.”
Tabitha gathered her things and stepped out of the office but stopped and turned when her boss cleared her throat.
“I’m counting on you to not fuck this up.” The gruff delivery made Tabitha flinch. “I need you here, Handcock. Help me show these board of director muckity mucks exactly why.”