Chapter 33
Someone’s at the door.
It’s a Monday two weeks after we first went out with Dawn and Jamie, and we’ve met them each Sunday for brunch, and we’ve also gotten together a few times in the evenings.
I’ve also been hanging out with Dawn on and off while Sam is at work, because I’ve been at a bit of a loose end.
The renovation for my mother’s friend Hillary is all but done, and I haven’t heard anything else about the coffee shop.
The few times I’ve crossed paths with Catherine, she’s been too busy to talk about it, and the board hasn’t held another meeting.
Thankfully, my appointment with Judy Abelman is today, and I’m looking forward to picking up another client. Then, just as I’m about to leave, there’s that knock at the door. I put my jacket on, then grab my phone from the kitchen island and bag from a hook near the front door before answering.
It’s Catherine.
“Jordan, my dear, I do hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” she says, even as she blocks me from leaving the apartment. “I was hoping to have a chat about the coffee shop.”
“It is kind of a bad time. I have an appointment across town,” I tell her. “Can we talk when I get back?”
“I’d rather talk now, if you have a minute. I’ll try not to keep you very long.”
“Catherine, I’d love to talk, but I have a meeting with a potential client.”
“And what about our meeting?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I check the calendar app on my phone because I always enter my commitments and set an alarm so that I won’t forget, but there’s nothing.
The only entry is for the appointment my mother made, and I’m not so busy that I would have double booked.
“There must be a mistake. We don’t have a meeting. It’s not in my phone.”
“It’s you who must be mistaken, my dear. We talked about it last Thursday in the lobby, and you said it would be fine. Maybe it slipped your mind?”
“I don’t think so.” I did bump into Catherine in the lobby that afternoon while I was getting the mail, but our conversation was brief, because as usual, she was in a hurry. We barely talked, let alone made plans to meet.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“What? Absolutely not. I just think there’s been a misunderstanding.” I glance at my phone to check the time. If I don’t leave right now, I won’t make it across town in time for my appointment. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Can we talk then?”
Catherine doesn’t move out of my way. Instead, she pushes past me into the apartment.
“Jordan, this is completely unacceptable. I haven’t heard a thing from you in weeks, even though you promised to keep me informed of your progress.
I’m not sure what you’ve been doing with your time, but you could at least tell the truth and admit that you forgot. ”
I’m not sure what’s going on. It’s Catherine who hasn’t wanted to talk about the project, not me. “I’m happy to discuss the coffee shop anytime you want.”
“Except for right now.” Catherine shakes her head.
“I went out on a limb to convince the board that we should hire you. They weren’t totally convinced, given your lack of experience.
You haven’t ever designed a commercial space before.
From what I understand, you’ve been doing odd jobs for your mother’s friends, which is hardly the same.
But I like to keep things in the Glendale family, which is why I fought so hard for you. I do hope that wasn’t a mistake.”
I stare at her, open mouthed. What the hell? “No. It wasn’t a . . . I can do this . . . You didn’t make a mistake,” I stammer.
“Are you sure about that? Because you seem more concerned with racing out of here than honoring the commitment you made to your client. A well-paying client, I might add. And for what? The opportunity to chat about paint colors with yet another one of your mother’s friends?”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it? Oh, Jordan, don’t you see? Those people aren’t hiring you because they want to. You didn’t earn their business or wow them with your talent. They’re only doing it as a favor to your mother, probably because they can’t figure out how to say no.”
“I don’t think—” A lump rises in my throat, choking off my reply. This is a mean, vindictive side of Catherine that I haven’t seen before.
“Look, I’m not saying this to upset you, my dear.
Maybe you’re right and those people really do value your talents, but you need to get your priorities straight.
We’re paying you a lot of money, and we’re putting a lot of trust in you.
I understand that mistakes happen, but now that you realize your error, a little humility would go a long way. ”
I drop my head, because she’s correct. The board of the Glendale is paying me a lot of money, even if I haven’t seen one red cent of it yet and don’t know when I will.
It would be foolish to risk my first commercial client—who also happens to be my landlord, in a roundabout way—just to go see a woman who probably is doing a favor for my mother.
And that’s what hurts the most, because Catherine has hit a nerve.
It’s not like I haven’t had the same thought.
I slip the bag off my shoulder, then hang it back on the coatrack next to the door before removing my jacket.
“You’re right, Catherine. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s better. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to discuss the coffee shop. Make sure we’re both on the same page.”
“Sure.” I don’t want to leave Judy Abelman waiting for me. “Would you mind if I make a quick call?”
“If you must.” There is a tone of weary frustration in Catherine’s voice, as if even making a two-minute phone call is somehow a sign of my lax priorities.
I retreat to my office and make the call, rescheduling for the following week. Judy isn’t in a hurry, despite how my mother made it sound, so she’s happy to put it off.
When I step back out of the office, Catherine is waiting with folded arms. “All set?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good. Then perhaps we can get back to more important business.” She reaches into her pocket and takes out a folded wad of papers. “I have a contract for you to sign.”
“There’s a contract?”
“Of course there’s a contract. This is exactly what I was talking about, my dear. But if you’d rather continue taking scraps from your mother’s friends because they feel sorry for you, we can find someone else who will appreciate this opportunity.”
“No. Don’t do that.” I had thought our agreement was more casual, especially after all that talk of the Glendale family and keeping it in-house. Apparently I was wrong. But I know enough not to sign something I haven’t read. “Would you mind if Sam looks it over?”
She hands me the contract. “Be my guest. But don’t take too long, or we might be forced to look elsewhere.” She fixes me with a hard stare. “And that would make things very awkward, given your residency at the Glendale. Very awkward indeed.”