Chapter 26 – Grant
TWENTY-SIX
GRANT
He needed to build up her resume. So he could fire her.
I stared down at the brochures in my hand. I’d had some time to think about what came next for me. For Flowers. I’d formulated what I anticipated was a reasonable plan moving forward.
I wanted her out of my life.
However, I sure as hell wasn’t sending her back to an uncertain situation. Which meant there were steps she needed to take.
There was no way to just hand her the money. I’d gone so far as considering rigging a lottery ticket, but she was too clever for all that shit. This needed to be done the right way. The systematic way. So she would think it was on her terms. So it would be on her terms.
I needed to do this without letting her know what I was up to, and before…
Before I crossed a line. Or she did.
I wasn’t so oblivious I couldn’t see what was happening from her side.
That I was able to inflict emotional pain at all meant I was becoming too intrinsic in her life.
She was a person who’d had to navigate her life singularly since she was a child, and now she was working for a person who took up all of her space.
Who showed up drunk at her door on the anniversary of his wife’s death.
Who raced to her rescue when she asked for help.
We’d both walked up to the line, looked down at it, and then backed away.
And we’d gotten particularly good at pretending we hadn’t both seen the line.
But that couldn’t last forever. That much I could feel.
I stood up, brochures in hand, and left my office, crossing the lobby to her smaller office.
She was sitting behind her smaller desk absorbed in the monitor in front of her.
I’d gotten her a standalone 22inch monitor that she could plug into her laptop along with Bluetooth keyboard, and it was like I’d shown her color television for the first time, she’d been so excited.
“Flowers, what are you doing?”
She jerked at the sound of my voice, unprepared for my arrival or question, and I smiled thinking turnabout was fair play.
Her brow furrowed. “I’m doing the thing you said. The analytic thing-a-ma-jig.”
“See, this is your problem,” I said.
“I have a problem?”
“You do,” I nodded. “You’ve done well with the assignments I’ve given you, but you’re missing a critical piece.”
“Okay. What?”
“You need the vocabulary,” I said, with a serious expression.
I lifted a hand to loosen the tie around my neck. I’d had a breakfast meeting earlier with an old mentor that I respected enough to dress for the occasion. Larry had always appreciated proper protocol for a meeting, so I’d gone with the power suit and a red tie.
Although now it felt like the silk material was strangling me. I loosened it, which must have brought attention to what was in my hand.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I’m glad you asked,” I said with a genial smile.
“I didn’t really,” she said, shifting a bit in her seat.
She was wearing her standard fare, business casual clothes. Her hair, which she’d done special for Thanksgiving, was once again pulled back in a clip. Plain and professional. Very on brand for her. Not really sexual at all, so there was no reason for my brain to ever go there.
“You announced I had a problem,” she continued. “I’m assuming whatever is in your hand has something to do with resolving the problem.”
“It does. Now hear me out.” I took the chair across from her desk and spread out the multiple brochures I’d picked up after meeting with Larry.
He’d been a superlative mentor in my old company, often working with associates to help guide them in their career path. Having been retired now for several years over in Ft. Worth, I’d realized sitting down with him again, I hadn’t done a good enough job of staying in touch.
Making sure he was doing okay. He’d lost his husband last year to cancer.
He’d said he was getting along. I’d said the same thing.
Then he’d asked me about my new protégé, and finally, neither one of us had to think about our grief anymore.
Cautiously, she picked up the first one. The front of the brochure showed a girl her age with a guy sitting next to her in what appeared to be a park. They were laughing and there were books open on their laps.
HCC.
Houston Community College.
“You want me to go to school?” she asked.
“I want you to learn the business vocabulary and the only way you can do that is if you continue your education.”
She put the brochure down. “I’ve done alright without college so far,” she said. Her voice unnaturally neutral.
“Flowers, face it,” I told her. “You got lucky. This job was an accident. A wrong door you walked through. But if we’re going to continue your growth, you need some fundamentals. Business 101 for lack of a better term. A couple of classes at community college would be good for you.”
“You’re already making me take driving lessons, now you want me to add more classes?” Her hand fiddled with the clip in the back of her head.
“You’ll be through your driving course in a few weeks,” I said, dismissing her concern. “You’ll start your classes for the winter semester at the end of January.”
She leaned back in her chair and carefully folded her arms across her chest.
“What are you thinking?” I pressed her.
“You think I’m not good enough for this job,” she said. There was an attitude that came with the accusation. A chip-on-the-shoulder tone I’d never heard from her before. “Why don’t you just fire me then?”
“Flowers,” I said, my voice getting stern. She was missing the point. “This is about growth.”
“Or maybe it’s not about the job at all.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You want to elaborate?”
Immediately, she shut down and looked away from me.
“Say it,” I snapped. “I’m not a mind reader. This was intended to be a positive. Furthering your education is a part of any job, Flowers. That’s all this is about.”
Except, I could see, even in just the profile of her face, that’s not how she was receiving my gesture.
Finally, she picked up the pamphlet again. “You’re right. Of course. I’ll enroll in the classes. That’s a really good idea, E.G. Thanks for suggesting it.”
I felt awkward just sitting across from her, so I stood and shoved my hands into my pants pockets, ruining the lines of the suit.
“I’ll pay for the classes, of course,” I said.
Was it about the money? Was she upset about that? Because there was no doubt I’d touched some internal nerve.
“I can pay for them,” she said, lifting her chin, but still not making eye contact with me. “I have savings now.”
“No. As I said, continuing education is expected, so it’s a perk. Same as it was in my former company. This isn’t a handout, Flowers.”
“Fine.” She nodded tightly.
“Good,” I said, turning toward the door. The need to get out of her office was palpable. “I’ll check out the courses available and make a few recommendations. This is a really good opportunity. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure I will.”
I left her office then, and wasn’t halfway to mine, when I heard the very unfamiliar sound of her door slamming shut.