Chapter 30
Cassidy hasn't left the consulting firm, and Diane knows it — partly because she spent the whole week making it Tatiana's top priority to monitor everything happening in Human Resources, and partly because Clara put her out of her misery on Monday afternoon when she confirmed she'd spoken with the blonde the day after the disaster and talked her down from her instinct to kill someone, quit, and get as far away as her bank account would allow.
She leaves her office and heads straight to the elevator, selects the sixth floor, and the car lets out a low hum as the doors slide shut.
She tugs at the cuff of the blue shirt she's wearing today and rolls her shoulders, trying to shake off the tension that follows her around like a shadow.
She hadn't planned on having this conversation today, but for once in weeks everything has fallen into place.
Months of meetings held away from the office have finally paid off, and when she asked Whitestone's CEO for a private sit-down, Ethan Brooks told her he'd have forty-five minutes free on Tuesday.
Today is Tuesday, and that's more than enough time to say what she has to say.
"Go on in, he's expecting you," the secretary says when she reaches his door.
Diane thanks her and walks in with all the confidence she has always projected — and this time she actually feels it. Not a trace of doubt or fear.
"Diane, how are you?" Ethan gets to his feet, shakes her hand, and flashes a white-toothed grin. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you a coffee?"
Diane shakes her head as she sits.
"I'd rather get to the point." She crosses her legs and rests her hands on them. "I have a presentation to oversee."
"That's what I like to hear — work comes first," the man says with a corporate enthusiasm as fake as his hair. "I'm all ears."
She settles into the chair, unhurried.
"I'm here to submit my resignation." Diane watches the color drain from Ethan's face. "Of course I can give you a month to bring my replacement up to speed and handle the full transition."
An uncomfortable silence takes over the room, and Ethan has to clear his throat to break it.
"I'll say this is a surprise. I didn't see this coming — personally, I thought you were happy in your role." The CEO's expression hardens, as though he's just realized he's been betrayed. "We've kept you in that position for many years for you to walk away like this."
Diane smiles. She'd suspected this was coming.
"I earned that position, Ethan — through hard work and dedication.
" She holds his gaze. "For nearly two decades I've given this place everything I had and made you a great deal of money, but I won't lie: putting me through my paces against Frances Hartwell like a child on a playground was, at the very least, a low move. "
Ethan lifts his chin, making it clear he's the one in charge and doesn't owe her any explanations.
"With that ridiculous competition, I didn't just prove that my methods aren't outdated — I also realized I'm worth considerably more than I gave myself credit for.
" She moves her hands in an easy, unhurried gesture.
"I'm stepping down to go into business as an independent strategic consultant.
My services will be available to you if you want them.
Either way, I already have clients waiting.
I've worked with them, and they'd like to keep me on — you know how it goes: I know their companies inside and out, and I've made them a lot of money. "
A slight shift in Ethan's shoulders and the unnatural rise of his chest tell Diane she's hit the target.
She's spent nearly a year scheduling what were really strategic meetings disguised as professional visits with the key people at every company in Whitestone's portfolio.
She's offered plenty of recommendations along the way: a shift in strategy for a product launch, scaling back investment in a particular acquisition, or simply dropping the kind of advice that only someone who's spent half her life keeping businesses healthy can offer.
She may have let slip, over the last few months — as a small secret between colleagues — that she was thinking about leaving the firm to strike out on her own, and it's possible that more than one of them has been fairly interested in signing with her down the road.
And of course Diane worked closely with two attorneys who cost her a small fortune to make absolutely sure Whitestone couldn't come after her for unfair competition or client poaching.
Making it crystal clear — on the record — that she wasn't the one who went after those companies isn't easy to pull off, but the road to get here has been more than worth it: she hasn't even left the firm yet and she already has work lined up.
"As I'm sure you understand, Ethan, there's a significant difference between paying for Whitestone's services and hiring an outside consultant.
You know that better than anyone." She waves a hand as if the comment were barely worth mentioning.
"Bringing in Frances Hartwell must have given you some idea. "
Another shot to the chest, point-blank this time, delivered with a smile that never shows her teeth.
Diane Carter doesn't even need to keep working.
She had so many financial struggles in the early part of her life that she never wasted a single dollar of what she earned.
She made smart purchases: the properties, the power wardrobe, the personal trainer, dinners at her favorite restaurant.
She doesn't have household staff, and she's never taken any big trips.
The only thing she's ever done is work to build a name for herself, forgetting to live in the process — but now, doing things her way, she'll be able to clear her head a little, find something steady to hold onto when the noise inside gets too loud to bear, and start making sense of her life.
She's never believed in making up for lost time — it isn't even physically possible — so she'll keep moving forward without looking back.
"We'll need you to file that resignation formally with Human Resources." He glances at his watch and pretends he's run out of time for her. "Once we receive it, we'll let you know next steps."
Diane gets to her feet before Ethan can come up with some flimsy excuse to show her out.
"I have it ready." She smooths her palms over her thighs, pressing out wrinkles that aren't there. "I wanted to give you the information in person first" — which amounts to wanting to see the look on his face when he realizes his greatest asset is walking out the door — "before sending it over."
Ethan stands as well. Diane knows he does it because a CEO can never completely lose his composure the way she's sure he just did, and he extends his hand toward her.
"Best of luck going forward." His eyes are cold.
"Thank you, Ethan." She puts extra pressure into the handshake. "Best of luck to you too."
Diane releases his hand and turns to go.
She walks out of the office with her chin up and her step light.
Ethan Brooks thinks that being the top man at Whitestone gives him an intelligence superior to everyone else's, and it must be painful to realize he's nothing more than a mediocre pawn the moment a woman sits across from him and tells him not only that she's leaving, but that she'll be taking the golden geese with her.
Let him bring Frances Hartwell back and let that fool tell him what to do.
● ● ●
Tatiana stands by the window, directly across from her boss.
"They've set up a crisis committee," she explains. "And this morning Antoine de Villiers arrived — director of operations for the Delacroix Group."
Diane keeps her gaze fixed on the street, watching a man try to beat the heat by drinking from a water bottle after wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief.
Outside, the sun beats down, and she's grateful to be indoors with the air conditioning running.
She smiles as her assistant fills her in on what's been happening on the sixth floor for the past three days — ever since she walked out of Ethan's office and, minutes later, sent her resignation to Human Resources.
She'd told Tatiana right then and there, not just to keep her in the loop about what was being said in the hallways, but because she was one of the few people who deserved to know that their despised boss was setting her free.
To her surprise, the woman seemed genuinely saddened by the news.
"Even if it's hard to believe, I'm going to miss you," Tatiana had said, without closing the distance between them. "Working with you has been invaluable. I've learned a lot, and I sincerely hope everything goes well for you."
Diane had her doubts, but she chose to believe what the woman who'd been her assistant for the past several years — by far the most competent of all of them — was telling her.
"They'll be nervous, thinking I'm going to declare some kind of war." Diane tucks her hands into her pockets and presses her lips together. "Much as they'd like to believe it, one woman can't take on a firm like Whitestone — and that's not my intention anyway. I have no motivation for it."
"Several names have been floated as your replacement, but the one getting the most traction is Clara," Tatiana continues with her update.
That was something Diane already knew, and even though things between them are still like broken glass, she hadn't been able to speak to Ethan without first speaking to her.
It was during that same conversation that Clara told her Cassidy was still working at the firm — and she'd shrugged off the rest: she had plenty of years left before retirement, and if the company asked her to step into a new role, she'd take it. She liked her work, generally speaking.
"She'll do well. Clara is good at everything she does." Tatiana's eyes go wide — she can't help it. It's the first time she's ever heard her boss praise anyone that way. "Anyway — is everything set for the meeting?"
"Yes, in half an hour in conference room two." Work mode kicks back in, and Tatiana taps at her iPad.
The day unfolds with a particular kind of calm — the kind that comes before a storm that, for the first time, Diane won't have to manage.
She had two team meetings and one with the finance department.
Late in the afternoon Human Resources called her in to sign a couple of documents, and now, at last, she's back in her office.
It's eight o'clock on a Friday evening and she's fairly certain she's the only one left in the entire building.
She's about to leave — completely exhausted — and she's on her way to the door when two voices in the hallway bring her to a stop.
Her heart leaps so hard she's sure her chest actually moved: it's Cassidy, talking with Clara.
She can't make out the whole conversation, only scattered fragments about an old campaign, then laughter, then what sounds like a goodbye, followed by footsteps fading away.
Diane stays there for she doesn't know how long, waiting for the shaking inside her chest to settle.
She hadn't heard her voice since everything fell apart, and hearing it now is like a punch straight to the head.
She steps out when she's sure she can keep her stride steady and moves down the hallway without looking anywhere but straight ahead.
She presses the elevator button, the metal doors open, and she steps inside, pulling her phone from her pocket to check a notification that came in a while ago and she hadn't gotten to.
She doesn't notice the doors sliding open again until a flash of blonde makes her look up.
"Hi," Cassidy says — more out of politeness than any real desire — and presses the lobby button before turning her back to Diane.
The ride down takes only a few seconds, but for Diane Carter it's as if time has stopped to give her a reprieve — a moment to think about what this means.
Then a rush of memories crashes into her: her parents demanding she get married for the good of the family.
Herself at seventeen, alone and scared in a city she didn't know.
Passed out on a bar counter after drinking more than her body could handle.
Loneliness. Clara. Pain, and Cassidy. From that point on, the flashes shift in color, and green — that green — bleeds into everything.
Smiles she never gave anyone else, her bed no longer empty, life.
That's what Cassidy Collins means to her: feeling alive.
"I have a deal for you." Diane surprises herself with what just came out of her mouth, though her voice sounds steady — right as the elevator doors open.
Cassidy freezes for an instant. She clearly wasn't expecting to hear her speak, but what turns her into something solid and motionless is the sentence itself — the same one she said to Diane what feels like a lifetime ago, standing at her office door, trying to prove she was making a mistake by firing her.
"One month. And I can't promise you I won't make mistakes." Diane tightens her grip on her briefcase handle. "But I can promise I'll use everything I have to show you what you mean to me and how wrong I was to push you out of my life."
Cassidy holds still. The elevator doors slide closed again and all that's left is the sound of two people breathing hard.
"There's no blacklist to put you on for this one," the blonde says, repeating the threat she had leveled at her the first time she made a mistake.
"Spending the rest of my life knowing what an idiot I was for letting you go is a punishment I'll carry forever."
Cassidy turns slowly, and when green meets blue her heart kicks into high gear and something electric moves through her entire body.
She's quiet for a few seconds, searching that face she loves so much, looking for something — a reason to take a step back.
She doesn't find one. She doesn't know if it's because it isn't there or simply because she never learned how to read her.
"Then we have a deal." She extends her hand to seal it, and this time — unlike before — Diane raises hers to meet it, their palms pressing together.
Diane feels her lungs open wide. God. She can breathe again.
"We do," she says, with a single nod.