Twenty-One
This is the first time I have noticed how masculine Clara’s office is, at least, compared to mine. The views are magnificent,
wall to wall black steel-framed windows overlooking the hills, with modern, minimalist furnishings. On the wall is a Miro,
which I know to be real, behind a large glass desk with brass sawhorse legs. In the corner is a suede sectional, just like
the one in my father’s office, but covered in a biscuit-colored suede. A low wooden vase filled with succulents sits on the
coffee table, the only vaguely feminine touch in the room, although the succulents are spiky, and hard.
“You need a few pillows and throws in here,” I joke to hide my nerves. I know Clara met with the board this morning. If I
were more confident, I would have demanded to know the results immediately, just as my father would have done. Instead, I
waited for the call summoning me to Clara’s office to find out what they are proposing we do about the Journal piece.
Jerome is in here, looking unhappy, as is Tim Wellesley, the head of corporate PR.
“I like it bare.” Clara looks at her sofa. “Less work. Nothing to plump up when people leave. Have a seat.”
I sit, wondering why she sounds oddly formal.
“How did the meeting with the board go?”
She looks at me, then Keith, who clears his throat and steps in.
“It was tough, Missy. There’s no getting around it. They feel that the piece has been enormously detrimental to the company,
not just because of the share prices . . .”
“. . . which we fully expect to get back to normal within a couple of weeks,” interrupts Clara.
“We do,” says Keith, “but they have a bigger problem with the optics.”
My heart leaps into my mouth. “Do they want me to resign?”
“No, no,” says Keith. “But we think it might be best right now for you to take a lower profile. Interestingly, there is a
tech conference coming up in Cannes and Inferno will be there, so it’s fairly important we have a representative from ipryy.
We would like to send you out to France for the conference, perhaps then on to the IT Expo in Florence, and then on to India
to inspect the new factories. A few weeks away will give this a chance to blow over and keep the shareholders happy.”
“A few weeks?” I ask. “How many weeks is a few? Three? Four?”
“The Tech Summit in Cannes is June 3, and the Expo in Florence is July 23, so we can fly you to India in between.”
I make some quick calculations in my head. “I will essentially be away for two months?”
“It’s more like six weeks,” interjects Clara. “Give or take.”
“Who will run ipryy while I’m gone?” My jaw sets, my body tense. Not from anger, but fear. I have let my father down, I have
let myself down. And now I’m being sent away. I can feel my cheeks aflame as I try to maintain my composure, but it’s hard.
All I keep thinking is that I have failed.
My father always said it doesn’t matter what people think, but he was wrong. Clearly it does matter. Very much.
“We’ve had long discussions about this. Initially we thought Jerome might be the right person, but, given the circumstances, we have decided to send both you and Jerome for this trip.
It may sound like we’re getting rid of you, but I promise you, these are important conferences, and sending the CEO and COO to represent ipryy will look good; they’ll see how seriously we take the conferences. ”
“You’re coming too?” I turn to look at Jerome, relieved. Jerome being with me makes it seem less like I am being cast out.
“I have been meaning to go to India anyway, and it’s important for someone senior to be at the conferences. You don’t get
much more senior than you.” He smiles, and I feel a little better. Perhaps this isn’t as bad as it feels.
“Who’s running ipryy while we’re gone?” I ask again, turning back to Clara, who looks uncomfortable.
“The shareholders have asked me to step in temporarily. It’s not something I particularly want to do, but it’s only for a
few weeks until you’re back. I’ll fill you in on everything with a daily report while you’re away, so you won’t fall behind.
I promise you I’ll keep you up to speed.”
“If we need you, we can always fly you home. That’s the beauty of private planes,” adds Keith.
“I’m flying private?” I have flown in my father’s jet before, of course, but the thought of taking it without him there feels
strange. I associate luxury travel with my father, not with my life.
“We’ll take very good care of both of you,” continues Keith. “We’ve booked you the very best hotels, and we’re organizing
your meeting schedule now.”
“When do we leave?”
“Sunday morning, if that works.”
Jesus. That’s soon. South of France, Italy, India.
I have no idea how to get my life in order by then, but what do I really have to get in order?
Lucy has Noah to keep her company while I’m gone.
My mom seems to be going from strength to strength with her date, Gary.
My father is in Switzerland, doing great.
The only thing I have to do is pack a wardrobe. Luckily for me, there is nothing that Lucy likes more.
“Sunday morning?” I look to Jerome for confirmation, and he reaches across the table and squeezes my hand reassuringly.
“Sunday morning,” he says, and I nod.
My legs feel like Jell-O when I stand up. I reach out and steady myself on the back of the chair.
“You’re not being dismissed,” Clara says. “This is all to appease the shareholders, and it will blow over. Everything will
work out the way it is supposed to. In the meantime, look at this as the trip of a lifetime! Who knows when you’ll have this
kind of trip again. Jerome’s with you so have fun. India! Enjoy it, Missy. You’re only young once.”