Chapter 19
I am so behind on scanning and digitally filing the shipping forms. They’ve piled up to the point that now I have two or three mindless hours of work ahead.
I usually try to stay on top of them to avoid this exact situation. However, this week has been… different.
Very different.
I have ignored this growing pile of forms because of my other duties.
I shuffle the papers and try desperately not to think about those other duties. I was supposed to take Brock’s calls this week, not fall in love with him.
I grimace, and think about what I just witnessed, up on the fourth floor, a couple hours ago: Vanessa, cozied up to Brock in his office doorway.
When the executive assistant phone rings, I sigh and set the shipping forms aside. Kate’s name is on the screen.
“Hey, Kate.”
“G-G-Gwen?” A very wet-sounding sniffle travels through the phone. “Is my brother around?”
“Hm. Good question.” I fight off a memory of Brock and Vanessa in the doorway. “I believe he’s in an important meeting. At least, his calendar’s blocked off from nine this morning until noon, and it’s marked non-negotiable, do not disturb.”
I know how important his meetings with his design team are. I know all about the deadline he’s under for the spring designs.
And yet…
He took time out of that ‘important’ meeting to see Vanessa.
What is going on between them?
Nothing.
Probably nothing.
I know how persistent she is, and how interested in Brock she is, despite his rebuttals. She probably showed up unannounced, and he had to deal with it.
That makes sense.
And yet, some primal part of my brain doesn’t care about common sense. That primal part of me is still reeling at the sight of him so close to her.
I tear myself out of my fears and doubts and instead focus on Kate, who is clearly upset. “What’s going on? I can give him a message or go up and see if he’ll pause his meeting to talk. You okay?”
“I’m definitely not okay,” she gushes in one big exhale. “Oh, Gwen… not at all.”
“I’ll go up and interrupt his meeting.”
“No—no, don’t do that. He’d hate that. You know how he is. He must be driving you nuts about now with his fussy ways. Honestly, I can’t believe you’re still fielding calls for him. You’re probably on the brink of quitting, like Mandy.”
“I only have to make it another couple days before the replacement is hired on.”
It’s a testament to my distracted state, me saying this to her. She’s Brock’s sister, and here I am complaining about the work.
Also, saying the end date for my extra duties aloud feels weird.
On Monday, someone else will be intertwined in Brock’s day-to-day affairs. Someone new will carry this pink sparkly phone.
Last night, Brock said he finds me intoxicating.
I took that, and other things he said, to mean he wants a relationship with me.
Is that what he meant?
Right now, I can’t even remember the details of what we said to each other. It’s all fading, morphing, getting distorted in my head.
But I can’t dwell on the status of things with Brock right now. Kate is really struggling. “Hey, you sound upset. You want to talk about it?”
The honking sound lets me know she’s blowing her nose.
I hear a few more sniffles, then a big sigh. “Oh, wow. Where to start. You sure you have time for this? I bet my brother has you running around, doing all the tasks he doesn’t want to do.”
“Of course I have time. You’re important, and you’re upset. Talk to me, Kate.” I set the shipping forms aside. They can wait.
“Well, his boat got in. Sawyer’s. Early this morning. And I was right there, like I was some freaking seafarer’s wife in an old story, skirts blowing in the wind, hand to my brow, braving the bitter cold because I couldn’t wait to see him land. We went to this little diner.”
“That sounds cozy.”
“It wasn’t. It was old and dirty and smelled like sardines. And—and—” She sniffs loudly. “I told him everything… that I l-l-looooved him.” Honk. “And he stared at me like I was an alien space creature! And when the waitress finally came over to serve us this awful lukewarm coffee, he ordered French toast and an extra side of bacon…”
“Wait, you told him you loved him, and he ordered breakfast?”
“Yes! He ignored me. Stared at his menu. Acted like the most important decision in the world that he had to make was how he wanted his side of eggs. He went with sunny side up, by the way.”
“Oh, honey…”
“He acted like I was speaking a different language, Gwen!”
“Did you tell him about the baby?”
“Well, the waitress left, and I was like, ya know— ‘Say something, already!’ And he said… Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I came all the way up here in Anchorage. What was I thinking? I am an idiot.”
“You wanted to see him face to face. That’s understandable. This is big stuff, Kate.”
I feel so bad for her right now.
My heart aches as I listen to her sob for a minute. I’m not sure if I’m only feeling sorry for her or if some self-pity is mingling in.
That was some outfit Vanessa had on. She sure looked awfully close with Brock.
Kate finally catches her breath.
“Yeah, well, so much for that. I wish I’d stayed home. And now, I’ve got work all mad at me for calling out all week. I might not even have a job when I get home.”
“Oh, Kate… I am so sorry this is happening.”
“I told him I was pregnant. You want to know what that got me?”
I swallow, dreading her answer.
As I expected, she goes on in a rush. “That got me another long, quiet stare. He raised his hand up, one finger to the ceiling, to call the waitress over. She got there and—you want to know what he said? You’re not gonna believe this, Gwen—he asked for more cream, for his coffee.”
“And that was it? After you told him you’re carrying his baby?”
“That was it. I couldn’t handle it. I got up and stormed out. Knocked over a chair on my way out, too. It was by accident. You can bet heads turned. All those grimy fishermen got a good laugh, I bet, once I was gone. And now… now I’m here in this cold, dank hotel room in freaking Alaska, and it’s snowing outside, and—and I’m all alone, Gwen. I’m all alone in the world, and I hate Sawyer.”
“You don’t hate him.”
“Right now, I do. I really do.”
“Everyone processes in their own way. Maybe he just needs more time to?—”
“I told him I loved him, and he ordered freaking French toast!”
“I know… I know. That really stinks. Honestly, that does.”
The sight of Lizzy walking my way makes it difficult to come up with any other words of consolation for Kate.
Lizzy looks… terrible.
Pale.
Shaky.
I utter a few more sympathetic statements to Kate and then manage to get off the line. And all the while, I’m watching Lizzy, who is walking through Shipping at a very slow pace.
“Do you have food poisoning or something? You’re not looking too hot, sister,” I say when she comes to a woozy halt at my desk.
She pins her fingertips to my desk, bracing herself. “I wish I had food poisoning. That’d be a treat compared to what is actually happening.”
“Oh, no. Did someone die?”
She pinches her lips and shakes her head. Her curls swish. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
I want to stand up and give her a hug, but something about the way she’s looking at me like I’m the one who’s dying makes me remain seated. My limbs feel suddenly heavy.
“Okay… you’re acting super weird. Seriously. What’s going on?” I whisper.
“Gwen, you are going to hate me forever.”
“No way.”
“Yes, you will. Never mind happy hour at my place this Friday. The only reason you’d swing by is to put a bag of flaming dog poop on my front stoop. Toilet paper my trees. Smash my mailbox.”
“I would never do any of those things.”
“I know you wouldn’t, but I wish you would. You should. I can’t believe how badly I messed up. I hope you have a baseball bat because I deserve a smashed mailbox and much, much worse…”
Her face crumples, and tears well up on her lower lids. When they start to spill out, I hand her a tissue box.
She places a trembling hand over her lips and refuses to take a tissue. “He asked me to fire you, Gwen. A few minutes ago. I am so, so, so sorry.”
I’m too stunned to react. All I can feel is a breathless, strangled sensation in my throat. It tightens, and a lump forms.
“You see?” she whispers, as choked up as I am. “Smash my mailbox. Please. I screwed up. I thought I was doing the right thing, messing with the situation. But it was so wrong of me. I’m supposed to be your resource, and I cost you your job.”
I can’t breathe.
I have to breathe, but it’s like my chest is too tight to let in the air. “I asked you to take off your HR hat,” I hear myself say. It’s like listening to someone else speak from miles away.
I am floating outside of my body.
Brock is firing me.
No.
This can’t be happening…
Can it?
She shakes her head. More tears spill down her cheeks, tinted ash black by her mascara. “No. Please, Gwen, don’t try to take the blame for this. Honesty, I interfered. It was unprofessional.”
Lizzy has no idea just how unprofessional I’ve been this week. My stomach twists and drops.
I kissed him in the break room. In his office. He spent the night at my house…
And now… he’s canning me?
I lower my head into my hands and moan.
The image of Vanessa and Brock in his office doorway fills my head like some angry storm cloud. She was so sleek, so put-together. So beautiful. Her hair, perfect. High heels, model-like body, sculpted and curvy in only the right places.
So different from frumpy me.
He stooped to my level for fun and games, and now he’s back to the caliber of woman he belongs with.
Wealthy, worldly, sleek and shiny women. Not me.
Why did I ever think he’d pick me?
I was kidding myself. Lost in some delusional daydream. I know all about Brock’s ways with women, and yet I thought all the suave, seductive things he said to me were genuine.
I bought his act.
I can see that now.
What I can’t see—can’t wrap my head around—is why on earth he thinks it is okay to fire me like this.
Stop flirting with me, sure.
Stop kissing me? Of course… If it cooled off, I’d be hurt, but I’d survive.
My job is my lifeline. I buy food with my paycheck, for goodness’ sake.
Right now, with my palms planted over my eyes, I can’t raise my head. I can’t look at Lizzy.
I don’t want to be mad at her, and yet, a little voice in my head is starting to whisper resentful thoughts.
‘This is your fault,’ I want to say to her. ‘If you’d hired an assistant right away, this wouldn’t be happening.’
But I can’t say those things.
Above all else, she is my friend. I know she was trying to help me.
Her voice quakes. “Gwen, what can I do? I will quit. We’ll hire a lawyer. We’ll take him to court for whatever he’s up to.”
“Did he say why?” I lift my head.
“He said—” She grabs a tissue, and wipes her eyes. “He said it’s confidential at this point. He’s been talking to his lawyer in Manhattan; that’s all I know.”
“I don’t want to go to court.”
“But this is unfair treatment. You do your job well. He has no legitimate reason to terminate you. If this is about you guys hooking up, it’s illegal for him to fire you.”
It’s too late for her to talk about fair employment laws.
Brock and I crossed lines, and that was just as much my fault as it was his. I wanted him. I fell for his lines, his moves, his big, romantic gestures.
I sweep my gaze over my desk, taking inventory of all that I’ll have to pack up.
I need to get out of here. The walls are closing in with me. I need fresh air.
I need to think.
“Are you sure?” she says. “I have a cousin who’s in law school, and I could call her up and get some advice. I am putting in my notice today. I can’t believe he’s doing this.”
“Please don’t put in your notice. One of us losing our jobs today is enough.”
With a cringe, I think of Kate, up in Alaska. She may be unemployed soon, too—because of me. Because of my advice.
It’s like I’ve had blinders on. I thought love was real, and that Kate could have it. That I could have it. I thought love was more important than everything else… the bottom line. And now reality is giving me a cold, hard slap in the face.
As Lizzy launches into a speech about ethics, I tune her out and start collapsing the picture frames propped up across my desk.
I stack them up on one side of the desk, then rummage in a bottom drawer for a bag. A cardboard box off to one side near a shelf catches my eye.
And now, I am the stereotypical fired office worker—stacking her belongings into a sad box. I cradle it in my arms like a baby and fight off tears, all while Lizzy goes on and on.
She says she won’t stand by and watch this happen.
She’ll fight with me.
She can’t believe Brock’s nerve. She blames herself for thinking he was such a good guy.
She wonders how she misread the situation so badly.
Yeah, I think, as she utters that last bit. I’m wondering how I misread the situation so badly, too.
When the executive assistant cell rings and displays the accountant’s name, I crouch down and use my elbow to slide the device off the edge of my desk. It tumbles and lands in the empty waste bin with a hollow-sounding thud.
And keeps ringing.
I repeat the motion and scoot the tablet off the edge of the desk, too. It lands with a clattering sound on top of the cell.
Thankfully, the ringing stops. But a second later, a new sound trills through the air.
My personal cell phone is tinkling out a tune.
I feel nauseated. If I stop moving and really think about what’s happening, I might drop down to the floor, curl into a fetal position, and bawl.
I refuse to do that.
Thanks to Janelle and her gossip, rumors are already swirling around this department about the locked break room door. My sudden departure today will be followed by whispers about me and Brock.
Who knows… someone may have even seen his car out in front of my house early this morning. My coworkers might trade gossip about how he spent the night at my house.
This town is big, but not that big. Word travels.
I’d like to leave with some little shred of dignity in place, and curling up and crying like a baby—like I’m on the brink of doing—really won’t help me on that front.
I have to stay busy so I don’t start crying.
Since my phone is ringing, I tap the screen to accept the call. “One sec,” I say to Lizzy as I lift it to my ear.
“Hello, Gwen Temple here.”
“Gwen. Great, glad to catch you. This is Danielle, up at the Isabella Heins Castle, calling to confirm your reservation for this Friday evening. We like to reach out to all of our incoming guests to give some details about the amenities, just so you can better plan for your stay with us. Check-in time is four o’clock, but you’re welcome to arrive earlier and tour the grounds. Have you ever visited the castle?”
I furrow my brow. “Sorry. I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I don’t have a reservation.”
“Oh… really?” A faint clicking sound drifts over the line. “Let me back out of this reservation and make sure I have my names correct. Gwen… Temple, T-E-M-P-L-E?”
“That’s me. But I didn’t book a room.” Because I can’t afford it.
“Hm. Well, someone did book you a room. I see your name and even your cell phone number right here. You have the Queen’s Room this Friday into Saturday morning. Check-out is eleven, by the way. Your stay will come with a complimentary breakfast, served by room service, but if you’d like, you can opt out and dine in the Ceremonial Room instead. There will be brunch there, served from ten to noon, and then the usual tea service options throughout the afternoon. The reservation includes?—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. I can’t process all she’s saying because my mind’s still stuck on what the heck is going on. “Did my mother, Allegra, set this up by any chance?”
“I don’t know,” Danielle murmurs. “Let me back out again to check on the billing information we have here… hm… give me a minute…”
I stare down at my sad-looking belongings and wait.
My mother and Clay both know about my grandmother’s dying wish for me. But this doesn’t feel like how she would go about making a reservation for me. Instead, she would have told me about her idea in advance to make sure it sounded good to me. And I’m sure Clay doesn’t have the funds.
Who else knows?
I swivel to check on Lizzy. I’m pretty sure I gabbed to her about my grandmother’s dying wish at some point. Did she do this because she feels so bad about my situation?
Lizzy looks absolutely clueless as she pats at her streaky mascara.
She didn’t do this.
On the other end of the line, Danielleclears her throat. “Are you still there?”
“Still here.”
“So, I have the payment information here. It looks like we took the reservation yesterday afternoon, and it was paid by Brock Benson.”
I suck in air. My nostrils flare. “He paid for the reservation?”
I am an idiot,I think, as Danielle confirms.
He always does this kind of thing for women. I’ve read about these big, grand gestures: vacations to Hawaii, extravagant ski trips, gourmet meals at fancy restaurants. I’ve seen photos of him with the women on the receiving ends of his flashy gift-giving, too. They always look quite pleased with themselves, cozied up at his side.
And now I’m one of them.
I let him woo me with grand gestures and gifts. He paid to have my car fixed, he put in the kitchen floors, he bought me this castle stay.
Was it supposed to impress me?
Last night, I told him I didn’t need to be rescued. I meant that. And yet, he tried to act like my Prince Charming anyway… while it suited him.
Now that he’s done with the games, I’m yesterday’s news.
No, thank you.
I will not let him treat me like this.
“Please refund him,” I say, though it’s hard to get words out, given I’m still choking back tears. “Every cent.”
“Are you sure? We’re completely booked up through the end of the month, so you are very lucky to have this reservation. They went quickly, as you can imagine, with the news of our upcoming closure. And a stay in the Queen’s Room is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I assure you.”
I tug a strand of hair. “Yikes. Shoot.” Her words are hitting home, but I’m not sure what to do about it. “Okay, give me a minute to think, if you don’t mind.”
Internally, I run some numbers. Then, I hold the phone away.
“Lizzy, am I going to get a paycheck this week?”
“Of course.” She nods. “I am so sorry. I should have told you right away. You’ll get that increased hourly you negotiated for, and Brock said to tack three thousand on. Plus, you’ll get paid out for any sick time you haven’t used and vacation time, too.”
The three grand will cover what I owe to the roofer. The rest will be gone in the blink of an eye, too, given all I owe on my credit card and the loan I took out.
It would not be practical to spend money on an overnight stay in a castle.
Not practical at all.
But my grandmother was a wise woman. She knew better than anyone I’ve ever met that practicality is not always the answer. She didn’t buy winter boots and a jacket or fix her car like her pop wanted. She got herself a room in the castle.
Am I really going to do this?
It would be silly.
Frivolous.
Impractical.
I am, as of right now, unemployed. Every penny counts.
I have lost everything. My job. Hopes of love. My dignity, my pride, my self-respect.
When I glance down at the cardboard box propped on the desk, I see her. Grandma Regina beams up at me. In the photo, she’s a young mother with her three little girls all around her.
She looks like a Queen: regal, confident, ready to don a crown.
Can I have that?
Can I feel worthy of the good things in life?
Right now, it doesn’t feel like my life will ever, ever be happy again. And yet, my grandmother’s smiling face, rendered in black-and-white, seems to give me a message: Go for it. Follow your heart.
And so, despite all my doubts, I follow the inkling. “Could I borrow eight hundred bucks just until Friday when I get paid?” I ask Lizzy.
“Are you kidding me? I’ll give you my house if you want it. My car.”
I give her a half smile. “The loan is enough.”
“You got it, sister.”
When I lift the phone to my ear, more doubts weigh my shoulders. This feels foolish, and I’ve already done so many foolish things this week.
I keep my eyes on the photograph of my grandmother for courage. “Danielle? I do want you to refund Brock. Every penny, please. But I’d like to keep the reservation if that’s okay. I’ll pay for it myself. I can come up to the front desk in a few hours to settle the bill.”
Now that I’m unemployed, the day stretches before me.
“That works,” Danielle says. “I’ll make a note here in your reservation, and we’ll see you soon.”
I hang up and add my phone to the already stuffed box.
My grandmother said her stay in the Queen’s Room changed her life for the better.
Maybe the overnight will do the same for me. I sure could use a change for the better about now. I messed up with Brock, and now I’m paying for it—big time.