Chapter 4
SADIE
Istepped out of my office, already running late for the quarterly board meeting.
It had been a long morning at the museum, filled with a surprise donor issue and a small crisis with a vintage plane’s loan agreement.
My head buzzed with details, my fingers still ached from a few hours of manual work in the restoration bay, and I hadn’t even stopped to grab a coffee.
I rushed down the hall, slipping through the door into the Holbrook executive wing just in time.
“Sadie!” A sharp voice called out from behind me.
I froze mid-step, recognizing Alyssa’s tone immediately.
She caught up quickly, her heels clicking against the marble floors, her posture as flawless as always, even at this hour.
The moment I turned to face her, I was struck, as always, by the perfect picture she presented, from the immaculate twist of her blonde hair to the sleek red blouse tucked into her high-waisted skirt.
Alyssa always looked as if she were about to step into a magazine photoshoot. It was unnerving.
“You’re cutting it close,” she said with a light, teasing smile, but her eyes gave away the underlying judgment. “Meeting started five minutes ago.”
“Unavoidable delay,” I said shortly, brushing past her toward the conference room. Alyssa fell into step beside me, not taking the hint to leave me alone.
“It’s always something with you, isn’t it?
” She laughed lightly, but her words bit harder than she let on.
“Always so busy with your little projects.” The way she said the word made it sound like she was talking about a hobby, something unimportant, instead of my career and passion.
“You know, I’ve been pulling some late nights, too, helping Patrick with the defense contractors. The hours he’s putting in are insane.”
Her words sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine.
Late nights with Patrick? My stomach twisted slightly, but I refused to show her how much that bothered me.
I kept walking, my eyes trained on the double doors at the end of the hallway.
Alyssa’s voice was just noise now, her casual mention of her closeness with my husband like a background hum, one I’d heard too many times before.
“We’ll be glad when these contracts are wrapped up, I’m sure.
” I opened the door and stepped inside, Alyssa close behind.
The conference room was already filled with the usual crowd, board members typing on their laptops and Patrick seated at the head of the table, already in deep conversation with our CFO.
I slid into the open seat near the end of the table, hoping to stay off of Alyssa’s radar for the rest of the meeting.
Patrick’s eyes flickered in my direction, giving me a quick nod of acknowledgment before returning to his discussion.
He didn’t look concerned that I had come in late, but I still felt the pressure to prove myself in a room full of people who didn’t always value my role as highly as Patrick did.
Alyssa sat next to the board secretary, flashing her signature smile and making herself seem essential even when she didn’t have a speaking part.
The meeting went on as expected, reviewing sales projections, discussing the rollout for the A-40 series, and addressing a few minor setbacks in the supply chain.
I tried to focus, taking notes here and there, though my thoughts were still on the museum.
Today’s board agenda included the grant proposal I had spent weeks preparing, requesting Holbrook Aviation’s financial support for the restoration of the historic Ford Trimotor we’d acquired, a plane that deserved its place in our museum’s upcoming History of Flight exhibit.
I could barely wait to present it, confident in the value and historical importance of the project.
When it finally came time for my proposal, Patrick nodded to me, gesturing for me to take the floor.
I stood, nerves bubbling in my chest as I began.
I kept my voice steady as I outlined the benefits of preserving a piece of aviation history, how the Ford Trimotor could become the crown jewel of the exhibit.
This wasn’t just a nostalgic project for me; it was a symbol of aviation’s evolution and the kind of work that inspired the next generation of engineers.
“This is a significant investment,” I said, my eyes meeting each board member’s in turn.
“But it’s one that will pay dividends, both in cultural value and in inspiring the young minds we want to attract into the industry.
The museum is an extension of what Holbrook stands for: innovation, excellence, and passion for the future of flight. ”
Patrick leaned forward, looking proud. The other board members seemed intrigued, scribbling notes and nodding along, their expressions shifting from polite interest to genuine appreciation as I spoke of the historical significance and potential educational impact of the Ford Trimotor restoration.
For a moment, I felt confident, like my passion had connected with them, the warmth spreading through my chest as I imagined the plane finally restored to its former glory, a bold display of aviation’s pioneering spirit.
But then Alyssa raised her hand, and the shift was immediate, the delicate balance I had established suddenly disrupted by that simple gesture, her crimson nails perfectly manicured as they caught the overhead lights.
“I think we should consider a different angle,” she said, standing smoothly, her voice clear and commanding.
All eyes turned toward her. “I appreciate Sadie’s enthusiasm, but perhaps the museum could be better leveraged through more modern marketing rather than restoration projects.
” Her eyes swept over the table, her demeanor polished, professional, and cold.
“We have data showing that influencer-led campaigns would boost engagement and ticket sales at a fraction of the cost. We could generate buzz by making the museum a ‘cool’ destination, which would pay for itself without tying up resources in lengthy restorations that won’t yield direct profit. ”
My heart sank as I watched her take over the room.
Her words, backed by flashy numbers and a strategic vision, sounded logical to the others, even though they undercut everything I had poured my heart into.
The room filled with murmurs of agreement as Alyssa presented her counterproposal.
She was persuasive, confident, and business-minded.
And just like that, my vision for the museum was reduced to a risk with questionable ROI.
I turned to Patrick, silently pleading with my eyes for him to step in and defend my plan, but he merely looked thoughtful, tapping his fingers against his chin.
It was that same look he gave when he was considering multiple options.
Only, this time, he wasn’t just weighing them; he was already leaning in her direction.
The board took a quick vote after Alyssa wrapped up, and I wasn’t surprised when my proposal failed to pass.
They favored her PR-heavy plan, citing cost-efficiency and a “clearer return on investment.” I felt my hands tighten into fists under the table, a lump forming in my throat as the disappointment settled deep inside my chest. This wasn’t just about a grant; this was about the future of the museum, about honoring the legacy of the aviation pioneers I had spent so many years admiring.
And once again, I had been silenced, my passion brushed aside in favor of numbers and corporate speak.
As the meeting adjourned, I stood to leave, my head heavy with the weight of my defeat. Patrick stopped me just outside the room, his hand gently resting on my arm. “Sadie, don’t be too hard on yourself. Alyssa’s plan made sense, but your ideas are still solid. Maybe next quarter.”
I shook my head, frustrated that he didn’t seem to grasp how important this was. “This wasn’t just about numbers, Patrick. This was about preserving history.”
“I get that,” he said softly, pulling me into a hug. “But we can’t fund everything at once. You’ll find another way. The Ford Trimotor will still be there, waiting.”
I sighed against his chest, the fine wool of his suit pressing against my cheek, the scent of his familiar cologne doing nothing to soothe the ache spreading through me.
I tried not to let the bitterness show, but my body had betrayed me again, tensing despite his embrace.
The Trimotor would still be there, but without the proper funds, its restoration would take years, if it happened at all.
It wasn’t just a project for me. It was a dream.
Patrick released me and gave me a reassuring smile, but it did little to ease the sting of Alyssa’s victory.
She passed by us then, pausing just long enough to offer me a condescending smile.
“Sorry, Sadie,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.
“But sometimes we have to think about what’s best for the company. No hard feelings.”
I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to say what I really thought.
She knew exactly what she was doing, and it wasn’t about what was “best for the company.” It was about control, and she had just proved once again how easily she could take it from me.
Without another word, she continued down the hallway, leaving me standing there, fuming silently as Patrick rubbed my back.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “We can fund the restoration out of our pocket if we need to. It’s not a lost cause, sweetheart.”
I forced a smile, nodding though the hollow feeling inside me didn’t fade.
Patrick meant well, but it was never about just money.
It was about respect, about having a voice in the world he and I shared.
And with Alyssa always hovering nearby, ready to pounce on every opportunity to undermine me, I wasn’t sure I’d ever find it.