Page 32 of Peppermint Bark

“Those scavengers at the studio would have my head if I took more.”

“You’re the boss, take what you want.”

“That’s not the kind of leader I want to be. I don’t want to exploit Grace.” She unscrupulously licked her fingertips and pressed them on the plate to pick up candy cane dust. I was grossed out … and also jealous. A small morsel flew out of her mouth onto the desk. “She’s basically my work wife.”

“Work wife?” I flicked the piece off.

“My favorite coworker, I can’t imagine the place without her. I mean, she’d be a great real wife, too. If I were into girls, I would marry Grace in a heartbeat and pump out, like, a million of her babies. Speaking of the studio … ”

Dammit, the chocolate had been a delicious candy-coated bribe.

What could she want from me at her yoga studio? She probably needed a loan. Or she was too short to change the light bulbs.

“I’m here to rescue you."

“From what?”

“From the oppression of the late capitalist notion that your self-worth is tied to your billable hours.”

“Spoken like a hippie without a real job,” I muttered, brushing the remaining crumbs into the trash can and re-opening the laptop.

She pushed it closed. “You’re on family medical leave, so legally, you don’t have to do anything.” She winked. “My lawyer told me that.”

“But my team in San Francisco —”

“— can wait. You’ve been home for over a week and I’ve barely seen you. And it’s Thirsty Thursday!” I made a ‘get to the point’ gesture. “Luckily for you, your sister has a yoga studio where you can unwind before Happy Hour at the brewpub. I’ll throw in your first class for free …”

“I don’t have workout clothes.”

She pointed to a gym bag.I re-opened the laptop.

Her voice got dangerously quiet. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because they need —”

“But what do you need? When was the last time you were happy?”

I paused, trying to conjure a satisfying answer and coming up short. She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward fiercely. “Don’t tell me you enjoy working sixteen-hour days. You came home to help Dad, but Mom says you never stop working. It’s unhealthy.”

“It’s necessary,” I stood to my full height, towering almost a foot above her. The brazen little brat held my gaze. “You don’t understand because your job is to help people stretch, but I have real work. The merger deadline is in eight days. If I fuck it up, I don’t make partner.”

Dad hustled for years to make partner in his firm — this firm where we were standing right now, that provided everything that my spoiled little sister wanted. This was the sacrifice required to be successful.

My snotty little sister stuck out her chin. “So you can make more money to spend on your fancy condo where you never spend any time, and your Mercedes that you only drive to and from work? So you can become yet another interchangeable straight white man joining the patriarchal lineage of straight white men?”

“I don’t have time for a lecture about the patriarchy.”

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” she strode around the desk to push her finger into my chest. “You’re working so damn hard to make a name for yourself, but you’re not living.”

“After I make partner —”

“— you’ll change the goalpost and keep running full speed until it kills you.” Her bottom lip trembled, but she sucked it in with a quick breath and barreled on. “It scares the shit out of me, Alex, because last week, I watched Dad die."

The gravity of her statement fell as palpable as a gauntlet thrown, and silence suspended between us. Every heartbeat thundered in my ears, matching the pulse in her neck. Her pained gaze was a challenge, daring me to defend myself against her witnessing our father’s near-death experience.

She tightened her ponytail and took a breath to compose herself until her voice was more restrained but still emotional.

“Grace and I were there, Alex. He stopped breathing. The chest compressions, the CPR, they …” Her voice was clipped. “Once the doctors shocked him, he regained consciousness. I chased the gurney. I could tell in his eyes that he thought it was the end.”

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