Page 8 of Mismatched

“I told you she was a weak candidate.” Henry glares at me. “That guy who applied was a more solid hire.”

“The guy had tangles in his bichon ears and had to be told what a lamb clip means on a standard poodle,” I push back.

“Okay, but he had a bachelor’s in?—”

“A degree means nothing in grooming, Henry. What matters is how someone handles dogs, their knowledge and experience, and skill. That girl and Scarlet might not look amazing on paper, but they are talented in what they do.”

“Don’t get me started on Scarlet,” he says, face reddening.

“Look, I know she’s a hot mess personally.” I roll my eyes. “But when she has it together, she can scissor and blend like a dog hair Da Vinci.”

Henry exhales. “Look, if we call the guy back, there’s at least a chance we’ll have someone to groom the dogs booked for tomorrow. Otherwise, who else will do it?”

I bite my lip and scowl at him because he’s making a familiar sour-faced expression, and I know he’s trying to force me to say it.

“Fine. I will groom them—but I’m not just going to hire the first dog lover who walks in the door and can hold a brush. We need a stronger candidate. And we need to reward them for their skill. Which means we need something special to attract them.”

Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, I think it’s horrible that Americans have to pay for their healthcare, but the way the businesses are set up right now, we can’t afford employee benefits.”

I look at him completely straight-faced. “Do you know how expensive healthcare gets in this country?”

“Yes, of course?—”

“Then you can agree it isn’t just a competitive business decision. It’s the right thing to do.” I fold my arms over my chest.

He stares at his screen a long time, not looking at me, and for a second my stomach knots over this whole endeavor. If I hadn’t sold half my company, there would be no discussion. I’d be doing things exactly the way I want.

“I will do some more research, but Lydia?” He turns his screen to face me and levels me with a stern gaze. “Ooh La Pooch causes more headaches and doesn’t perform as well as the daycares. If you really want to pursue employee benefits, we need to close it, or at least consolidate.”

I stare at him, open-mouthed. My eyes flicker back to his screen, though I don’t actually need to see. I’ve known for a while the daycares were more profitable than the grooming. I was just trying not to think about how much.

“I’m not eliminating anyone’s jobs,” I finally say, eyes pricking.

Henry gives a stiff nod. “I thought you’d say that. Why don’t you just think about it? We don’t have to address this today. But if we intend to grow, or add benefits, some tough decisions need to be made.”

Suddenly, all I want in the world is to run home to Anton, curl up on the couch enveloped in his arms, and hear him tell me everything’s going to be fine. But then I remember the distance between us this morning, the faraway look in his eyes, and my stomach knots. How can I ask Anton to comfort me when I should be figuring out how to comfort him?

My phone starts vibrating on the table, and my sister Celia’s contact photo—throwing a bouquet in her designer wedding dress—lights up the screen.

“I’m going to take this,” I say brusquely. And it’s officially a cold day in hell if I’m opting for my sister over anything. “I definitely need some time to process.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I’m fifteen minutes late by the time I talk myself into getting out of the car. My head is a total fog. I probably should have stayed home like Lydia suggested. But I’m here now, and somehow even manage to put one foot in front of the other through the parking garage.

I hit the button for the elevator and run my hand over my face. I can’t help feeling like I’ve made a mistake or forgotten something important. I go back over everything I can think of, but I don’t know what it could be. Seth is selling Mom’s house. I’m handling her taxes and the last of her bills. Lydia’s been an amazing support to both of us. I know I haven’t been super talkative this past week, but she has been endlessly patient and understanding.

Maybe I shouldn’t have cancelled our appointment this afternoon. I just felt... weird going to sex therapy the day after my mother’s funeral. At least Lydia didn’t seem to mind. Physical intimacy is a lot of work for her, and she’s got a bunch of other stuff going on. Maybe a break will be good for both of us.

“Anton! So nice to have you back,” Riya says with some surprise from the front desk as I exit the elevator. “I was so sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thanks,” I say. It feels like I ought to add something. A detail for her benefit. But when my mind fails to produce any more words, I keep walking past reception, toward my office.

“They’re in the conference room,” she calls after me with some uncertainty. “Um, Carl thought maybe you weren’t coming, so they got started.”

I pause, trying to decide how I should feel about that. Everything that should be straightforward seems difficult today. “Thanks,” I say again.

I drop my things at my desk and head straight into the meeting. As soon as I walk in, I note with irritation that a fairly new hire, Milo Briggs, is in my usual seat beside Carl. I take one of the open chairs closer to the door, trying not to attract too much attention. A couple people offer me sympathetic smiles. Carl is going over some items about account tracking. He catches my eye and nods. I pick up a pen, hovering it over a legal pad in front of me, but I’m the one who wrote the points he’s going over, so it doesn’t seem like I’ve missed too much.

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