Page 20 of Dropping the Ball

I mean to say that I’m not doing the best job of managing Micah or the facilities part of the project, mainly because he is so on top of it. He’s been updating me via email for the last three weeks since the tour, ending each short email by letting me know construction will start as planned at the beginning of October.

That’s next week. We’re scheduled to meet at the warehouse, something that will happen at least weekly because laying out the event space will be a collaborative process.

I stand, still restless and needing to move. It’s probably because Madison is due any day now, and it feels like everyonewho knows her has been holding their collective breath, jumping every time our phones buzz.

I walk out to our small reception area. “Suz, I’m going to take a short walk. I need a brain break. Back in fifteen.”

“It’s nice out. Maybe I’ll take a turn when you come back.”

“I’m making it an official order. You’re going for a walk when I get back.”

She smiles and waves me off.

Our small suite of offices is on the ground floor of Armstrong headquarters, a six-story building in North Austin. It’s part of Dad’s restitution efforts. The company has already paid the settlement the courts ordered, but he’s been trying to show Madison especially that he’s willing to do more. That includes subsidizing Threadwork’s office space.

Of course, this, like all of Dad’s generosity to Threadwork, helps rehabilitate the Armstrong corporate image. Housing the nonprofit that works on making restitution to the victims of his corporate negligence?How big of him, he wants people to say.He’s changing.

He is. Slowly. Even if there’s a PR upside to his support of Threadwork, it’s still a big concession for Gordon Armstrong. We try to meet him where he’s at. It’s been easier for me since I can read him like a book, given that we function the same way. He’s the genetic culprit behind my perfectionism. But even Madi has softened since seeing his genuine pleasure at the imminent arrival of his first grandchild.

I walk out to the corporate reception area, a grand glass-and-marble lobby, wave to security at the desk, and exit into the parking lot. The weather has started cooling, the midseventies temperature perfect for a brisk walk. It will continue to cool over the next month until I’ll need a light coat by early November.

Armstrong Industries is housed in an unobjectionable business park with bland landscaping, but there are enoughislands of grass and flowerbeds between the office buildings to make it a pleasant walk. As usual, I start by thinking through the tasks ahead for the day or week, which leads me to my meeting with Micah, which sends me straight into mulling over Madison’s unlicensed therapy. After almost a month to think about it, I’ve reached some conclusions.

In hindsight, I can see my intense perfectionism would have made me furious at anyone who swept in to take valedictorian at the last minute. I’d been so determined that despite the periodic media reports on the Armstrong Industries scandal, despite the constant speculation among the wealthy families who sent their kids to Hillview, being an Armstrong still stood for excellence and hard work. Being second best didn’t feel like it made the same point, not to me or my parents.

To be beaten by Micah specifically . . . Madison nailed why it stung more. I never showed anyone vulnerability, not even my friends. We might joke and laugh, but I didn’t let them in. So when Micah had caught me gawping at his bare chest, he’d seen the truth: I was into him enough to break my face and tank my shot at valedictorian. That had made me very vulnerable to him. We might have grown friendly through our senior year, but what would Too Cool Micah Croft say to the mousy nerd who suddenly revealed heart eyes for him when he’d only noticed her because of her brain?

It had been safer to be angry. Chilly, blaming him for overruling me and getting my mother involved, giving him an unfair advantage.

What does holding on to that eight years later say about me? At best, it says I hold petty grudges.

Not this one. Not anymore. I’ve let it go. And rather than deal with stressing and overthinking our meeting next week, maybe I’ll go the Band-Aid route and see if Micah is available sooner.Tomorrow. This afternoon, even. There’s a loosening in my chest, the stress I always carry there shrinking at this plan.

I open my email on my phone and dictate a short message.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Meeting availability?

Hi, Micah.

I appreciate the updates you’ve been sending. I know we’re scheduled for an onsite meeting next week, but I have some time this afternoon. Would you be available to swing by my office to discuss how the construction phase will go? I’d like to know how to best support your team.

Kind regards,

Kaitlyn Armstrong

Interim Director, Threadwork

I read it over and frown at the automatic signature. Kind regards? Stuffy. But also unobjectionable in ninety-nine percent of business communications. It’ll do. I hit send and turn back toward the office.

He answers me as I’m walking into the Threadwork suite, confirming he can make it this afternoon.

Good job, Katie. I can always be counted on to do the responsible thing, but this is leadership. Bonafide interim director leadership.

“Tag, you’re it,” I tell Suz as I pass her. “Go get that fresh air.”

---