Page 6 of Meeting Up with the Consultant

“How so?” I look at the painting, but the cool tones and beautiful lines just bring me comfort.

“Well, the bear is all alone in that desolate, frigid terrain.” He crosses his arms and shrugs, obviously uncomfortable with the discussion. “He looks miserable. Lonely.” The last is said in such a soft whisper I almost don’t hear it.

I tilt my head, trying to see what he sees. In another time, when the ache for friendship had consumed me, I might have seen the same thing. Now that I’m past high school and have found my own way, I only see strength and courage, the tenacity to rise above circumstance and persevere.

It’s funny how two people can look at the same painting and come away with different emotions. I peek at Harding, my brain slowing at his rigid stance and tight jaw. Why is it he sees loneliness where I see resilience?

I touch his arm, and he flinches. Smiling like I didn’t notice, I tip my head toward the eating area.

“There are some pretty wild ones over by the buffet.” I step back, needing distance. Space to think. “And coffee. I’m definitely going to chug about a gallon.”

His arms drop, and he rolls his shoulders. “Yeah. I could use some coffee, too.”

I turn and lead the way to the buffet, trying to shuffle the information I’d just been dealt into something I can make line up. Harding travels around the world helping others, meeting new people at each location. It seems like an amazing gig, swooping in like the hero and transforming businesses.

I grab a cup and fill it as close to the brim as I can without spilling. Of course, not everyone will view him as a hero. I certainly hadn’t, not after he’d picked apart the hard work I had done to get the website perfect. I doubt all the businesses he consults are in the same position as Ascent either. For those that are tanking instead of flourishing, it has to be hard to go in knowing he is about to crush a lot of people with his recommendations. Maybe more often than not, he is the villain of the story rather than the hero.

Not that he’s evil.

Far from it.

But I’d certainly considered him an enemy less than five minutes ago as I prepared to see him. I can’t let that continue. While I might not agree with all his thoughts, I won’t allow myself to take it personally anymore.

“After we eat, I’ll show you around.” I set my cup on a table close to the bright paintings in a wide variety of styles, then go to the buffet.

He follows in silence, and I can practically feel a cloak of melancholy dragging him down, reaching its frayed fabric to drop over me as well. It breaks my heart and has me pulling my shoulders back in defiance. There has to be something I can say or do to whip it away and shove it in the trash where it belongs. I know what could lighten the mood, something we’d somehow avoided talking about the day before. Something I swore I’d never bring up willingly to anyone again. I inwardly groan and stab a sausage.

“It’s gonna be weird being home after staying at my sister’s the last two weeks.” I scoop some potatoes and peek at him.

“Yeah?” He just looks pathetic, all despondent and droopy, like a lost puppy missing its family.

“I had to constantly be on guard, otherwise Travis got the better of me.”

His hand freezes with a spoonful of eggs poised over his plate. Lip twitching up on one side, he meets my gaze. Yes, there is that sparkle.

“You wouldn’t believe the stories I could tell you.” I grab a muffin, shaking my head, then head for our table.

He comes up beside me. “Couldn’t be worse than the meeting.”

I stop and lift my eyebrow.

“It is?” He chokes out a laugh and sits down, pressing his lips tight together and staring at his plate.

When I sit next to him, he meets my gaze and bursts out laughing. The sound shatters the last of the humdrum, and I chuckle despite trying to act upset. He wipes the tears from under his eyes and grabs his fork.

“Man, that was just about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” He glances at me while he scoops up some eggs. “Sorry.”

I sigh. There is no way I’ll ever live it down, so I might as well embrace it.

“Have you seen how many views the video has?” He shakes his head in amazement.

“Yeah. I’m not too happy with whoever posted that.” I grumble and take a swig of my coffee, pretty sure I have Emmy to thank for that.

“So, what else happened at your sister’s?” Harding has the look of a kid at the candy store, and I don’t blame him.

I spend the next twenty minutes telling all the crazy things Travis did while I’d visited. We finished eating and are walking outside so I can show him the golf course and ducks. I just wrap up the story of Travis taking scissors to all of Rachel’s bras so he could make eye patches for his stuffed animals when Harding stops and watches the Chena River flow by.

He shoves his hands in his front pockets, and his shoulders relax. I mirror his position, a satisfied smile on my lips. I love making others happy. It is the reason I got into marketing.

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