Page 23 of By the Letter

“You’re right, Annabelle. I messed up. When I started here, my game plan was to consult the people who’d been here during GoldMed’s most profitable years to find out where things had turned south. The consensus was that things had changed when Frank married Shira, and the decline had continued steadily over the last five years. But I should have been talking to newer employees too. That had been a grave oversight. Since we’re being blunt with each other, can I ask you a few questions now?”

She did the Shira chin raise, and for a moment, I thought she’d turn me down, but then she nodded. “All right.”

I had a hundred questions but went with the thing that had been bothering me the most since I’d first walked through the offices.

“Why is it so damn quiet?”

“That’s simple.” She flicked her long, manicured nails. “Frank began having chronic migraines triggered by sound. He didn’t want anyone to know, so Shira asked me to instill a rule several years ago that all employees had to use headphones to listen to music. Meetings—even small ones—were to be held in conference rooms, and everyone was given new, silent keyboards. She also had panels installed on the walls that soak up sound, and she did all this under the radar to help Frank.”

I narrowed my eyes at her pretty story. “It’s like a graveyard out there.”

She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “What a biased point of view, Mr. Wells. I’ve had multiple employees email me to thank me for the changes. Those are documented, and I will send them to you if you need to see them. So, while you might see a graveyard, many find the quiet peaceful, and it has upped their productivity.”

“Okay. I’ll give you that I was biased, and I would love for you to forward those emails to me.” I flattened my palms on my desk. “What has made you so loyal to Shira? I ask this because all my encounters with her have been extremely icy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? You admit to being biased and came to GoldMed with an agenda—which was to get rid of her. Your dislike of her has been clear from the jump. If a warm reception is what you expected, I’m honestly shocked you’ve gotten as far as you have in business without the ability to read people.”

“What do you mean, Ms. Ortiz?”

“I mean, Shira isn’t icy. Even a moron can see she’s just shy.” Annabelle puffed out her cheeks, expelling a heavy breath. “Honestly, I don’t have time to sit here and answer your silly questions. If you’d like to email me, I’ll respond when I have a moment to spare.”

And once again, another woman marched out of my office, leaving me speechless.

Shy?

Was I a moron?

No. Shira might have been shy, but that didn’t change other things I knew about her. It didn’t negate the damage that had been done to GoldMed since she’d taken over. Though I could admit I should have gone about it differently, getting rid of herhad been the right thing. I wasn’t proud of that board meeting yesterday, but there was nothing I could do to take it back.

I pulled up the first letter Frank had sent me after my father had died. I’d been twenty-two, bitter with grief, filled with self-doubt, and had written to my dad’s friend to let him know he was gone. I hadn’t expected a reply, but a few days later, he’d written back, and his words had pulled me through.

Roman,

I’m sorry to hear about my old friend, Marcus, passing away. He was a fine man who will be sorely missed by all who knew him. We haven’t seen each other in some time, but we’ve exchanged emails in recent years, and his were always brimming with pride for his boys. You, Ben, Nathaniel, and Adrian were the most important things to him. I hope you know that.

I understand you might be feeling lost right now. Things that were once vital don’t seem as important, like finishing your degree when you could go pro with rugby and leave everything behind. If you want to drop out of school to give yourself distance from your loss, take it from someone who knows, there’s nowhere you can run that it won’t follow. However, if rugby is your passion and you’re just treading water in school, go for it. A degree isn’t the be-all and end-all.

Know that whatever you decide, your father would be proud. He always told me, of all his sons, you were the one he worried about least. He knew you had a solid head on your shoulders and great instincts. Follow them, Roman.

The decision you make will be the right one. If it’s not, there’s no rule that says you can’t admit your mistake and start over. You can walk a hundred paths in your lifetime. You aren’t obligated to stay on one all the way to your grave.

Be brave.

Frank Goldman

His letter hadn’t been anything groundbreaking, but it had been a lighthouse when I’d been lost in a sea of anger. His advice had led me to playing professional rugby, which turned out to be some of the best years of my life. And when I became too injured to continue playing, with his words ringing in my head, I got up and started down a new path, which was to save GoldMed.

However, the three letters of resignation on my desk told me I’d screwed up. I’d begun in the wrong direction, too myopic to see the big picture, but that didn’t mean I had to keep going that way.

Tomorrow, I’d start over on a new path—one that included speaking with every single employee.

Chapter Ten

Roman

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