Page 71 of Almost True
Instead, here we were. Stuck. What a miserably familiar place to be.
There were things in my life that made me feel less stuck in place, though. And despite the bad news of Rich blowing out of here like his tail was on fire and my clearly ruining Sandra’s day with this pointless meeting, though she tried to hide it with kindness, I had Maddie.
I couldn’t stop the grin that overtook my face even as I sharply elbowed all thoughts of her imminent departure from my mind. We’d started yesterday in a kind of rough place, really, and mostly because of me. But in the end, she’d forgiven me and I her, and we’d moved forward together. A team. And it’d felt so good.
I mean, waking up in her bed was definitely a far better starting place for a day. So right, in fact, it was silly.
In order to enjoy the weekend, I planned to face Rich and finally force myself to tell him the truth. He needed to know where I stood, and then I’d know, too. Maybe I was crazy for thinking that was the hold-up—maybe he had some other reason he didn’t want to sell. It seemed so stupid for one simple conversation to be the holdup on all of this, but I was old enough to know darn well discussing the sale of a man’s legacy as his dead daughter’s husband wasn’t exactly a simple conversation.
I knocked on their front door just as I heard their RV’s engine start up. They both waved from the giant front window, so I went to talk to them there.
“I need to speak with you sometime soon,” I said, no preamble because they were clearly eager to leave.
“We’re off to Bear Lake this weekend, but we’ll be back Tuesday. I’ll talk to you then.”
And that was it. They pulled out and sailed up the road toward the canyon, where they’d begin the winding path toward their vacation spot. It felt a lot like avoiding the subject, but what could I do? I couldn’t even call because first, no one in the family made phone calls and drove anymore, and second, he wouldn’t have reception for at least two hours.
So? I’d start the weekend. I now had a date to come clean with Rich, and maybe I’d have some success psyching myself up for the job, even running it through with Maddie if she’d let me, before I did. And if it went as badly as I expected, she’d be there for me after.
Speaking of, Maddie’s name popped up on my phone. A thrill of anticipation hit and I eagerly answered, ready to move on from the trash part of the day.
“Hey, how’d your call with work go?”
She was silent a moment, at which point all that anticipation shifted into something darker, heavier.
“I’m leaving.”
My mind froze at the words. Was this news? We always knew she was leaving. In a few weeks, I’d deal with that, but for now, I—
“I thought I had another week, but they want me back Monday.”
Shaking my head but unable to find words, I jogged toward my truck.This makes no sense. This makes no sense.Finally, I came up with a response. “A week? Monday?” Not exactly proof of intelligent life, but still something. It did the job of prompting her response.
“I was always leaving early August, but they’ve called a vote. I have to be there Monday, so I’m leaving this weekend.”
“What? Wh—what?”
She released a bitter laugh. “I’m leaving Sunday morning.”
CHAPTERFORTY
Maddie
Luca was bouncing off the walls—or he would have been if there were walls.
The day after I found out I had to leave this Sunday and not the next, we joined a big group at a river—or what Utahns apparently called rivers—for a river float that afternoon. Before lunch, we’d all climbed onto inflated tubes and held onto each other’s handles so we were linked as we floated. Now that we’d reached the end of the float and had a few minutes to rest after lunch, Luca ran laps around a circuit of the rope swing that swung out over the river, dropping into the water, swimming furiously to the side and scrambling up the bank to get in line and do it all over again. I hadn’t seen him so energized, and if my heart didn’t feel like it’d been put through a shredder, I would’ve loved it.
As it was, I had no real desire to do anything but attach myself to Aidan and not let go until someone pried me off. John seemed to recognize the tension between us—or surrounding us. I guessed Aidan had told him about the change of plans. He’d taken Luca under his wing as he often did and followed right behind him on the swing and climbing the bank with the others as though he were another preteen and not a fully grown man in his thirties.
This let me cling to Aidan’s hand without letting go. He seemed to need the contact, too. Occasionally, he’d cast me worried glances. We tried our best to chat with the others, but I’d let my friends here know about the change, and they were clearly giving us space. Maybe they could see the mess of emotion written on my face.
Historically, I wouldn’t be worrying about the meeting on Monday. The board wanted me present. Great. A frustrating change of plans, and I generally dictated my own schedule, but I’d been out for nearly eight weeks and away from the city for longer. I got it. Or… normally I would’ve.
But I could feel the problem growing on a cellular level. Would this be some kind of no confidence vote where they made clear that my sabbatical and the ensuing media circus had brought negative attention to the company and they were ousting me?
Somehow, I didn’t think so. I wasn’t one for false bluster, which was part of what made me excellent at my job and very good under pressure. I knew my worth, my capability, and I usually had good self-awareness. The fact that this all seemed opaque to me and yet I couldn’t bring myself to hunt down anyone who’d give me an insider perspective should’ve sent alarm bells through me.
But my heart and mind weren’t doing what they were supposed to do. They were sliced open and bleeding out. They were in a gruesome tango of grief and anger over losing an entire week with Aidan, and a weighty sense that going back Monday would lead to my ruin. Call it dramatic—I would if it wasn’t my life. But I’d felt this before in some small way—not the bleeding heart part. I’d felt it with Korry Taggart. In the spring, I’d known something was coming. I’d sensed that it was all going to come to an impasse, and sure enough, within a few weeks of that feeling haunting me like a shade, Taggart held me at gunpoint.
