Page 37 of Petals and Plot Twists
“Anytime,” Steve says. “It’s the least I can do, seeing as how I can’t seem to fix your apartment.”
I turn and follow him through the basement and toward the elevator. “Have you talked to Archer about it? Does he have any suggestions?”
“Not useful ones,” Steve says. “Unless you also think it’s a good idea to call the Ghostbusters.”
I chuckle. “You sure that suggestion didn’t come from Willa?”
His lips quirk up the slightest bit. “I wondered the same thing.”
“I know you’re trying, Steve, but I can’t stay with Sophie forever,” I say as Steve presses the button for the elevator.
He holds up his hands. “I know. I promise this is at the top of my priority list right now. I’m just not used to theoutside-the-boxthinking this building requires of me.”
The elevator dings, and we step into the first-floor lobby of The Serendipity.
“I’ll keep you posted on your apartment,” Steve says as he heads toward the grand staircase. “Thanks again for your patience.”
I lift a hand and wave it in acknowledgement. “It’s not like I have much choice in the matter,” I mutter under my breath. Before I reach Sophie’s apartment door, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
Sophie left me to unload the LEGO bins on my own, saying she needed to water the garden before it got dark, but she might be back in her apartment by now, and I definitely don’t want to answer this phone call with company.
Because it’s my boss.
Calling me on a Saturday.
That’s never happened before.
Instead of heading left toward Sophie’s apartment, I turn right and duck into the library. It’s blessedly empty at the moment, so I quickly answer the call just before it gets sent to voicemail.
“Dr. Conway,” I say. “How are you?”
“Good. Thanks for answering. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday,” my boss says.
Dr. Conway is a good boss. Agreatboss, really. He’s patient and respectful of my intelligence, and he doesn’t micromanage. As long as I get my work done, he lets me manage my time working from home however I see fit, whether it’s two in the morning or two in the afternoon.
“That’s okay, sir. You caught me at a good time. How can I help you?”
“Well, I just got out of a very long meeting with the executives down at corporate, and we had a conversation I think is going to interest you.”
“Okay,” I say, nerves making my gut tighten. Is this about the promotion? Have they decided not to give it to me?
“I know you’re expecting the lead data position here in Serendipity Springs.”
“I wouldn’t say expecting,” I say, rolling back some of my earlier confidence. “Hoping, but I know I’m not the only one qualified?—”
“You’re the best man for the job, Peter,” he says, his tone perfunctory. “Everyone knows that. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—corporate is also impressed with your work, and they’ve got another job offer they’d like you to consider.”
“A job?” I ask. “At corporate?”
“If I were selfish, I’d discourage you from taking it,” he says, “because I hate to lose you. But they need a new chief data scientist, and they want you. It’s one heck of a promotion, kid. You’ll be making what I make. Executive salary, full benefits, retirement, all of it.”
I drop onto the nearest chair, heart pounding.
Chief Data Scientist for IronKey Cybersecurity.
It reallyisa promotion. One I wouldn’t expect to get for at least another ten years.
“Why not you, sir?” I ask. “You know so much more than I do.”
