***
Thirteen Months Later
Angela was vaguely surprised at how many people were in attendance today, the chapel at the cemetery nearly full, though mostly with co-workers and clients. Barbara hadn’t had much of a family, just a nephew she hadn’t seen in years and a couple of distant cousins. It made Angela sad to realize that she’d likely been closer to her boss than almost anyone else here today.
Barbara’s sudden death from a massive heart attack shouldn’t have been such a shock, given her steadfast refusal to obey any of her doctor’s orders. Up until her dying day she’d continued to smoke several packs of cigarettes a day, eat a greasy, calorie-laden diet, and rarely take her prescribed medications. She’d collapsed at her desk just after lunch, and had been dead before the paramedics could arrive. For once Angela had been grateful she’d mastered the ability of shutting off her emotions, as it had helped her get through the trauma of seeing her boss – and her friend – die before her very eyes.
It was less than a week after the funeral when Angela was called into her manager’s office, a summons she’d been expecting, and had mentally prepared herself for. In the thirteen months she’d been Barbara’s partner, the older woman had taught her well and Angela was more than ready to fight for what she knew she was entitled to – namely fifty percent of Barbara’s clients.
“You’re a very lucky young woman, Angela,” began Paul McReynolds as he closed the door to his office.
Angela arched a brow at her manager. “Really? Is that what you’d call watching someone drop dead right in front of you?”
Paul had the good graces to look vaguely ashamed. “I’m sorry for what you had to go through that day. I can’t even imagine how upsetting it must have been. Still, you seemed to keep your head on straight and not fly into a panic.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes you just operate on auto pilot in these situations, do what has to be done. Not that my remaining calm helped poor Barbara in the end, did it?”
“No. Look, Angela, I don’t mean to sound insensitive. I realize that you were probably one of the few people in this world who actually liked Barbara. But there’s also no denying the fact that you stand to benefit from her death.”
According to the firm’s policies, so long as a partnership between two brokers had been in existence for at least a year, then the surviving partner was entitled to fifty percent of the accounts upon the death of the other. The surviving partner was also entitled to choose exactly what accounts they wanted to keep from that fifty percent.
Knowing this meeting with Paul was imminent, Angela had gone through the client lists with a fine tooth comb to identify the most desirable and lucrative accounts. She quietly handed Paul the list of those clients now.
“This is approximately fifty percent of Barbara’s account book,” she told him matter-of-factly. “The ones I’ve chosen to keep as my entitlement. Let me know who the rest of the accounts get distributed to and I’ll make sure everyone gets their client files.”
Paul glanced at the list and gave a low whistle of admiration, no doubt having recognized a good many of the names. “Well, you certainly knew what you were doing when you made your choices, didn’t you? You sure you’re going to be able to handle some of these, Angela? Barbara had a lot of high profile clients, you know.”
“I’m sure.” It had been a long time since Angela had felt this self-assured about anything. “Barbara had faith in me and she taught me a lot. Plus, I’ve already met all of these clients and they like me. My decision is final.”
Paul chuckled. “She did teach you well, didn’t she? Just don’t turn into a ballbreaker like she was, okay? You’re too young and have too much potential to become a cranky old shrew like your partner was.”
Angela gave a casual lift of her shoulder. “My personal life has nothing to do with my professional one. But I fully intend to make Barbara proud of me and do the right thing by these clients.”
Paul sighed. “Fine. Now, I can’t let you have her office, unfortunately.
That
would really set off fireworks around here. I’ll warn you that a lot of people are going to be royally pissed off about the percentage of her book you’re getting – not that you’re not legally entitled to it, of course.”
Up until now, Angela had been sitting at a cubicle just outside of Barbara’s office, but with her acquisition of half of the book she was now well within her rights to get a private office.
“I don’t care about her office,” replied Angela. “In fact, I don’t think I could work in there without reliving the day of her death over and over. What other spots are open?”
Paul hesitated. “Right now the only other one is at the very end of the hallway, the one in the corner. It’s not very big or -”
“I’ll take it,” interrupted Angela. “It will be fine for me. I don’t need much space and I like the idea of being a bit isolated. I don’t like a lot of distraction when I’m working.”
“Well, that was easy,” said Paul in relief. “I wish I could tell you that it’s going to be as easy for you these next few weeks. Watch your back, Angela. Legally entitled or not, you’re bound to get a lot of backlash, a lot of petty professional jealousy from people who don’t think you earned it.”
She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Didn’t earn it? Did anyone else work eighteen hour days, plus take work home at night and on weekends? Did any of them get called an idiot twenty times a day, or have to tiptoe around a boss who could fly into a rage at a moment’s notice? I sure as
hell
earned every one of those accounts, Paul, and I’ll gladly tell that to anyone who thinks otherwise.”
Paul grinned. “I think my warning has come too late – you’re already turning into a ballbreaker.”
Thanksgiving, two and half years later
It was a cold, foggy morning in Carmel, typical for this time of the year, but once she’d completed five miles or so of her planned twenty mile run, Angela finally began to warm up a bit. Doing these long runs not only provided her with the solace and peace of mind she needed so badly, but also helped to dispel the perennial chill that at times seemed to seep into her very bones. Running made her blood pump faster, warmed her up, so that her extremities didn’t feel quite so icy.
And today this early morning run through the streets of her old neighborhood, and then connecting to a new bike path, also provided her with an excuse to get out of the house. She never liked coming home, and a big family dinner such as today’s Thanksgiving celebration was one of her least favorite occasions. So she welcomed these next few hours when she could be blissfully alone and not have to be confronted with the unhappy memories being inside her parents’ home invariably dredged up.
She bumped up the volume on her iPod at some point, as though she could drown out the voices in her head that always threatened to distract her. But the song that came on next did nothing to help the cause, and she cursed softly, belatedly recalling that she’d meant to delete this particular entry from her playlist months ago. And yet, even as her finger hovered over the forward button, she continued to listen to the heartrending lyrics of O.A.R.’s
Shattered.
She’d listened to this song so many times after the break-up with Nick that she’d half-jokingly begun to think of it as her theme song.
As she listened to it now – for the first time in months – Angela wondered if she would ever feel whole again. As the singer asked the question of how many times he could break until he shattered, she knew exactly how he felt.
But when she felt the unwelcome shimmer of tears begin to well up behind her eyes, she ruthlessly advanced the iPod to the next song, gratified to recognize the throbbing beat of a Papa Roach song. There was nothing the least bit sad or sentimental about a song like
Last Resort
, and once again she was able to push any depressing thoughts from her head and just run.
She hit the ten mile mark, her turnaround point, and stopped to take a long swig from her handheld water bottle, taking a brief walk break as she did so. She’d learned over time to take these little breaks during her long runs, especially since she’d moved into ultrarunning over the past year. She’d taken to the marathon distance easily, and after completing three of them within six months, she’d sought out bigger challenges – fifty kilometers, fifty miles. In the coming year, she had plans to run a couple of hundred kilometer races, with the goal of completing a hundred miler after that.
She was about four miles from the end of her run when another runner pulled up beside her. As was her norm, she ignored the person to her left, remaining focused on her music and her running. But the guy she could glimpse from her peripheral vision evidently wasn’t taking the hint easily, keeping pace with her as they ran side by side. Her first impression was that he was unusually tall, something she typically noticed about a man since she tended to tower over so many people. The second thing she noticed was that he seemed to be keeping up with her easily, though she’d admittedly had to slow down over the last few miles due to increasing fatigue. And the third thing she noticed, as she stole another sideways glance at him, was that the somewhat goofy grin he gave her seemed oddly familiar.
She pressed the pause button on her iPod and gazed at her uninvited running companion quizzically. “Um, do I know you from somewhere?”
He brushed a lock of his shaggy, sandy brown hair out of his eyes and grinned even wider as he nodded enthusiastically. “I didn’t think you’d remember me, Angela, but yeah, we went to high school together. I’m Dwayne Conroy. Uh, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Angela’s eyes widened in surprise. “Dwayne? Ah, yeah, it has definitely been a long, long time.”
The Dwayne Conroy she remembered from high school – the same guy Lauren had caustically nicknamed Dwayne the Dweeb – had always been – well, a real dweeb. Astonishingly tall – at least half a foot taller than she was – he’d also been skinny as a rail, incredibly clumsy, and quite possibly the goofiest guy she’d ever seen. Back in high school his jeans had always been too short, his glasses too thick, his braces too shiny. He’d hung out with the other nerds and geeks, and Angela couldn’t recall ever associating with him during their school days.
But the years since their senior year had been kinder to Dwayne, as her quickly assessing gaze took note of. The glasses were gone, and his light blue eyes twinkled at her merrily. Gone, too, were the braces and he grinned at her with a set of straight, gleaming white teeth. He was still incredibly tall, of course, but not nearly so skinny and seemed to have finally grown into his height. No one would ever call him built or muscular, but he was certainly lean and fit and wore his workout clothes well. He might never fit anyone’s opinion of a cool guy, but he was definitely not a dweeb any longer.
“I never knew you were a runner,” he was telling her now. “From what I remember in high school, you played a lot of other sports, though – soccer, basketball, volleyball.”
She nodded. “You’ve got a good memory. And, no, I didn’t really run in high school, at least not seriously. I started running about three years ago. What about you?”
As they ran along at a comfortable pace, Dwayne chatted happily about his college days at Texas A & M, where he’d been a national collegiate champion in the high jump. Somewhat guiltily, Angela realized she’d never took notice of the fact that Dwayne had also been a standout on their high school track team, good enough to have been recruited by several colleges.
She told him about her own years at Stanford on the volleyball team, the NCAA titles they’d won, and her Olympic experience.
Dwayne gave a low whistle. “Wow. That’s my goal, you know. To make the next Olympic team. My coach thinks I’ve got a great shot, especially since I took the silver medal at this year’s national championships.”
“Oh, so you still compete?” she asked in surprise. “I mean, it wasn’t just something to get you through college?”
Dwayne shook his head. “Nope. That’s what I always figured, too, but my college coach was the one to suggest I stay the course awhile longer. He knew some people at Nike and helped me to get a sponsorship deal after graduation.”
Angela gazed at him in amazement. “Wow, that’s fantastic, Dwayne. I guess I never paid much attention to the track team back in high school, never -”
“Never paid much attention to
me
,” he finished. “Hey,” he added soothingly when she flushed with embarrassment, “don’t worry about it. Hardly anyone noticed me back then. Or if they did it was to laugh because I walked into a door or tripped over my shoelace. I never expected a girl like you to notice me.”
Angela quirked a brow at him. “Huh?”
Dwayne chuckled. “You never knew I had a huge crush on you back then, did you?”
She was instantly flustered. “Um, I, ah, never noticed, no. But in all fairness I didn’t really date much in high school, didn’t pay attention to guys in general. I was so much taller than most of the guys that I always felt -”
“Awkward? Ungainly?” finished Dwayne. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Still do, matter of fact. But that was one of the things that attracted me to you. I figured we had our height in common.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, not sure what else to say. She’d had zero idea that Dwayne had been attracted to her, and guiltily acknowledged that even if she’d known it would never have amounted to anything back then. He’d been far too much of a dweeb, and she’d been too screwed up to even consider dating someone.