“I've put her name and address on the board because that's where you can send your thank-you notes. She's at home this morning, crying because no one appreciated her days of effort for dinner. And you
should
appreciate what she did because I know none of you would intentionally hurt a Christian sister.”
Kelly starts to edge towards me, as though she's going to wrestle the podium away from me, but I grab the sides of it. “I also put my own name up there. That's where you can send your thank-you notes to me for clearing your plates and throwing away your aluminum cans.”
Kelly comes closer and I look at her like
don't mess with me, sweetheart. I've got some righteous anger going on, and I'm not stopping.
“I'd like to read a verse to you all. This is from James 3:13. âWho is wise and understanding among you? Let him show it by his good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom.'”
Their eyes are wide like saucers, and I know I'm about to be gonged, so I go as fast as possible. “Kay does all of these things for you because she loves the Lord. She wants to be useful to Him. Every Wednesday night she hosts a Bible study where King Solomon him-self would be happy to dine. On Thanksgiving, she slaved over that stove for two days and brought out the fine china so that you all would feel like you had a place to call home. She doesn't want accolades and attention, but could you all find it in your hearts to say that what she does matters?”
Okay, tearing up a bit.
“That would be really appreciated by me. I love Kay, and I hate to see her hurt. I know you all do too.”
Pastor Max nods his head as if to say that wasn't so bad.
As I'm walking out I hear the murmurs, “Boyfriend just left her.”
“Can you blame him? That's one angry chick.”
“She's out of control.”
Just a few things that make them feel better. I turn on my heel and offer one final comment. “The Christmas announcement is . . .” Pause for effect. Little lawyer trick. “That you're planning your own Christmas party. Kay has quite a bit of stress with our remodel, and that's taking precedence.”
I walk out of the class with my head held high. Once outside, I bump straight into Arin, who's wearing a violet Indian sari with gold accessories and a bindi dot on her forehead. First thought is
Did Seth bring me the scarf and her the rest of the outfit?
“Hi, Ashley.”
“Arin.”
Is it Halloween?
“Are you taking up Hinduism?”
She smiles. “Of course not. I'm going to India. That's what I wanted to talk to you about last week when you raced out of here to be with Brea.”
“Right. I heard about it from Seth. Well, best of luck with that.” I try to walk away and she grabs my arm.
“I hope you're not angry with me, Ashley. This is really something I feel in my heart that I'm called to do.”
“Ministry at all costs. I understand perfectly.”
“You're mad about Seth and me.”
Just hearing “Seth and me” makes me realize I'm not as over Seth as I'd like to be. But then, I guess no one ever appreciates it when their ex moves on. Especially when it's before your actual breakup. “I don't know what âSeth and me' means, I suppose.” I look straight into her bright blue eyes, and they darken for just a split second. “But what-ever. Just be happy.”
“There's nothing between us, if that's what you're implying.”
“I'm not implying anything, Arin.”
She stands, stunned at my reaction, and I must admit, it's a little terse. I think I drank too much coffee this morning.
“I hope your ministry in India goes as well as the one in Costa Rica.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” And it isn't. “Didn't things go well in Costa Rica?”
“Things went fine. Why don't you like me, Ashley?”
Um . . . do we really have that kind of time?
“You know, I actually really respect you. If you can get Seth to part with any money, you're a better woman than me.”
“There's nothing going on in that way with us.”
“There's nothing going on with you, Arin. Did you ever see that show
Average Joe
?” I give Arin a slight hug. “Good luck to you. Go and be safe. I will be praying for you, and that's the truth.”
Arin walks away, tinkling from all her golden baubles as she walks. If that's what Seth wants, I was a square peg in a round hole the entire time. And just like that time I tried to shove myself through the doggy door at home when I forgot my key? It doesn't work, and it's not pretty.
I
race my TT down the street to Gainnet. It's really the only surge I get in the morning because of the traffic, which snarls and snakes at a despicable pace. I've stopped for a double mocha. I'm sure I'll be paying for that this week on the scale, but it was Thanksgiving, after all, and I didn't exactly chow down in typical holiday fashion. I deserve it.
My puppy has a thing for whipped cream, so I have had to forgo the topping on my coffees, which I'm sure my hips are thankful for. Rhett is wagging everywhereâhe's so excited to go to work. And I must say, I finally have a use for that passenger seat. I pet Rhett's face, and he plops his head in my lap. It can't be comfortable over the middle console, but I'm thankful for the affection.
When I walk into the office, the security guards are standing around
. Uh oh, someone's getting fired
.
And right after the holiday? Now that is a bummer.
Tracy meets me outside my office where all the cubicles are lined up.
“The board of directors is in the meeting room. They want to see you.”
“The board of directors? Where's Hans?”
She shrugs. “I don't know, Ashley.”
I hand Rhett's leash to Tracy. “Can you take him on the porch?”
“Sure,” she says.
Luckily, the office crowd is still sparse, but all eyes there do follow me as I enter my office. I drop my briefcase on my desk and look at the darkened brows around me.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” I say, with as much courage as I can muster.
“Good morning, Ashley.” The chairman, Aubrey Williams, stands up. “We've been made aware of some disturbing information.”
I shake my head. “Where's Hans?”
“Hans is gone, Ashley.” Mr. Whiting looks at me. “He won't be back.”
I shake my head. “What do you mean?”
“This must remain strictly confidential, naturally.” Mr. Whiting shuts the door with a slam. “We believe that some embezzlement has taken place.” The chairman opens up his briefcase and holds up a packet of papers. “When you went to Taiwan, there were kickbacks written into the contract.”
I shake my head. “No, Hans wouldn't do that.”
“There was an extra $200,000 written into this contract, Ashley. Can you account for it?” Then he asks me to sit and puts the contract in front of me. “Is this your signature?”
My heart is in my throat.
I only signed it as a witness.
Which is a really weak excuse for a general counsel, and I know better than to say it aloud. I'm not a humble patent attorney anymore.
Fifth Amendment. Fifth Amendment.
Oh Lord, I have been so busy searching for this promotion that it never dawned on my arrogant mind that I might not be ready for it. Oh Lord in heaven, help me.
“There's also the matter of the jewelry on the company credit card.”
I pull my ring finger under the desk. My mother was right. Shopping finally did get me into trouble. “There's a simple explanation for that. I didn't know how to haggle, and Hans taught me. The very next day I went into the same store and bought something for his girlfriend on my account. A ruby ring. I can show you the statement when it comes.”
“And Hans's girlfriend is?” Mr. Whiting stands ready with a mechanical pencil.
“Sophia. But she's gone. She left for Italy.”
The chairman nods his head slowly. “Can I see the jewelry we purchased, please?”
I pull the ring off my finger and place it in the center of my table. It doesn't look beautiful to me anymore. It looks frightening and evil. I am Lord of the Ring. “I'll pay back every penny. You have to understand I thought I
had
paid for it.”
“Miss Stockingdale, you do understand that all of this remains in this room. We don't want our stockholders getting wind of this situation.”
“The contract can be voided. They haven't started production, and if we can prove there's an illegal charge padded into the assembly, we'll be all right on international grounds.”
That's it, good Ashley. Talk lawyerspeak. They don't just pay you to look good.
But of course, I'm trembling. They may not be paying me at all.
“There's been some talk, Miss Stockingdale,” another member of the board speaks up, “about your being in close contact with Hans frequently.” I don't even know who this guy is.
“My relationship has been strictly professional. With the exception of that trip to the jewelry store, and a dinner my boyfriend and I had at his place.”
“Your boyfriend is?”
“In India.”
“My, you two do have the international relations, don't you?”
Actually, they've both just escaped from us internationally. Funny story.
“Silicon Valley is an international place.”
The chairman has my personnel file in front of him. “Is there anyone in the office who can confirm what you're telling us?”
I shrug and drop my head into my palm. “I have no idea.”
My mocha is congealing in my stomach. Making me wish I'd gone straight for the espresso and not messed with the sugar and dairy for the day. Getting accused of international embezzlement really makes a few extra calories seem insignificant in the scheme of things, but who knows if I could stand it without the insulin rush?
Just then Tracy walks in, her trademark figure poured into a pair of low-rise cords and a tight-fitting faux silk top. “May I get any of you gentlemen coffee?”
The chairman looks at her and starts to answer when he forms a different question. “Do you know the nature of Miss Stockingdale's relationship with Hans?” he inquires.
Tracy looks at me and crosses her arms over her chest. “Hans had a tighter relationship with alcohol and, I think maybe, drugs. Once I saw him drop a bag of powder, and he often came out of his office sniffing.” Tracy looks away from me.
Ack! I thought that was because he was allergic to my dog. I'm such a putz.
Oh Lord, I have absolutely no discernment. None. I would have gone to the grave saying Hans was innocent. Yet if I look at all the pebbles along the pathway, I have seen the signs: the wild mood swings, the constant sniffling, the nervous ticks . .
.
“Miss Stockingdale, did you ever see such signs?”
“I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to look for. I saw him drink a lot of wine, but none of my friends drink anything, so I wouldn't know if that was out of the ordinary or not.”
“We'll be bringing in outside counsel, Miss Stockingdale. You do understand that?”
I nod. Laid off again. This time with no severance package. Maybe I should have gone to India. “I understand. I'll clean out my office.”
“No, we don't want you to leave, Miss Stockingdale. You're a VP now, and we can't be uprooting our entire foundation for fear the stockholders will run. It's bad enough that we're letting the CEO go with no warning.”
But can I really stay here? I mean, the entire office thinks I've got something going on with the boss, who has something going on with a crystal white powder. Meanwhile, the board of directors thinks that I'm charging jewelry on the company account, and keeping the for-mer CEO protected legally.
“Mr. Whiting,” Tracy suddenly speaks up. “I can tell you that we on the administration staff are knowledgeable about the office atmosphere. I'd lay my life down saying Ashley was innocent. She doesn't deserve a phantom job, if that's your plan.”
There it is again. Completely lack of discernment. I would have never figured on Tracy standing up for me.
“If you don't mind,” I look around at all the unhappy faces, “I need some time to think. Please take the money for the jewelry out of my paycheck.” I stand up, leaving the ring on the table, and grab my briefcase. I make it to the front door when my cell phone rings. There's no caller ID available.
“Ashley Stockingdale.”
“Ashley, it's Hans. I need you to get me something out of my office.”
I hang up the phone. The last thing I need to add to my repertoire is drug runner.
The phone rings again. “I mean it, Hans. Leave me alone!”
“Ashley?” It's Seth.
“It's not a very good time for me.” I stop midstep. “I forgot the dog.”
“Ashley, it's midnight here. Please talk to me before I go to sleep.”
“Call me back in ten minutes.” I hang up the phone and grab Rhett from the back porch and head for my car. The security guards check my briefcase, and I withstand the indignity quite well, all things considered. I get into my Audi and snuggle up against Rhett. “Thank God for you, Rhett. I don't know what I'd do without you.” I'm rewarded with a wet, sloppy kiss.
The phone rings again and Rhett groans. “Yeah, I don't want to talk to him either. Hello.”
“Ashley,” Seth exhales. “It's so good to hear your voice.”
My heart doesn't get all warm and fuzzy, and I don't feel giggly like I usually do. This is progress. For the first time in years, I think I'm actually out from under his spell.
I'm free!
But I can be civil. “How are things in India?”
“I don't think it would be for you, Ashley.”
“Clearly. Where's the nearest Nordstrom?”
“You don't have to play that shallow image with me, Ash.”