Gillian's Do-Over (2 page)

A chuckle escaped her lips. “
Already tried. I guess my sense of loyalty requires that I follow orders. I’m Gillian Griffiths.” She stood up and offered her hand. “But thanks for the suggestions.”

“Pleasure.” The man rose from his place on the bench, the warmth of his hand a soothing counterpoint of heat against her inward shivers at the thought of having to fire two more people before she went home.

“Matt Gordon. Good luck with those firings.”

She bent down and gave Adelaide’s head a quick pat. “Have a nice day, you two.”

She took her time walking back to the office and, still mulling over the man’s comments, nodded at the receptionist. A choice. If only she felt she had one.

As Gillian passed the employee cubicles, Shelley was dumping items into a box on her desk. She gave Gillian a wan smile as she passed. “I changed my mind. I didn’t want to wait to the end of the week, even though my severance papers say I get paid through Friday.”

“I understand.” Gillian shut her door against the small thuds sounding from Shelley’s desk and pulled the employee files toward her. Had it been only an hour since Nick had pushed them across his desk in her direction?

Another buzz from her phone sounded.
Speak of the devil.
She picked it up. “Yes?”

“Will you come in here, Gillian?”

She entered his office. He was staring at another employee file. Her pulse thudded in her neck. He was adding to the number she hadn’t yet let go?

“I thought you went to the golf course.”

“Changed my mind. You don’t need to take care of those files.”

They’re people, for heaven’s sake, not files.
“Oh?”

“I
’ll fire them.”

Relief flooded her.
Maybe a little bird had passed on what that nice man at the park had said. “Oh, thank you, Nick. I so appreciate you doing it.”

But he didn’t
meet her eyes when he replied, “Along with this one.” The name on the file was her own. “I haven’t liked your attitude the past several weeks. Always questioning my decisions …” His mouth was a thin downward leaning line. “You’re fired, too. As of now. Leave your keys on your desk on your way out.”

Shock ricocheted through her. After twenty years? She stared at
Nick, but he had turned away from her, as if she no longer existed. She must be numb. She was so cold she couldn’t feel the tips of her fingers. Was her heart still beating? There it was, a kind of slow thudding sensation in her chest.

That man in the park had said she had a choice. Too bad Nic
k hadn’t given her one, or that she hadn’t offered to quit before he could fire her.

She returned to her office and sat down, her pulse now racing from the impact of Nic
k’s words, how easily he’d dismissed her. She debated going back into his office, concluded there was no point telling him he couldn’t fire her because she was quitting, and removed her plants from the hangers. An empty box near her desk, from a recent office supply delivery, came in handy when she emptied the drawers of her personal belongings. After taking the box to her car, she re-entered the building and placed her keys on her desk, as Nick had ordered. She looked around, the number of vacant cubicles seeming to mock her. An empty box in the corner of Shelley’s cubicle caught her eye, and Gillian picked it up.

Still stunned at the suddenness of her dismissal, she sat down for a moment and looked around.
More than twenty years of work reduced to a couple of boxes. She wondered idly if Nick would miss her even one bit. She tucked her plants into the box. Without a single backward glance, she left the office and drove home.

She stopped her car in the driveway and looked around. Her house had always seemed so welcoming when she came home
.
Today she noticed that the front porch was in need of paint. The front flower bed was overrun with weeds, a testament to how much of her time had been taken up with work, even on the weekends when her briefcase was full to overflowing with papers to review. Now she’d have time to pay more attention to the house, to her lawn and the back garden. But did she want to devote herself to flowers and home repair? She sighed, hit the garage door opener and parked the car in the garage. A slow burning anger replaced her initial numbness as she brought her office plants into the house.

When her phone rang, she glanced at the name before picking up.

“Lauren, I’m so glad you called,” she said without waiting for a hello. “Want to go for a drink at Vino’s? I’m very much in the mood.”

Her best friend laughed. “It’s only Tuesday. I thought you rese
rved wine and cheese for Fridays.”

“I’m thinking
I’d like a Harvey Wallbanger. Maybe even two or one of those new fancy drinks the bartender introduced last week. How about it?”

“
Since you rarely have more than one glass of wine, something’s happened.”

Trying to sound calm,
Gillian announced, “Nick Talmadge fired me. Can you believe it?” In spite of herself, her voice quavered ever so slightly.

“I’ll be right over.”

Gillian watched as Lauren pushed open the gate between their two yards and trotted across the lawn to the deck. Within minutes, the pressure she’d been feeling since Nick had fired her was released in a torrent of angry words as she related the man’s behavior and, in between gulps of air, how she’d been feeling the last few weeks when she’d had to let so many people go.

“Get your coat. Drinks with dinner. My treat.
And I’ll drive.” Lauren patted Gillian on the back. “Come on. We’re going to celebrate that you’re finally free.”

“Don’t you mean unemployed?”
Gillian corrected as the effect of her firing penetrated her anger. She followed her neighbor out the door and into her car.

“You may be unemployed
at the moment, but think of it as freedom. I say good riddance to that horrible man. You’ve been saying for months that he’s become really difficult to work with.” Lauren patted Gillian’s hand as they drove down the street. “Time to blow your nose, wipe your eyes and put on a happy face.”

But what
was she going to do now? Twenty-plus years down the tube. Since just past her son’s fifth birthday.

When they were seated at the pub,
with drinks in front of them, Lauren looked at Gillian. “What do you want to do now? Get another job? Retire? You’ve never been one to just laze around. I can’t imagine you sitting in front of the television, looking at soaps and eating chocolate bars.”

Gillian appraised Lauren
, her blond hair askew, her ample curves only partially hidden in the running sweats and plaid gardening shirt, a torn pocket on one side. It seemed to be her neighbor’s daily uniform.

“I think I’m still in shock. I really have no idea. After he uttered the F word, all I could think of was getting out of there, not spending another minute in the office. I’ve fired people when it was for cause,
and I was okay with that. But this year? Each one has been more difficult than the last. Nick wanted me to fire three more people today. While I was getting some fresh air, I realized he’s never thought of me as a partner, even after he gave me that fancy title, told me he couldn’t run the place without me. Quinn was right—has been for years. I was just one more employee for Nick to push around. I think he took special pleasure in giving me the boot.”

Lauren looked back at her, sympathy seeming to ooze from every pore. “
It’s time to take stock.” She sipped her wine and stabbed at another piece of calamari. “You’re good-looking, smart. Why don’t you take a vacation before looking for another job? Go someplace exotic, do something you’ve always wanted to do, maybe with a bunch of people you haven’t met yet. You could have one of those unexpected flings Oprah’s guests always mention on her talk show. Then when you come back, your mind will be clear and you can decide exactly what you want to do.”

Gillian took another sip of her margarita. Not a bad idea, but she’d never been much of a joiner. “I’m not so sure I’d be comfortable with a group of strangers.”

Lauren chuckled. “You’re sort of like my Kirk, before he died. More of a private person. But that’s exactly why you should get out of your comfort zone.” She paused, took another sip of her drink and reached for the veggie tray. “Gilly, think of it as an adventure!” One hand waved for the waitress.

“I know!” Lauren leaned closer to Gillian and lowered her voice, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “You could
start with phone sex, something to get your imagination working, your heart pumping. You wouldn’t even have to leave home.” She chortled. “It might give you nice dreams, if nothing else. The next step is to meet a man, a nice man, the kind whose shoes under your bed you wouldn’t mind.”

Matt Gordon’s face flashed through her brain. The only man she’d met recently. He seemed
nice, but she’d probably never see him again.

“Oh, please, Lauren.”
Gillian picked up her salad fork. “You’re making me blush.”

“Then
join the gym. Take a spin class. Who knows? You might meet someone while you’re both sweatin’ to the oldies.”

Gillian laughed and ran a hand through her
shoulder-length hairdo. “A gym class might be more my speed, but they’re expensive. And, now that I’m not working, I’ll need to watch my pennies. Who knows how long it’ll be before I find another job? You know how bad the economy is. And there’s no way I’ll ask Nick for a referral, as if he’d give me one.” But did she really
want
another job?

“Oh, now,
Gilly. You’ve got tons of money. Didn’t you say just last month that those stocks and bonds were still growing that you inherited when your granny died? You’ve been working ever since Quinn was small and you’ve been thrifty as long as I’ve known you. What did he say about you being fired?”

“I haven’t told him yet.”
I need to call him.
“You’re the only one who knows.” Her last phone call with her son had been interrupted by Bianca talking in the background.

“Hmm. Well, you’re going to have to spill the beans sooner or later.”

“I will. When I get home.”

“What do you think he’ll say?”

“He’ll probably tell me ‘good riddance.’ He thinks Nick took advantage, giving me more and more responsibility every year, never matching that with a real promotion. Translation, salary.” Gillian sipped her drink. “I haven’t had a raise in more than three years.”

Lauren nodded. “Good grief! No wonder Quinn’s on your case. So, tell me what’re you going to do
now that you’re free as a bird and ready to fly.”

“At the very least, I should work in the yard. I didn’t realize until I came home this afternoon that it’s a mess. The house could use some sprucing, too. I really should concentrate on that for at least a little while.” She sipped her drink and sighed. “I used to sketch. Maybe I’ll pull out my art supplies and use them again.
I have no idea where I stored them.” She reached for a napkin to wipe sauce from one corner of her mouth before she grinned back at Lauren. “I know. I could draw Nick’s face in a target and throw spit wads at him.”

Lauren chuckled. “If it makes you feel any better, why don’t you tack it up on that dart board Quinn has in the basement? Then you could re
ally skewer him.” Lauren added, “Not a bad idea about sketching. If I recall, you were really good at it. Maybe you could set up a studio. Make money selling your work. Set your own hours, create your own business.” Lauren signaled the waitress for another refill of Gillian’s margarita. “But what about what you’re going to do for
you
. Not that scoring a bullseye or two on Nick Talmadge’s face won’t feel good.”

Lauren
directed her gaze on Gillian. “You’ve focused on everyone else for entirely too long. Including at the office. Put yourself first for a change.” She reached for a hot breadstick and slathered it with butter. “What about a bucket list? Have you got one?”

“Something else I’ve put off. Never thought I’d need one
for at least another ten years. Maybe longer, not until I retired.” Gillian looked up with a start. “If someone asks, maybe I could say I’m retired. It sounds so much better than admitting I was fired.” She speared a baby tomato.

“That’s the spirit.” Lauren chuckled.

Gillian stared at her salad for a long minute. “I guess it couldn’t hurt if I put a bucket list together. It doesn’t mean I would ever
do
any of the items I come up with.”

“But you could if you wanted. It’ll give you something to focus on besides that
creep Talmadge. Be sure to put ‘meet a new man’ on the list.”

Gillian laughed. “More like a quiet trip or two.”

When Gillian
returned home, she spied her laptop, still open on her kitchen counter. What would she do tomorrow, the first day of the rest of her life? She sighed, opened a new file and stared at the screen for several minutes before typing “Bucket List.” When nothing came to mind, she saved the file, and was about to close the laptop lid, ennui weighing on her, when she thought of those sites where men met women and women met men. Did she dare to put up a picture or two? What
did
she want? She chuckled to herself and went upstairs to bed.
I’ll be a latter-day Scarlett O’Hara and worry about that tomorrow.