Open Skies (2 page)

Eventually, their lives had taken them in completely different directions – Julie had fought tooth-and-nail to get through college on scholarships, while Tammy had shacked up with one loser after another and bounced from secretarial job to waitressing job to retail job – but none of that mattered. When the chips were down, Tamara Jenkins always came through. Loyal, brave, street-smart, tough, and funny, nobody could make Julie laugh the way that Tammy did. She was a true friend. Julie knew that she could tell Tammy the truth about how shocked, and hurt, and confused she was. Tammy wouldn’t use it against her, or hold it against her. Tammy would have her back.

“You’re right,” Julie said. “I do feel a bit thrown.”

“I’ll just bet,” Tammy said, not even a bit fooled by her friend’s calm tone. “OK, this calls for an emergency lunch. One with wine. I’ll call Marco and cancel with him, and meet you at Freddie’s at one-thirty?”

“Oh, hell, yeah. I’ll be there.” Julie glanced at her watch. “Urgh. I have to get to the office. I said I’d be there by ten and it’s half-past now.”

“Where are you?”

“Starbucks.”

“For a stress-relieving cinnamon bun?”

“You know me so well.”

Both women laughed and Julie started to feel better. “How’s it going with you today, Tammy?”

“Oh, the usual.”

“What’d Reggie get up to this morning?”

“Today, the boss decided that we need to lock up all the pens in the office.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yeah. He read an article about how much money the average office loses every year to staff stealing pens and computer paper and post-its and the like. So
now
my job description includes monitoring coffee consumption, toilet paper usage
and
being the guardian of office supplies. Everyone hates me, Jules. God,
I
hate me.”

“Maybe today’s lunch is a Margarita lunch.”

“Hmmm. Maybe you’re right.”

“OK, Tammy. I’ll see you at one-thirty.”

“See you.”

Julie felt better after hanging up the phone. So what if her deadbeat father left her some ranch in the middle of nowhere? She didn’t have to keep it, did she? No. If Hawkins was right, she could sell the damn place and scoop a tidy sum, a little extra money to start her life with Steve when they got married next year. Maybe they could even honeymoon in Hawaii and buy an apartment right in New York City, one big enough to start a family. Right now, that was out of the question, but with a surprise windfall? Maybe it could happen.

What would
not
happen, she knew, was that she’d move to Colorado to take over a hotel.
Especially
one with horses.

**
“I’m sorry. I just
what
? According to
who
?”

Julie stared in horror and confusion at Timothy Wheeler.
How
could she have just lost her job?

She had taken over as Director of New Business Development at Plum Designs just nine months earlier. In that time, she’d brought in five contracts, big ones. The last job was for Josephine Lockley, who had wanted her summer home completely redesigned, from top to bottom. Julie had handled that one personally, and had worked her butt off for two months on the countless changes that Mrs. Lockley had demanded. Nights, weekends, public holidays – Julie had worked them all. But that summer home was now a marvel of design, technology, and relaxation. Julie loved it: a cabin on the lake, with high ceilings and huge windows and fresh colors everywhere. It had net Wheeler about $200,000 after clearing all expenses, she knew. So why was she being fired?

Wheeler spread his hands. “Julie, we just aren’t sure that you’re the best person to head up the NBD department.”

“Tim. I have brought in huge clients for you. The Merton & Grey offices contract
alone
guarantees work for three people for the next six months. What, exactly, am I not doing correctly?’

“You don’t have a strong enough sales background.”

She stared at him. “Tim, I have
no
sales background. And you knew that when you promoted me. I even pointed it out when you made me the offer. I was an interior designer for nine years – that’s where I come from. It wasn’t a problem nine months ago, when I accepted the job. Why is it an issue now?”

Wheeler looked down and fiddled with his tie. Julie was right, of course, and he knew it. He had made her the offer, and she had pointed out her lack of sales experience, and he had waved it off. And truthfully, she had risen to the occasion admirably: the Lockley job had given Plum Designs a cachet among the New York society set that he’d craved and chased for almost a decade.

But his son-in-law had just graduated with an MBA from Harvard and was looking for a job. The kid was bright and seemed keen. He’d shown up at Wheeler’s house the past weekend with a massive presentation of ideas to attract new business. He had lists of potential clients and a Rolodex of impressive connections. OK, he knew nothing at all about interior design, but did he really need to? Sales was sales, Wheeler figured, and all Jimmy had to do was set up the meetings, get the business, and hand the design stuff over to the trained professionals.

Far more importantly, his daughter Sophie was refusing to let him and his wife see their grandson until he found a job for Jimmy. He’d looked around, of course, made a few calls. But the job market was tight right now, and besides, Sophie had demanded a certain salary. None of Wheeler’s contacts had offered anywhere close to that. This was the only solution that he could come up with. It was too bad that Julie was the sacrificial lamb, but he wanted to see Jimmy Junior, and this was the price that he had to pay. It was worth it.

“Julie, I’m sorry. I understand that you’re upset. But we do want you stay on.”

“As what?”

“As a designer, of course.”

Julie stared at Wheeler in disbelief. She’d always thought of him as a fussy little man who wore too much cologne, but he’d never struck her as completely stupid.

“You actually expect me to stay here after this?”

“You could be Head of Design. Your salary would have to drop quite a bit, but at least you’d have a job.”

“You don’t get it, do you, Tim? I can’t accept that kind of demotion. It’s totally humiliating.”

“Look, Julie. Business is business, and this is my company, it’s my show. I have to make these kinds of decisions sometimes.”

“I fully understand that, Tim. But you’re essentially firing someone from a position in which they’re actually doing a good job. I just can’t stay here under those circumstances.”

Wheeler shrugged. “The market is tough as hell right now. Nobody’s hiring, and if you tried to start your own thing, you’d need at least two years to be financially stable. Probably longer.”

Julie realized that this was exactly what he had been counting on when he decided to take away her promotion. He was hoping that she’d be so grateful to still be employed, she’d eat the insult. Well, forget that. She was no fresh-out-of-college intern, desperate for a nice company name on her CV, prepared to work eighteen hours a day for less than she was worth. She’d done her time in the typing pool, fetching coffee, photocopying and smiling with all her teeth showing as men patted her butt and hit on her. Those days were gone, long gone. Julie Everett was now a respected, sought-after, in-demand interior designer who didn’t have to beg or bow to anyone. Not ever again.

For the second time in as many hours, Julie Everett felt her perfect, carefully-constructed world shake on its foundations, and this time, it made her furious. There was no need to call on the blue room; she had bypassed panic and gone straight to being pissed off.

She had worked too hard and too long to let this fat little joke of a man humiliate her: appearance was everything to Julie, and she could not –
would
not – abide looking weak. She called on her coldest, most professional tone and body language. Time to scare the living hell out of Timothy Wheeler.

“No deal, Tim,” she said calmly, crossing her legs. “You’re demoting me for no legally justifiable reason. I’ve performed well. The clients I’ve brought in will account for almost fifty percent of this year’s turnover. The clients are happy – they’ve recommended Plum based on my work, and the work of the team under my leadership.” Her eyes flashed and she straightened her slim shoulders. “If you want me out as NBD Director, fine. But I’m not staying here. If you want me to go quietly and not make any trouble for you, you’d better offer me one hell of a severance package.”

Tim Wheeler stared at her, furious. Who did she think she was, dictating terms to
him
? Did she really think that she’d find another job so quickly? Well, let the little princess find out the hard way: she’d be broke and back begging in three months. He’d wait.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll have legal draw up some terms. They’ll get it to you by the end of the week.”

“Fine.”

“And you’ll clean out your desk today?” he said.

Julie stood up. “It’ll be my pleasure. But before I leave this building, I want something in writing from you, confirming that I’ll receive a fair severance offer from Plum by the end of this week.”

Wheeler flushed.
Bitch
. He’d been planning to get her pert butt out of the building, and then pretend that he’d never agreed to a package. Then again, if he didn’t come through, he got the feeling that she’d open up her perfect little pouty mouth and trash him all over New York.
Jesus Christ. Fine. Agree to pay the little diva to shut up, but just get her out of here.

“Agreed. I’ll get Cindy to type up a standard termination agreement, with a stipulation that final severance details will be decided within five days.”

Julie nodded tartly and swept out without another word. No handshake, no thank you for the years of employment, no best wishes offered. She simply withdrew, became distant and remote. She was good at that.

Wheeler sat down at his mahogany desk and glared at her back as she walked away on those shapely legs. Yeah, she’d figure out soon enough that the world outside of these walls was tough and competitive. Let her enjoy being all self-righteous and arrogant. That attitude wouldn’t last for long – reality would hit her soon enough.

**
Julie stood outside on the street, feeling horribly unbalanced. She caught her reflection in the plate-glass window of the lobby area and was relieved to see that she looked pulled-together and brisk. Not a hair out of place, no signs of stress or distress on her face. She raised her chin slightly and met her own gaze.

She was carrying one small box of her personals: her coffee cup, some photos of her and Steve on vacation, her day planner. The heavier stuff, like her reference books and samples, would be sent to her apartment by courier. Her personal assistant – no, wait, her
ex
-personal assistant, Tricia – said that she’d arrange it all and not to worry about it.

Julie looked down at her watch and was astounded to see that it was just 11:25 a.m. How was it possible that in the space of just two hours, her whole life had been so completely upended?

OK,
she thought.
Go home. Just go home, call Steve and ask him to come home early and curse Tim Wheeler with you. Call Tammy and cancel lunch – have her meet you later for a few drinks. Deep breaths, girl. Give nothing away. It’s all going to be OK
.

She hailed a cab, and clambered in to the back seat. She watched the street outside and tried to stay positive. She had some savings, but not enough to last more than four – maybe five, if she was careful – months if she had no additional income at all. New York was a crazy-expensive city, and even with Steve’s good job at the bank, he wouldn’t be able to support them both for more than another four months. At most. Everything was riding on this severance offer; she hoped for at least three months’ salary in a lump sum payment. That would take some of the heat off.

She was relieved when the ride home took less than thirty minutes; traffic had gone her way, for once. She came in to the lobby of her building and checked the mail. Urgh. Credit card bills. She stuffed them in to her purse and decided to look at them after a glass of wine. Maybe two.

She got off the elevator on the fifth floor, fumbled around in her purse and found her keys. She walked in to the tiny entrance area, and put the box on the table. She kicked off her teetering Jimmy Choos – amazing, sexy shoes that lengthened her legs and dropped ten pounds off her curvy frame, but they pinched her baby toes – and walked in to the living room, wondering if a Margarita a few minutes before noon was in order.

Then, she heard them. Voices. Voices in the bedroom.

She stood, stock-still, frozen, disbelieving.

Oh, my God. This is not happening. This is not happening, all these things happening, everything falling apart, all at the same time.

As quietly as possible, she walked in her sheer-stockinged feet to the bedroom. Cocking her head and holding her breath, she listened at the door.

Two voices. Steve’s. And a woman’s.

The door was open just a crack and she peeked in, trying to see who the woman was. But her bathrobe was hanging off the back of the door and blocked her full view.

She waited three heartbeats and then slammed her open palm on the door. It burst open, crashing in to the wall, and rebounding back, hitting her painfully on the toe.

Steve was in bed – in
her
bed, in
their
bed – with a blonde. The woman screamed and dove under the covers; Steve jumped to his feet. He was naked.

Something inside of Julie just closed up in that moment: the soft, sweet, vulnerable part of her heart just froze and died as she stared at her fiancé. Steven Bryce was one of the very few men that she’d actually allowed herself to get close to in the whole of her life. Because of him, she’d started to believe in love, in good men, in happiness with another person.

And now it was all gone.

Blue. Blue. Blue.