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“She does. She wants to protect her skin from aging.” Laine wrapped her fingers around the mug of tea and remembered Hadiya’s delectable coffee. She wondered if the young woman would mind a call from one of her brother’s exes. Hadiya had seemed upset when she’d learned Laine was leaving. “I did wear sunscreen when we were out, but it only helped so much.”
“I’m not criticizing. It looks great.” Greg patted her leg. “But you don’t look too happy to be here.”
“I am, Dad! I missed you! I know, I didn’t get to call you as often when I was in Bahrain—”
“Nah, I don’t mean here with me. You’ve just looked and sounded kinda down since you’ve been back.” He shrugged and sipped his tea. “Must’ve been that buzz you get when you’ve got a really meaty thing to dig your teeth into at work, huh?”
“Meaty thing.” Laine bobbed her head in agreement.
“Well, that job’s not totally finished, is it? You’ll be back to check on the work?”
“I will…if Aziz asks. But I’ll be doing a lot from New York for the time being.” Laine ran the tip of her finger over the lip of the mug. “I will miss it, though.”
“You didn’t burn the place down. You could go back sometime. Even not for work.” He laughed. “Not that it’s your style, or mine, but I hear you can just go out sometimes. Just to enjoy yourself.”
“I can’t help if I’m driven.” Laine tried to relax her shoulders and sit back. “I don’t know. It’s just been different since I’ve been back. Before, I’d jump at any chance Mr. Brandt gave me. I’d take on so many accounts that I could barely breathe. Now, I’m not that motivated to line his pockets. I want something that excites me.”
“Nothing wrong with that. It’s good to be fulfilled by your work. I loved being a teacher. They had to practically take me out of the school building in a wheelbarrow.”
“Fulfilling doesn’t pay the bills.”
Greg waved his hand. “You girls are both so damn self-sufficient. You’ve got two retirement accounts. I trust you’ll figure it out. You’ve juggled everything else. You can juggle a career with being happy.”
Laine thought about that as her dad got up and went into the kitchen to check on the cookies he’d insisted on baking (after exclaiming as he always did that she looked thin, which she never believed). It felt so bizarre. After having tasted something different, her old life now seemed sour to her. Being home with her dad felt right. But nothing else did.
***
The next day, Laine went out to the Museum of Modern Art and took in the general collections, as well as a local exhibition from an ongoing program for New York teenagers interested in art. Before, she’d avoided going out and doing things in the city, simply because of having no one to go with and too much work to do.
After her weekend, Laine came into the office feeling refreshed and inspired. She’d filled her calendar with events in New York, as well as a few day trips to the surrounding area, which she had taken some time to scout out and research online. It was a skill she’d honed for her clients but never used for herself. She needed something to look forward to. She needed a fuller life.
From that point, Laine went easy on the newest temps, kept her replies to Richard and Joel curt—the younger man always looked vaguely like he was about to wet himself when she was around—and did her work to her peak ability. Then she went home and focused on other things.
Mr. Brandt called her into his office two weeks after her return to New York. He raked his eyes over her outfit, a blend of her former office glory with a scarf selected by Hadiya, and gestured for her to take a seat.
Laine sat and followed him with her eyes as he strolled around his desk, not sitting himself. It was such an obnoxious power move, to have her sit while he stood. She kept her back straight and folded her hands casually in her lap.
“Laine, we need to talk about your recent work,” he said finally.
Laine raised a brow. “Is there a problem? My work hasn’t declined in quality.”
“Of course not,” Mr. Brandt said, a bit unsettled by her confidence.
Laine stroked her index finger over the back of her left hand and tilted her head back, examining him. Mr. Brandt ran his hands over the front of his suit and sat at his desk.
“It’s the quantity, my dear. It’s the diminishing vigor with which you are taking on new accounts, and how many you have not taken on.”
“I have a reasonable workload,” Laine said, keeping her tone even. “I have as many clients right now as Adrien or Joel. More than Joel, actually. He’s gotten fired from two accounts. If I understand correctly, Richards had to take the Madison account from him. We almost lost it.”
