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Theoretically, she’s right.
In reality, Benson’s story about Dad’s visit to the grave tells me there’s no way.
Not fucking possible.
It didn’t happen, because he’ll love my mother until the day he dies.
“I’m skeptical that happens, but on the off chance it does, of course we’ll make a formal apology to the victims with a generous cash settlement. I’ll hire an outside firm to form a plan to keep that kind of thing from ever happening again. Sexual harassment of any sort will never be tolerated at Cromwell-Narada, I promise you.”
She smiles. “I believe you—and I believe in you, Mr. Cromwell. Oh, and I appreciate the fact that you vetoed any layoff projections if things continue like they are. Sorry. I couldn’t resist peeking at that report with HR.”
I scoff. “Louise, that was never a question. I’ll take the hit to my own net worth before I put people out on the street over some shit that happened years ago. Are people that worried about losing their jobs?”
She shrugs. “Metrics are down in every measurable way since the story broke. I know more about what’s going on than most. I understood why you weren’t fighting the story, but even I questioned it. I think a lot of people saw the silence as an admission of guilt.”
“With ad dollars tanked, they’re worried a lawsuit will bankrupt the company?”
Louise nods.
I sigh. “No wonder morale is in the toilet.”
It’s not just that my senior staff think they spent part of their time working for a predator when they didn’t. They’re all worried about job security.
“Until I’ve heard from the investigators, I’m not sure what I can ask for besides patience, which is already the official line.”
“Just ride it out until you know something,” she agrees. “I doubt you’re going to lose anyone before then.”
Fuck.
“People are talking about quitting?”
“I mean, nothing definite. Some folks are shopping around casually for backups. But let me reach out to those guys for you so there’s one less thing to worry about.”
I nod my thanks.
Screw this, I should have just hired the PIs myself.
Less than an hour later, Louise returns. “I have two lists of fresh candidates. The short list has the five highest ranked PIs in the state. The longer list contains every active PI in the state. I didn’t know how many you’d want to contact or what their availability is like, and I’m assuming you want this done quickly. I thought more options would be helpful.”
I take both lists and thank her.
Once she’s gone, I turn to face the soaring glass window again that shows me the city, fading behind the fall rain like a dream that never existed.
Behind it, the Puget Sound is even more obscured in the fog.
The dismal weather doesn’t stop my eyes from wandering where they can’t see.
I miss Jenn.
I miss Bee Harbor.
I miss every slobbering happy lick from those dumb dogs.
No matter how this ends, I’ll miss what I demolished as it becomes as distant and unreachable as the sun in the weeping cityscape outside.
I’ll always mourn our stillborn future, and even if she forgives me one day, I can’t imagine ever giving myself the same reprieve.
25
No Easy Love (Jenn)
“More coffee?” the waitress asks.
“Yes, please,” I say.
“Please, please!” Pippa chimes in, flicking her hair over her ear.
She fills our cups and walks away.
“I still can’t believe you loaned me Fyodor and Ekaterina. Thank you so much. This is the first time I’ve been out of the house in a week besides walking the dogs ever since we started renting rooms. I would’ve been toast with Maria out at a debate tournament this weekend.”
I smile, sincerely grateful my bestie loaned out her hubby’s valet and his wife. They’re this cute Russian couple and they both work like mad.
“No big!” Pippa sips her coffee and waves a hand. “Honestly, they’ve been bored since Brock’s life got a little less exciting in the danger department. His lovely wife jumped at the idea when I said the words 'cozy little inn on a secret island.' Plus, if that crazy lady sends anyone after you, now you’ve got a Russian badass who can snip a man in half with one steely-eyed look.”
She grins.
I laugh. “He’s quite the charmer if you give him a chance. I’m pretty sure my old scrapbooking lady wanted to flirt if his wife wasn’t there. Anyhow, you’re a lifesaver, again. Coffee’s on me.”
She holds up her paper cup in salute and I push mine against it.
“So, any word from Captain McHeartsmashy since he showed his true craptacular colors?”
I shake my head.
“Dick. You’re better off, I think. Any guy who goes nuclear doesn’t deserve you. I told Brock the dirt about Cromwell would be a perfect excuse to take ad dollars elsewhere, too, but he’s a big professional party pooper.” She purses her lips in a pout.
