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He raises a brow. “The yard? I work too much. When would I have time to do that much digging?”
I choke on a laugh. “So she must be coming home soon?”
“Yeah,” he says, but there’s more grim resignation in his voice than anything else. “Maybe. I don’t know, to be honest. She’s in rehab.”
I stare at him, open-jawed. When he said she wasaway, I pictured her fucking around somewhere like the yoga moms at school who take a girls’ trip to Cabo together each winter.Rehabnever occurred to me once. “I’m so sorry. Is she almost done?”
He swallows. "I assume so."
“That’s…a very vague answer.”
He turns onto the road, then glances at me. “It’s something I’ve tried to keep quiet, but...about a year ago, Kate went on a bender and cleaned out a TSG corporate account—she was out of her mind on cocaine at the time and apparently owed some dealer a ton of money. That’s why my name has been scrubbed from the website—so that if I’m implicated in anything else she does, it won’t come back on the company. The board agreed not to press charges as long as she went to rehab. So she went, unwillingly.”
Wow. There’s a lot to process in that statement. But one thing stands out most. “She left ayearago? I had no idea people went to rehab that long.”
His nostrils flare. “They don’t. And it hasn’t been a full year. She went in at the end of July, checked herself out in September, and disappeared entirely until a few weeks ago when she checked back in. I haven’t even heard from her. I only know because I got the bill.”
So she’s been gone nearly a year, with no contact, and he’s still waiting. No one—not Jeremy, not my own family—has ever really wanted me at mybest, yet here Caleb is, wantingsomeone who left at her worst and did terrible things to him while she was at it.
“You must miss her,” I say softly.
“It’s…complicated,” he replies as we pull into the restaurant’s parking lot.
Not the response I expected.It’s complicatedmeans…no, he doesn’t miss her. Or perhaps yes, he misses her, but he’s not sure she’s coming back.
And I have no idea why it feels like the answer matters.
I follow him inside, far more focused on Caleb’s personal life than I am the interview, until he curses under his breath.
“Goddammit,” he says. “We’re screwed.”
He’s already marching toward a table nearby before I can ask what’s wrong. I flash the hostess an apologetic smile and race after him, arriving just as the man sitting at the table rises and extends a hand to Caleb. “David Murphy. I’m taking the story over from Anna.”
The way he says it is combative, as if they’re two boxers greeting each other before the fight begins.
“I know who you are,” Caleb replies, mouth pinched. He gestures to me. “This is Lucie Monroe, our new Director of Employee Programs.”
Murphy shakes my hand, but it’s Caleb he’s focused on...in a clearly hostile way. He hitsrecordon his phone before we’re fully seated. “TSG was just nominated for the dubious honor of ‘state’s worst employers,’” he begins. “Do you have any reaction to that?”
I swallow. I had no idea TSG’s reputation wasthatbad. But what worries me more is that David Murphy has already gone on the attack. I sat quietly through a hundred interviews at Ruth’s house, and none of them began like this. It’s as if he isn’t here for information at all, but simply wants to bury us, and if Caleb answers with one of his rants about employees wanting Frappuccinos, he’ll succeed.
“Obviously, it’s not what any company wants to hear,” Caleb replies smoothly, “but it’s been a wake-up call: employee satisfaction needs to be our first priority. That’s why we’ve hired Lucie. Ultimately, I think the experience will make us stronger.”
It’s absolute bullshit, but I can at least admire Caleb’s willingness to say what he has to for the company’s sake.
The waitress takes our drink orders and drops a basket of bread on the table, giving Caleb multiple once-overs despite the ring on his finger.
“Some might say the timing of your change of heart is suspicious,” Murphy says when she leaves, “coinciding with the nomination.”
Caleb grabs a roll. “Not at all. This has been in the works for some time. We were waiting to find the right candidate.”
My stomach sinks before Murphy’s even turned to me. I already know what question he’ll ask next.
“And is there some way,” he says to me, “in whichyouwere uniquely qualified to address the problem?”
No. I’m in no way uniquely or evengenericallyqualified, and while I could probably shut this guy up by admittingwhosedaughter I am—and that I’ve watched and read hundreds of my father’s interviews and spent many, many weeks of my childhood silently listening to him lead the conference calls Ruth was on as his head of Human Resources—that’s not the path I want to take.
“I don’t know if I can claim to be uniquely qualified,” I reply with my best beauty pageant smile, “but one thing I understand better than most is the importance of belonging, and how vital it is for any company to find ways to make the office feel like an offshoot of home, especially when your employees are young. Because it’s easy when you’re young to leave a job, but it’s harder to leave a family.”
