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“Employees are used to layoffs,” Lydia says.
“Selling the company meant I got to keep my H-1Bs on. That’s my employees in the US on a work visa. They have to maintain employment or get deported.” They had been my main priority when I’d realized how much trouble we were in. The tech world employs a lot of talent from other countries. We run on them, but the US government can be unforgiving when it comes to keeping them here. “The economy wasn’t pretty then. It’s recovered a little, but I had fifty I sponsored. Selling the company meant they still had employment, at least long enough for them to find other jobs if they needed to. I had it built into the contracts that they couldn’t lay anyone off for a year. Anyone except upper management. We were always going to have to go.”
“You protected everyone but yourself,” she points out. “You see, you have faith, Ivy Jensen.”
She was wrong about that. I wasn’t known for having faith in much of anything. “No, I have an amazing well of guilt.”
“You take these things on because deep down, you believe you can change the world. You believe you can help people. You hide behind the whole ruthless-girl-boss thing. It’s armor. You want the world to think you’re impenetrable, and I can understand that. But I worry that the world will grind you down and you’ll become your armor if you don’t have someone to lift you up. That’s what you need in a partner.” She taps the table as though enunciating the point. “You don’t need someone similar to you. You need someone who can see the opposite side, someone who can pull you out of work and remind you to live.”
“And this person exists?” This was why it wouldn’t work between Heath and me. The only thing we were compatible in was work, and if that went away, we wouldn’t need each other. He would find someone sweeter than me, someone who would take care of him and not bring never-ending drama into his life. Someone who would let him take the lead.
She sits back. “Oh, he does. The question is will you recognize him or will you pull in on yourself and let him pass you by? Or worse, push him away because deep down the one person you don’t believe deserves good things is yourself.”
The words hit me straight in the chest, and I feel them so strongly I have to deflect. “I assure you I’m very good at rewarding myself. My mom will tell you one of the reasons I had to come back home was I spent far too much money on designer things.” I still missed those pretty handbags and shoes I’d sold on consignment so I had a little money to float by on.
“Then she doesn’t understand that what you actually did was toss yourself on the fire to save your employees.” Lydia sits back, one hand on her chest. “But then I doubt you’ve explained that to many people. You know, dear, I think I need a project. Heath has told me about your friends and how close you are. Bring them by. I think I’d like to do some work, too. I can’t promise I’ll find them matches. I haven’t taken on new clients in the last few years, but I can assess what I think they should look for.”
I’m kind of happy she’s changed the subject. I don’t want her thinking I’m some kind of martyr. It isn’t true. I’d only done what most people would. “And you’ll write reports for them?”
“Assessments,” she corrects. “Just some pointers on what to look for when they decide they’re ready to find a partner. And some…what do they call it these days? Some red flags they should avoid. It’ll be fun. Amuse an old woman.”
“You are not old.” She seems so full of life. Lydia is a force of nature. After what she’d survived the year before, no one would be surprised if she lived quietly. Not Lydia Marino. Lydia is still going out with friends and having fun. Just the night before Heath and I had picked her up at the crustiest cowboy bar I’ve ever seen. I know crusty is a weird way to describe a bar, but there’s no other word for it. She’d gone out with her line dancing group, and I swear the woman had been tipsy when we’d gotten her in a cab.
“Oh, I assure you I am. I feel every year some days.” Her hand squeezes mine. “Yes, a project is exactly what I need. Please think about sending your friends to me. It would be fun to meet them.”
“Of course,” I say as she starts to walk into the room she calls the parlor. It feels like a living room to me, but with old-school furnishings. She looks perfect in it. Like it’s a place where she can hold court like the queen she is.
