Good for You: A Novel (39)

If only there was a gloss that could make her smile genuine, a mascara that could turn her back into the bright-eyed woman she used to be. If she managed to keep her job, she’d have to ask Ashleigh to assign an article on magic makeup.

When the time came for the call, Aly sat at the dining room table, pen and paper in front of her, trying not to think about how high the table was and how she’d needed to place a pillow on the chair so she could write easily. Why was all furniture built for humans who were Wyatt’s size?

Then she took a deep breath and dialed. She’d forgotten how much she hated conference calls—the long string of numbers you had to punch in, which she usually messed up at least twice before getting patched through; announcing yourself to a recorder; then hearing that even though you called in four minutes early, everyone else had beat you to the punch because they didn’t have butterfingers.

But really, Aly was just trying to think about something other than the fact that she was about to lose the only thing she had left. She’d barely slept the night before and had woken feeling like a swarm of angry bees had taken up residence in her stomach, and she hadn’t been able to finish her coffee.

“Hello?” said a female voice, just as Aly said, “James?” in her most confident, take-charge tone.

“It’s Aly Jackson.”

“Aly, hello. It’s Linda Farkus. From Human Resources.”

Yes, Linda. I know who you are, thought Aly. You’re the corporate executioner.

“This is James Fox. Hi, everyone, and thanks for coming today.”

“And Leticia Allan from Legal,” chimed in an unfamiliar voice.

Of course Legal was there; they probably had to lay out all the reasons they could justify firing her.

“Aly, I hope you know how much we appreciate your dedication to the magazine,” said Linda. “But—”

“You’re letting me go,” interjected Aly. She didn’t want to sit in professional purgatory a second longer than necessary. “I know.” A whooshing sound rushed in her ears, and the ground beneath her seemed to undulate. It’s going to happen again, she thought, clinging to the edge of the table. I’m not going to remember the end of my own career.

But she didn’t blank out. And she didn’t pass out, either.

“Aly, we’re not letting you go,” said James, who sounded amused.

“You’re . . . not? But . . . you took my computer and turned off my email. And only one person has reached out to me over the past ten days.”

“This is a complicated situation, Aly,” said Linda. “We still need to clear some things up with Legal. Leticia is on the call, in case you have questions, and of course we’ll be sending you paperwork immediately after this call.”

“Paperwork?” said Aly.

“I meant it when I said we needed you, kiddo,” said James. “You’re still a part of the team. Unless you don’t want to work for Innovate?”

“James, I want to come back more than anything,” said Aly, blinking back tears. Oh, this was such incredible news! “You know the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to be All Good’s editor in chief.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes—thank goodness this wasn’t a video call! “In fact, I’ve had some time to brainstorm and think through next steps for All Good, and I’ve come up with what I think is a foolproof way for the magazine to not just survive this new media landscape, but actually thrive. I’m eager to share my insights with you whenever you’re ready.”

“So that’s the thing. Aly, we all know you’ve been through a great deal lately—”

Who was this “we all” he was referring to? Did everyone know about her brother now?

“James,” cautioned Leticia.

He cleared his throat. “However, we’re still working on getting that video taken down. You represent the All Good brand and Innovate as a company. Until the dust settles, we’d like you to fill the role of editorial director for All Good.”

“Then who will be the EIC?” she asked. The room was starting to spin again, ever so slightly.

“Meagan is the interim editor in chief,” said James. “We’ll announce it on Monday.”

Aly shook her head, the relief she’d been feeling already long gone. “You’re putting Meagan in charge?” Meagan, whose name you couldn’t even remember? “James, when you offered me the job, you said I was exactly the right person to take the magazine to the next level. I don’t mean any disrespect to Meagan, but she . . . doesn’t have the same skill set.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t, which is why you’ll be her direct supervisor.”

Translation: Aly would be doing the same job, but Meagan would get credit for it. “This is temporary, right?” said Aly feebly as she tried to reassure herself. “You said until the dust settles. When will that be, exactly?”

“I don’t have a crystal ball, kiddo.”

By which he meant: not anytime soon, and possibly never.

“But I want to be editor in chief.” Aly clapped her hand over her mouth—she hadn’t meant to blurt that out, however truthful it was.

“Change is never easy, but it’s how we grow.”

He sounded like he was reciting a line from a motivational poster. “James—”