The High Season(38)

“We have town restrictions, first of all,” Ruthie said. “Second, we don’t have the attendance numbers to justify it.”

“Well, that’s not my job to figure out, is it,” Mindy snapped. She had lost her sound of joyous authority and was suddenly petulant.

Ruthie consulted the list again, barely able to read it through a film of rage. “I outlined all the reasons the budget target wasn’t hit, including the insurance hike and your fundraiser in the city that went over budget—”

Mindy grew sulky. “It was a fabulous party, everyone said so.”

“Fabulous,” Gloria said.

“I loved those little crab cakes,” Helen said. “Let’s focus on the positive.”

“Is the positive on this list, Mindy?”

“This isn’t how we want this meeting to go,” Helen said with sudden firmness. “Mindy wants to do more regular check-ins with you, that’s all. We’ve always done things so informally here. She wants to put some basic structures in place. It’s like an engine check! If you wait too long, you run into problems. The light goes on while you’re on the expressway!”

    “I’m not a Toyota,” Ruthie said. “You want to fire me, and you’re setting up a case. Do you think I’m an idiot? I refuse.”

Mindy was now bright red, having gone beyond florid into maroon. “You can’t refuse. You serve at the pleasure of the board. The board has a right to set the parameters of your employment.”

“Does the full board know about this?” Ruthie asked.

“The executive committee reports to the full board,” Mindy said.

“I’m aware of how the executive committee functions. But it’s not an answer to my question.”

“Well, that’s not an appropriate question to ask.”

Helen stirred nervously. “This isn’t the Spanish Inquisition. We’re all friends here.”

“Helen, does Mindy have a plan to fire me?” Ruthie turned and looked Helen in the eye. Helen looked away.

Ruthie pushed the paper back toward Mindy with such force that it knocked the Moleskine to the floor. A piece of paper fluttered out. Ruthie put her foot on it.





LEADERSHIP TRANSITION PLAN


By Catha Shand-Lugner

Step One. Stabilize staff. Ensure smooth transition by reaching out to local publications outlining my position as new cultural leader of the North Fork.

Step Two. Set up coffee meetings with board members in descending order of annual donations.



Slowly, Ruthie picked it up.

“That’s mine!” Mindy cried. She snatched it out of Ruthie’s hand. “It’s a confidential document!”

“You’re secretly grooming my subordinate to take over my position!”

“It would be irresponsible not to have plans in place if, in fact—”

    “It is irresponsible and unethical to maneuver a director to resign while you secretly conspire with her subordinate! Who, by the way, has no museum experience outside of the Belfry.”

“She has good ideas,” Gloria said. “And a master’s degree. She went to Cornell!”

Ruthie stood. “Are you asking for my resignation?”

“Ruthie, nobody said that.” Helen reached out to her, a cookie in her hand. Ruthie was tempted to bite it. “Please sit down.”

“This is not on the timetable,” Mindy said, flustered. “We’re not absolutely prepared to negotiate your departure right now in a way that—”

“When the game is rigged, only a chump stays at the table,” Ruthie said. It was a saying of her father’s and possibly the first time she’d quoted him in her life, aside from Slice it paper-thin and thank you sir. “I can stay through the gala and leave in August.”

Mindy smoothed the Leadership Transition paper. “I don’t like to make a decision quickly, but I think it’s better if you leave and clean out your desk this weekend. Why prolong it?”

Ruthie came back to herself and realized that she was standing and that nobody was urging her to reconsider. She had fully expected Helen to smooth it all over so that eventually she could sit down and eat a cookie.

“Mindy, that’s crazy. Do you know what will happen?” Ruthie asked. “I’ve been here for ten years. People will talk. There will be pushback. Gossip. We’re in the middle of our season right now. Let’s do this in a way that’s best for the institution.”

Mindy raised her chin. “I’ll decide what is best for the institution. We’ll pay out for the rest of the summer. I’ll have my father’s attorney draw up an NDA.”

“A nondisclosure?” Ruthie’s head spun. “For what? This isn’t the CIA.”

“Is this really necessary, Mindy?” Helen asked. “This is going so fast.”

Mindy turned to Helen. “This is standard best practices.”

    “Of course,” Gloria said. “Mindy is so thorough.”

“But we aren’t this way,” Helen said, giving the two women a sharp glance. “We’ve never been this way. We should give Ruthie time. This should be done right.”

“We can discuss the details in private,” Mindy said. “I consulted my father’s attorney. This is standard.”