The Maid's Diary(27)

“Jon! Talk to me.”

“Did you already know this, Daisy?”

“Know what? What on earth are you talking about?”

“That TerraWest has hired someone new, and he’s already been brought into the HQ office, and they’re pegging him as the new COO for the Claquoosh Resort. Did your father or mother not mention it?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t keep something like that from you.”

“Wouldn’t you? I mean, maybe it was all part of the plan, Daisy—you and your parents tricking me into moving back home. Just like you stopped taking those birth control pills.”

“How dare you—”

“Forget it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Hot tears fill her eyes. “What did you mean, then? You think I tricked you into getting pregnant? And then tricked you into moving home? Why would I do that? You said this is what you wanted. A baby, a family. A fresh start. After that . . . that nightmare in Colorado.”

He sinks onto the counter stool. His shoulders slump. He rubs his face hard. “Forgive me. It was a shock last night. I’m sorry. I—I’m still trying to process, Daize.” He glances up, meets her eyes. “I think it’s a done deal. I think this other guy is getting the position.”

Daisy stares at her husband. Her world spins. “Who is this person?”

“Ahmed Waheed. Some guy much younger. Less experience.”

“Why would TerraWest do this? What’s wrong with you as the—”

“What’s wrong with me? I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Daisy. This Waheed guy is brown and I’m white—I’m a white guy nearing middle age and times have changed and everyone needs the optics of diversity. I peaked at the wrong fucking time. I fucking missed my slot. I’ve been usurped by this . . . this new wave of political correctness.”

“Jon, that’s not—”

“Isn’t it? I won two goddamn gold medals for this country. Skiing runs through my veins. I was born right here—” He jabs his fingers hard on the countertop. “Right on the flanks of these North Shore Mountains, in this very city where TerraWest was born. I was iconic. My name carried weight in this industry. It was monetized. My face and body could sell anything from beer and aftershave to toothpaste, time-shares, and lifestyles. The company—your family company—traded off my fame, off me. They’ve cashed in, and now they reckon I’m washed up because I’m not brown and don’t speak five fucking languages.”

“Don’t swear in this house, and don’t you dare bring my family into this. My father had a heart attack and he was forced to retire. This is not his decision. I bet it was decided after he retired and stepped away.”

“You know what that would mean, then? That your dad—and maybe Henry—are the only ones at TerraWest who wanted me in that COO job? Is that what you’re saying? That everyone just leaped to cut me loose the instant Labden walked out that door?”

“Have you considered that maybe this Waheed guy is a better fit?”

“Are you serious? Did you just say that?”

“Jonnie—”

“Don’t ‘Jonnie’ me.”

“I’m just saying, five languages? He sounds impressive, and given TerraWest’s renewed push into the global market, it could be that—”

“That they need a Muslim? He’s a bloody Muslim, and now they think they can check off a box.”

Anger tightens her throat. “Well, is he Muslim?”

“Probably.”

“See? You’re jumping to conclusions. You know nothing about this guy, do you?”

“And you do? Christ, Daisy. I thought at least I’d have your support. I—I need to go.” He shoves himself off the stool and moves toward the entryway.

“Please don’t walk out on me like this.”

“I’m late.” He reaches into the hall closet for his jacket.

“What about breakfast? I went to some trouble. Please sit, eat something.”

He shoots a glance at her pretty spread of eggs, toast, marmalade, juice, and ruby red grapefruit on the table. She even cut fresh flowers from the garden. Colors of fall. Oranges and yellows with sprigs of green foliage.

“That’s for Instagram, not me,” he snaps as he punches his arms into his jacket sleeves.

“That’s not fair.”

“Oh, tell me you haven’t already shot and posted photos of that breakfast on social media.” He grabs his briefcase.

Daisy is shaking inside. Filled with anger, fear, and a fierce drive to calm her husband down, placate him, fix this. Make all the nastiness go away.

“Right,” he says curtly. “It’s already on Instagram.” He reaches for the front-door handle.

“Do you want me to speak to Dad?” she calls after him as he steps out the door. “Do you want me to call him? See if he can sort this out?”

Her husband mutters something under his breath and bangs the door shut behind him. Daisy stares at the door. She hears Jon’s Audi starting up in the driveway.

Tears slide down her cheeks.



Sun flints off the glass tower, and Daisy is suddenly sparked back to the present. She realizes her eyes are filled with tears again. She swipes them quickly away and checks her watch. Relief floods her. It’s almost time to meet Vanessa at their favorite little bistro in Point Grey. Daisy begins walking back to her car. She drove to the park for some exercise by the sea, and to get out of the house while the maid came. She often meets with Vanessa on maid day.