Shipped(77)

“Evans,” a voice barks behind me, and I nearly drop my phone. James is scowling at me from over my cubicle wall, his ruddy cheeks barely clearing it. “My office, ten minutes.”

My heartbeat gallops. Could this be about the promotion? I’m not scheduled for a meeting with James to formally present my proposal until this afternoon.

Eight minutes later I’m standing at Barbara’s desk, a notepad, phone, and pen tucked against my chest. “Do you know what this is about?” I murmur.

She shrugs. “No clue, honey.”

“Mood?”

“Smug.”

“And that’s different how?”

She grins. “Not as much stink face as usual.”

My shoulders relax a fraction as I suck in a deep breath. “Here we go,” I mouth. Barbara gives me a mock salute as I knock on James’s door.

“Come in,” he barks.

I enter his office. He doesn’t look at me as I cross the room and fold myself into one of his square orange chairs. Instead, he clicks his mouse, eyes glued to his computer screen. After what feels like an eternity, but is probably only ten seconds, he removes his wire-framed glasses and tosses them onto the desk.

“I’ve reviewed your and Graeme’s proposals—” he begins, but a familiar voice from the phone on his desk cuts him off. My breath catches.

“Excuse me, James. Henley, I’m on the line too. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Graeme,” I acknowledge. My voice cracks and I clear my throat.

James squeezes his pale lips into a thin line. With deliberate slowness, he picks up his glasses, wipes the lens with a cloth he pulls from his shirt pocket, and settles deeper into his leather office chair.

“As I was saying, I’ve reviewed your written proposals and I’ve reached a decision. Graeme, congratulations. You’re our new director of digital marketing.”

“What?” I splutter. “I thought I’d have a chance to present—”

“That was before I read your proposal. Henley, what was your assignment?”

I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “To come up with a way to use digital marketing to increase sales for cruises in the Galápagos.”

“When you called me with your harebrained idea to solicit shipboard donations for a local nonprofit, I was skeptical, to say the least. I failed to see how supporting philanthropic efforts related to increasing sales. I didn’t say anything at the time because I wanted to give you a chance to prove yourself. But your proposal has done nothing to convince me that this is the best use of our company’s resources. It’s a cute idea, nothing more.”

“Are you serious? Her idea is fantastic, and if you can’t see that—” Graeme cuts in, but I talk over him before he can say something he’ll regret.

“James, shifting to ecotourism in the Galápagos would be a strong move for us. As you can see from the proposal, I’ve run the numbers, and—”

James smacks the desk, startling me into silence.

“You are not the chief marketing officer here. I am. And the last thing I want in a director, someone who reports to me, is insubordination. You did not follow the parameters of the assignment. Therefore, you will not get the promotion. End of discussion.”

“Now, wait just a minute—” Graeme begins.

“No, it’s fine, Graeme.” My throat tightens, choking on the flood of disappointment. I have to cough twice before I can speak again. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, James. Thank you for considering me. Graeme, congratulations.”

I rise on unsteady legs and cross to the door.

“Don’t worry, Henley,” James simpers behind me. “Maybe another opportunity will arise. In the meantime, you keep that nose to the grindstone and do your job. And if you keep working like the busy little bee you are, who knows what can happen for you.”

I don’t look at him as I shove through the door. Barbara stands when she sees me, her smile fading into a frown of concern. “Hey, what happened?”

“I didn’t get it.” My voice hitches. The words echo in my brain like the gong of a mourning bell.

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I’m so not fine. Oh God, the tears. They’re coming. I wave off Barbara as I fight back a sob and make a dash for the bathroom.

I’m crying at work. This day could not get any worse.

Hustling down the hall, I shoulder my way into the ladies’ room, which is, thankfully, empty. My heels click against the white-and-black marble as I pace the length of the room. I can’t seem to get enough air. Disappointment clogs my lungs like coal dust. I take a deep, shuddering breath.

My phone vibrates from where it’s pressed against my chest. Through my tears, I catch the name on my screen. Graeme is calling. A sliver of happiness threads through the pain in my heart. He won the promotion. He wanted it as badly as I did, and he got it. Shock flickers through me. I can’t believe I’m legitimately happy for him.

And now he’ll be moving to Seattle.

My emotions churn and froth like a whirlpool, but beneath it all, longing bobs to the surface. To hear his voice…

The bathroom door opens and Christina enters. I send the call to voice mail and dash the tears from my cheek. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at lunch?” My voice is as wobbly as my knees.