After sending Matt the text, I walked back to the office while I waited for him to respond (what was taking him so long?), and with every block closer, the more my anxiety ramped up. Because while I had made a decision about Matt—which I couldn’t do anything about until I heard back from him—I’d also made one about the Brooke situation.
All weekend I had been running scenarios through my mind, everything from backing off and biding my time until I could build up examples showcasing Brooke’s incompetency, to going into HR today with a printout of my grievances and a plan to replace her. But none had sat quite right with me. I didn’t want to work indefinitely with someone who was gunning for my job, and willing to use my accident and aftereffects to get it. Nor did I want to end my time at the firm by marching into HR and ruining all the goodwill I’d built up. Unless I had hard proof, going in and accusing Brooke of such a thing would be the equivalent of career suicide.
It was Dr. Kay, again, who helped me figure out what to do in the end. The whole “it’s time to get back in the driver’s seat” thing had been effective, and I appreciated how right she was. I had been waiting—for someone else to sort out my mess, for my memory to reboot, for an obvious answer to every difficult question to be revealed, to get back to the Lucy I had been before the slip and fall. And by letting everyone else—my parents, Jenny, Alex, Brooke, Daniel and Matt—drive the car for me, things had gotten seriously off track.
“Even though I know nothing about cars,” Dr. Kay had said with a laugh at the end of our session. “Let’s stick with this analogy for a moment. You, Lucy Sparks, have the map. You always have—it’s been inside you all along, even if you can’t remember every street name, or shortcut, or which route is free of construction delays. So when you’re feeling confused, or angry, or lost, remember—you have the map.”
It was time to make my own choices, and good or bad I would deal with them. Finally back at the office, I answered outstanding messages and emails, shared a quick coffee with Mary in the break room, then typed out the letter I’d been writing in my head for the past couple of hours.
* * *
“Lucy, hello,” Greg said when I knocked on his door later that afternoon. “Come on in.” He gestured at the chairs in the sitting nook in his office and got up from his desk to join me as I sat down.
“How are you doing?” he asked, his brow crinkling.
“Well. Thanks for asking,” I replied. Then I got right to it, didn’t want to spend time on idle chitchat knowing what had to come next. “This isn’t easy for me, Greg, because I’ve loved working here. And I wanted to tell you directly because you’ve been a great mentor to me over the years.” Without another word I handed him the envelope, which he opened, unfolding the letter inside. I watched his face as he read the short note, which I had signed only minutes earlier, hoping I was doing the right thing.
“I have another copy for HR, which I’ll drop off to Susan after we’re done here,” I said. Greg folded the letter and nodded. “I also wanted you to know I’m not leaving Jameson Porter for another firm. This isn’t about me being unhappy with my job, or this place.”
“And I don’t suppose I can change your mind?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I appreciate you’d even try,” I said. “I know it’s been difficult, having me out for so long and then only back for a couple of weeks.”
“Is there anything we could have done differently, Lucy?” I suspected a similar question would come from Susan, but the tone would be different. From Greg it was meant as an almost-apology—the timing of my resignation so close to my return, he was concerned they had let me down by reintegrating me too quickly. But Susan would be worried I had already had an informal conversation with an employment attorney.
“Nothing at all. You’ve all been wonderful,” I said. “And not just recently. For the past four years, too.” I stood and held out my hand, which Greg shook warmly. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
“Thank you, Lucy. We’re going to miss you around here. Especially me. No one writes up a report quite like you do.” He smiled.
“Well, you still have me for two weeks, so it’s not goodbye yet.” I returned his smile. “I do have a couple of suggestions for who might be a great fit for the job. And Brooke will be a fantastic resource for whomever you choose. You’ll definitely want to keep her where she is. I would have been lost without her help these past couple of months.”
“That’s good to hear,” Greg said, and if he sensed anything other than my absolute support for Brooke, he didn’t show it. “And I agree. Why don’t you put some thoughts together and let’s have lunch later this week to discuss. Sound like a plan?”
“It does,” I said, thanking him again before leaving his office and heading to Susan’s. After I gave her the other copy of my resignation letter—Susan was glad to hear I didn’t have any formal grievances to file—I went back to my office, smiling at Brooke when I stopped by her door.
“Hey, Brooke, thanks again for handling that release for Greg the other day. Glad we caught it before the outlets turned it around.” I cringed for effect. “It would have been a nightmare.”
“No problem at all,” she said. “Happy to help.”
Then I frowned, gave her a confused look. “But the strangest thing about that. It was a duplicate. For some reason a few of my recent releases all had old client names in them, and I found two versions of each. Any idea what happened there? I mean, you were the one who sent it to Greg for me, so I thought maybe you might know.”
“I have no idea,” she said, her frown matching mine. I could tell she knew I was onto her, but was working hard to hide it. “That is strange. Maybe it was a program bug?”
“Maybe.” I waved my hand, as if shelving my concern. “But no worries. I figured it out and fixed them, and explained everything to Greg and Susan. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“Oh, let’s hope not.” She looked somewhat stunned, which, I have to say, made it even easier to smile.
“See you for the meeting at three?” I said, and she nodded mutely, realizing she was being dismissed. I felt great as I settled back into my office—I was liking this new, in-control Lucy and considered maybe it was some sort of electron magic from my mini earthing experiment—and then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Excited (and nervous) that Matt had finally gotten back to me, I grabbed for my phone and read the message. But it wasn’t from Matt; it was from Daniel.
I need to talk to you. Please come over tonight—9:00 p.m. I’m here alone.
He had written his address and closed the message with two simple words.
Please come.
And though I knew I shouldn’t have gone, I found myself standing outside Daniel London’s house and ringing the doorbell at 8:58 p.m.