She glances at Eric, as if passing the mic, and he fidgets a bit, not at all his usual, eager self. Eric’s solid on the tech, but his real skill lies in business development, whereas Abby’s happy just sitting in front of her computer all day. So she’s become my right hand on the tech side, whereas Eric is my go-to guy for client relations and business development.
My stomach twists a little, since I’m certain that his current malaise must mean that we’ve lost a client.
Turns out, though, that I’m wrong. It’s worse. And when Eric says, “Yeah, I know this is sudden, but I’m afraid I’m giving notice,” I drop into Abby’s other guest chair and turn to meet her eyes, which look as surprised as I feel.
“But,” I begin, then have to take a breath. “But I thought you liked working here.” My operation is small but busy, and both he and Abby are getting tons of exposure and experience. Working for someone like me would have been my dream job when I was just starting out. So to say this comes as a shock is an understatement.
A shock—and a problem. Because this isn’t a business I can run with just Abby at my side, not and build it the way I planned.
Not and still be a mom to my daughters the way I want to be.
Something like panic wells up in me, and I turn back to him, knowing I must sound like a needy beggar, but at this point I don’t care. “Are you sure? Eric, why? I thought you loved it here.”
“I do,” he says, and I see real frustration and sorrow on his face as he runs his fingers through his short blond hair. “I swear I wasn’t looking to move, but a buddy of mine—well, he told his boss about me, and I got a call, and, well, it’s a really great opportunity.
“And I know the timing sucks,” he says, rushing on, “but I have to be in New York by Monday. I’m really sorry, Nikki. But today has to be my last day.”
Chapter 5
“Promise me you’re not going to leave,” I say to Abby, once we’re alone in my office. We spent the last four hours with Eric, going over every single action item on his plate and making sure all of his client files are in order. Now he’s in his office packing his personal things, and Abby and I are trying to figure out where to go from here.
Or, more accurately, I’m trying to figure out where to go from here. Mostly, I’m just trying to get through the day and take it all in stride. Fortunately, there are no current client crises, and if we can just maintain that status quo for the next week or two, then maybe I can find a replacement for Eric, get myself back into a work groove, and get the business moving forward again.
“Are you kidding?” Abby says. “I’m not going anywhere. I mean, it sucks that Eric dumped this on us, but you gotta admit, it makes for a pretty good opportunity for me.” She grins as she lifts one shoulder, looking impish.
I smile. “You think?”
“Hell, yeah,” she says. “Talk about an opportunity to make myself indispensable. I mean, I pick up the slack, and you realize that you can’t live without me. I figure I’ll get a raise, a promotion, and probably a Ferrari as my Christmas bonus.”
I laugh out loud. “And that, Abby, is why you are my favorite employee in my tech department.”
She snickers. Of course we both know that she’s the only employee now in my tech department.
“Seriously,” I say. “Thanks.”
She shrugs. “Don’t worry, Nikki,” she says. “You got this.”
While she’s there in my office cheering me on, I actually believe she’s right. But as soon as she leaves, my confidence fades. How the hell am I going to pull this off? Especially since Abby—although eager and bright—doesn’t have the skill set to be indispensable. Not on the client development side of the equation, anyway.
Which means that falls on me. The phone calls. The travel. The inevitable chats over cocktails and dinner. All those things Eric was so good at. Things that I can certainly handle, but when? After Anne’s evening feeding? Before Lara’s bedtime story?
And what about all the little fires that have to be put out on a daily basis? I mean, hell. It’s not even been a day yet and Eric has already left me with a list. Not to mention all the calls I need to make to clients to tell them that I’ll be taking over their account personally until I’m certain that someone even more competent than Eric can take the reins.
The whole thing makes my stomach hurt.
I love my business, but I got into it for the tech. Because I was designing kick-ass phone and web-based apps, and had even paid for much of my college education with the income from sales across the various platforms. I wanted to keep doing that—only on a much larger scale—and I wanted the freedom to run the business the way I wanted to. So I focused on learning the business side of things, and when I was ready, I launched my small company, relying on Damien’s expertise, but not his money.
Only after the company was solidly on its feet did I license my web-based note-taking app to Stark International. The product is pretty brilliant, if I do say so myself, and since it’s utilized across all Stark International offices, affiliates, and subsidiaries, it brings in a nice income. It also requires a significant amount of time on the backend, implementing upgrades and troubleshooting.
I’d already intended to hire more people, I just hadn’t planned on it quite so soon. But with Eric’s departure, I don’t really have a choice. Between the two of us, Abby and I can service Stark International and handle any crisis that pops up with any of the apps and products I’ve designed for other clients. But we can’t take on new business.
And without new business, Fairchild Development can’t grow.
I put my elbows on my desk, then bury my face in my hands. Well, fuck.
I’m deep into my own little pity party when the alarm on my phone rings, reminding me that I’m supposed to meet Jamie for a quick drink—virgin for me—at five so that I can give her the scoop on my day. I glance at the phone and see that it’s already four-thirty.
Double fuck.
I’m sure she’s already on her way, but I snatch up the phone to call her and cancel. I hate doing that so last minute, but I plan to make a bold gesture of apology. Like giving her and Ryan access to our Lake Arrowhead house—and the wine cellar—on the weekend of their choosing.
The moment I pick it up, the phone starts ringing, and I answer without checking the screen, certain that it’s Jamie. But it’s not. It’s Sylvia.
“I wanted to check in,” she says. “How’s the first day back?”
“Not so great,” I admit, then tell her about Eric leaving.
“Well, that sucks,” Syl says, cutting straight to the chase. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Can you hire me a rock-solid team and train them?”
“Ah, yeah, no. I was thinking more along the lines of delivering chocolate.”
“Well, that’s good, too,” I say, and we both laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. Especially back when Jeffery was so little. Yesterday I thought I’d be fine, but today it feels like I’ve cut off a limb.”
“It gets easier,” she assures me. “But never easy.”
I lean back in my chair, grateful that she’s not sugarcoating the truth.
“I wouldn’t trade it for anything, though,” she continues. “Not after how I fought for this job.”
She did, too. She started out as Damien’s executive assistant, but she wanted a career in real estate and she kicked serious ass to get it. And even got Jackson along the way.
“And I had it a little easier than you,” she adds. “I mean, Ronnie already had a nanny even before Jackson and I got married. And he does a ton of his work at home.”
Jackson’s an extremely sought-after architect. And while he also has a development side to his business, that branch is mostly run by his staff, freeing him to sit at a drafting table and dream up the brilliant, cutting edge designs that launched him as a “starchitect.”
For that matter, Syl’s pretty flexible, too. She’s a project manager for Stark Real Estate D
evelopment, and though she manages a team, she also has a ton of support and flexibility. But me? I’m already feeling like I’m locked behind this desk. Because even if I hire more people, I’ll have to train them. And that will eat into my time even more.
At Stark International, there’s an HR Department to shoulder part of that load. Here, it’s all on me.
“I get that,” Syl says when I explain how I’m feeling. “But I still think it will get better. This was your first day out of the gate, Nik, and it sounds like it was a crazy one. Cut yourself some slack. I promise, you’ve got this.”
Those words are still rattling around in my head when we end the call. You’ve got this.
That’s what Abby said, too. But do I? Because despite their confidence, I’m still feeling like a surfer on stormy seas, doing everything I can just to stay upright.
I’m plowing through emails when Abby buzzes that she’s about to head out, and that she’s taking a pile of work home with her. Since Marge left at five, she promises to lock up. So I’m surprised when my door opens a few minutes later.
I glance up, expecting to see Abby with a question or some bit of news that she forgot.
Instead, it’s Jamie.
“Oh, dammit,” I blurt, and she laughs.
“Great to see you, too.”
“Sorry,” I say, immediately contrite. “I meant to call and cancel, but I got distracted. Do you hate me?”
“Yes,” she says, in true best-friend form. “My hatred for you runs deep.” She plunks herself down on the small couch in my office. “So? How’d it go?”
“Fine,” I say, because I don’t want to share my angst again, not even with Jamie.
“Rough, huh?” she says, and my shoulders sag with relief. Because of course she gets it. Jamie always gets me.
“Syl swears it’ll get easier.”