Dear Diary by Nancy Bush Page B

the phone in its cradle.
    Thinking about you…
    Glancing at the time, Rory pushed back her chair and paced around the office, stopping to stare out her window, twenty-two floors above Seattle. In a few minutes she had to attend a meeting with Mr. Jacobson and Mr. Kern, the co-owners of Jacobson & Kern, the investment company where she worked, to find out their latest decision about selling the firm. Both men were in their eighties, had no children or other heirs and were interested in selling lock, stock and barrel. They’d weathered the ups and downs of the economy and had emerged fairly unscathed through this latest recession, which had only burnished their already sterling reputation in the Seattle financial circles. To date, they hadn’t accepted any lucrative offers to sell from businessman who somehow failed to meet their high expectations. A pending buyout had hovered like a pall for years, but so far the two men had stubbornly refused to sell, though the employees were called into meetings about twice a year to be formally told that everything was business as usual.
    While Rory watched the traffic, her mind moved from the upcoming meeting back to Nick’s message. She hadn’t heard from him in what? Five years? Six? The last time he’d phoned had been during the worst of his divorce and not long after his father’s death. It had been a rushed conversation, leaving more unsaid than said. Then he up and moved from Seattle to San Francisco before Rory even had a chance to commiserate. That was at least six years ago. Actually probably closer to seven. Rory had written him several emails during that time, but he never responded. She’d been right to think their friendship had ended with his marriage. Even his divorce hadn’t resurrected it.
    Her phone buzzed imperatively. “Don Tisdale’s just come from Mr. Kern’s office and he’s moving fast toward your office,” Pamela, the floor receptionist, revealed in an undertone on the intercom.
    Rory’s lips twisted. “I’m ready,” she said.
    “Five, four, three, two—”
    The door to her office blew open. Don Tisdale, immaculate in a three-piece dark pinstripe suit, charged forward, his normally perfect, plastered-down, brown hair frayed and standing on end.
    “Bingo,” Pamela murmured and clicked off.
    “I just talked with Mr. Kern,” Don began without preamble. “They sold!”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, Jacobson & Kern. They sold the company!”
    “No.” Rory was astounded. “They couldn’t have. We would have known about it before.”
    “That’s what I said,” Don sputtered. “After all the rumors about this person or that person, or this company or that company… I just never believed they’d go through with it.” Don was beside himself. “They signed the papers last night.”
    Rory sank down into her desk chair, her mind racing. Don had been with Jacobson & Kern for years; Rory since out of college. Neither was eager to have new employers, nor did they want to beat the street for an equitable position with another firm.
    “I guess this isn’t really a surprise,” she said slowly.
    He made a strangled sound. “Yes, it is. The whole damn company’s been pulled out from under us!”
    “We’re still employed.”
    His face turned so red he looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel. “But for how long? In this economy? We might as well kiss our asses goodbye.”
    Rory remained calm. Over the ten years she and Don had worked together, she’d gotten used to his tantrums and outbursts. “Whoever’s bought us out will look at our work records and make their decision on that. There’s no reason to get hysterical.”
    “Easy for you to say,” Don muttered, flinging himself into a chair. “You look great on paper.”
    Rory ignored him. Yes, her ten years as an investment advisor had awarded her a nice job in an enviable career. She did her job well. Not remarkably, perhaps, but soundly. People liked her. They trusted