any indirectly or otherwise—at least not with any regularity. I think it’s time you take a step back and reacquaint yourself with how this agency operates.”
“But this would be a demotion.” And a humiliation.
Shelley skimmed the list. It included a string of funeral homes with the unfortunate name of Forever Remembered, a low-end contemporary furniture chain whose owner insisted on serving as talent in his own television commercials, her uncle Abe’s electronics business, a fledgling falafel maker who was in the process of franchising his operation, and something called Tire World. Those were the best ones on the list.
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
Their gazes locked as she confronted the obvious. “You’re trying to make me quit.”
He stared right at her out of those blue eyes. “I prefer to think of it as giving you a chance to prove yourself the good old-fashioned way.”
She wanted to throw the list in his face and stomp out of the room. Wanted to rip it into tiny pieces and shove them down his throat one at a time. Which would be playing right into his hands.
He waited quietly, clearly expecting her to utter those two magic words that would free him of her and her salary. But he didn’t know whom he was dealing with. Shelley Schwartz had spent a lifetime refusing to do what was expected of her. She’d been resisting her parents’ plans for her since she was ten; why would she change for the man who’d stolen her business out from under her?
Wrapping her anger around her like a shield, Shelley stood. Ross Morgan did the same. Then folding the list into a tiny square, she shoved it in her purse. He didn’t think she could do anything with this list. He didn’t think she’d even try. What Ross Morgan didn’t know about her could fill an ocean.
Extending her hand, she looked him straight in the eye, the blue ones that had turned a dark velvety color; the ones that were giving absolutely nothing away.
“Thank you so much for this incredible . . . opportunity,” she said in her best Hepburn voice. “I can hardly wait to get started.”
And then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room without a backward glance.
“He gave me the absolute dregs of the advertising world. The littlest, piddliest, most ridiculous waste-of-time accounts in the history of the world.” She took a deep breath and told herself she would not cry. “He demoted me!”
Howard Mellnick made a note on the pad in front of him. “And you think he’s just trying to make you quit.”
“No, I
know
he’s trying to make me quit.”
“And so you dug in your heels.” He studied her for a long moment. “Why?”
“Because . . .” Despite years in this very chair, self-examination did not come easily. “Because nobody, and especially not Ross Morgan, is going to shove me out of my family business.”
Howard Mellnick looked up and out the window for a moment then back at her. “So you’re staying because he wants you to leave.”
“Yes! No!” She groaned. “I don’t know.” She stared at him, miserable. “Does it really matter why?”
Howard Mellnick sat back, crossed his legs, and propped his yellow pad up on his knee. Apparently this was one of those questions she was supposed to answer for herself.
“All I know is, I’m not quitting. And as crappy as that list is, I’m going to have to
do
something with it.”
He made another note on his pad. “You know, getting rid of the family dynamic and the attached emotion could prove to be a positive. If you’re not carrying any of the old baggage, you should be able to travel . . . lighter. It’s fortunate your relationship with Ross Morgan has always been strictly business.”
Shelley suspected this would be the time to tell Dr. Mellnick about her and Ross and the supply closet. Except she was still trying to blot out that memory, and there were some things that were too embarrassing to share with your shrink; even one as
“But this would be a demotion.” And a humiliation.
Shelley skimmed the list. It included a string of funeral homes with the unfortunate name of Forever Remembered, a low-end contemporary furniture chain whose owner insisted on serving as talent in his own television commercials, her uncle Abe’s electronics business, a fledgling falafel maker who was in the process of franchising his operation, and something called Tire World. Those were the best ones on the list.
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
Their gazes locked as she confronted the obvious. “You’re trying to make me quit.”
He stared right at her out of those blue eyes. “I prefer to think of it as giving you a chance to prove yourself the good old-fashioned way.”
She wanted to throw the list in his face and stomp out of the room. Wanted to rip it into tiny pieces and shove them down his throat one at a time. Which would be playing right into his hands.
He waited quietly, clearly expecting her to utter those two magic words that would free him of her and her salary. But he didn’t know whom he was dealing with. Shelley Schwartz had spent a lifetime refusing to do what was expected of her. She’d been resisting her parents’ plans for her since she was ten; why would she change for the man who’d stolen her business out from under her?
Wrapping her anger around her like a shield, Shelley stood. Ross Morgan did the same. Then folding the list into a tiny square, she shoved it in her purse. He didn’t think she could do anything with this list. He didn’t think she’d even try. What Ross Morgan didn’t know about her could fill an ocean.
Extending her hand, she looked him straight in the eye, the blue ones that had turned a dark velvety color; the ones that were giving absolutely nothing away.
“Thank you so much for this incredible . . . opportunity,” she said in her best Hepburn voice. “I can hardly wait to get started.”
And then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room without a backward glance.
“He gave me the absolute dregs of the advertising world. The littlest, piddliest, most ridiculous waste-of-time accounts in the history of the world.” She took a deep breath and told herself she would not cry. “He demoted me!”
Howard Mellnick made a note on the pad in front of him. “And you think he’s just trying to make you quit.”
“No, I
know
he’s trying to make me quit.”
“And so you dug in your heels.” He studied her for a long moment. “Why?”
“Because . . .” Despite years in this very chair, self-examination did not come easily. “Because nobody, and especially not Ross Morgan, is going to shove me out of my family business.”
Howard Mellnick looked up and out the window for a moment then back at her. “So you’re staying because he wants you to leave.”
“Yes! No!” She groaned. “I don’t know.” She stared at him, miserable. “Does it really matter why?”
Howard Mellnick sat back, crossed his legs, and propped his yellow pad up on his knee. Apparently this was one of those questions she was supposed to answer for herself.
“All I know is, I’m not quitting. And as crappy as that list is, I’m going to have to
do
something with it.”
He made another note on his pad. “You know, getting rid of the family dynamic and the attached emotion could prove to be a positive. If you’re not carrying any of the old baggage, you should be able to travel . . . lighter. It’s fortunate your relationship with Ross Morgan has always been strictly business.”
Shelley suspected this would be the time to tell Dr. Mellnick about her and Ross and the supply closet. Except she was still trying to blot out that memory, and there were some things that were too embarrassing to share with your shrink; even one as
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