“But who runs the day-to-day matters?”
“Jonathan and Max have things under control,” she said.
“Willow, this can’t be a long-term solution. You can’t expect to run a company like this. I mean, what are you thinking? Did Michael know about this?”
“It was Michael’s idea, honey.” Willow grinned and ate another forkful of salad.
“Michael approved of this?! Are you sure? I mean, we have an obligation to bring this to the board’s attention. I’m sure something can be worked out.”
“Leave it be, Ellice. Yesterday, before the Executive Committee meeting, I was going to give you a bit of advice. Specifically, let the guys handle things. That buzz saw you walked into yesterday with Max and Jonathan is just the sort of thing you can avoid in the future. I told Nate you were the best choice to replace Michael because this company needs someone like you.”
“You mean someone Black to shoo away the protesters?”
“I’m in HR. I don’t see race. I only see people.” She turned and scanned the room.
I rolled my eyes in frustration. If people didn’t see race, they wouldn’t have to go around saying they don’t see race. No wonder there were protesters at the front door of this place.
Willow let out a dainty sigh, like a petulant little girl. “What I mean is that we need someone who can use an artful hand in working with the guys. The way Michael did.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Sorry, but yesterday’s meeting was about as artful as I can get without turning into a doormat.” So Willow had chosen her path for survival in the executive suite, working as a second-class, deferential lieutenant to the men. That wouldn’t work for me. I would leave first.
“Trust me, Ellice, you don’t want to make waves. Jonathan’s got the company operating at a profit. Max has all our trucks at full capacity. Things are fine.”
“If things were fine, we wouldn’t have protesters out front and a murdered executive inside.”
Willow stared at me for a beat, then closed her eyes briefly and shook her head in exasperation. “Honey, you won’t last long up on Twenty with such a negative perspective. Do you want to be right or do you want to be successful up here?”
“Are you serious?”
“Trust me, it won’t help matters much if you bump up against folks around here. You’re new. Get a lay of the land first. Let Jonathan and Max run things for Nate. I think this is the way he would want it.”
“Are you guys nuts?!”
“And on that note, I’d better go check on what Nate’s up to.” Willow tossed her napkin on the table and sashayed toward the exit.
Chapter 21
I settled in on a park bench in the playground section of Piedmont Park, waiting for Rudy and watching my warm breath hit the cold air. The chilly temperature forced me to button my coat and I wished I’d brought gloves. The park was empty except for a couple of millennial moms pushing their kids on the swings and a squat older woman chasing a curly-haired blond boy, tightly bundled in a red barn jacket but no hat or gloves. Such a cold day and she hadn’t bothered to at least put a hat on him.
Watching kids play was like a guilty pleasure for me. I was a sophomore at Coventry Academy before I finally understood that giggling or singing loud and off-key was actually a part of childhood, that parents encouraged it. Once at Coventry, a girl who lived in my dormitory fell doing some silly pratfall and fractured her arm. Her father drove down to Virginia from New York City to check on her. I was studying in the common space and I eyed her as she explained to him how it all happened. He watched in amusement as she demonstrated her silliness. I was awestruck. That someone loved her enough to make such an effort and then encouraged her silliness hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. I never really cared for the girl, but from that day on, I hung out with her just so I could be close by whenever her parents visited campus.
I glanced down at an old keloid scar on the back of my hand. The skin, a slightly lighter shade of brown, puffed and twisted over itself like kneaded bread. A searing brand that reminded me of my days growing up in Chillicothe. Now, here I was—never married, no kids. With such imperfect role models for parents, I was afraid that raising one of my own would be another exercise in dysfunctional child-rearing. All the better to let my scars and wounds serve as the last remnants of the Littlejohn family imprint. Anyway, my life was fine without the traditional trappings. I have Vera, and Sam when he wasn’t off the grid. I have my law degree and my job. I’m the executive vice president and general counsel for Houghton Transportation.