Jan Freed - The Last Man In Texas

She could see he believed his claim. Somehow that made her feel worse.

“Besides,” he continued in a wounded tone, “I would think your compensation package speaks for itself.”

God, she’d been such a fool. “I rest my case.”

“Case?”

“That’s right, case. As in, evidence submitted and reviewed.”

“Pardon me if I didn’t realize I was on trial.”

“Actually, the trial is over. I’ve already reached a verdict.” She switched off her computer and leaned back in her chair. “Guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“You heard me.”

His face might’ve been carved from granite, but for the telltale tic of a muscle in one cheek. “Mind if I ask of what charge?”

“False advertising.”

“What?”

The old Elizabeth would’ve scrambled to defuse his rising temper. “You really should get your hearing checked,” the new Elizabeth said.

“Try speaking in English instead of riddles this time.”

“Okay. You aren’t the man you pretend to be. In other words, Cameron, you’re a fraud.”

He turned chalky beneath his tan. A dramatic response to her theatrical pronouncement, but not the one she’d expected. Was that fear clouding his eyes?

She studied him closer.

Good grief, it was fear! Shockingly vulnerable. Desperately defiant. Why on earth did Cameron feel so threatened? Elizabeth wondered, shaken at her lack of knowledge. She’d never seen the wolf backed into a corner before.

His upper lip curled in a near snarl. “You want to translate that into plain English this time?”

She struggled to collect her thoughts. “You’ve purposely deceived me since college, when you talked me into ‘joining’ the start-up of a new business on the ground floor level. When it suits your purpose, you’re big on the concept of teamwork, and delegating responsibility to the employee trained for the task, and rewarding staff through stock options as well as promotions. The sad thing is, I fell for the whole spiel. I even believed I could one day own a piece of the company, like you implied.

“But that won’t ever happen, will it, Cameron? Because in the real world, you can’t tolerate sitting back and giving me, or any other staff member, autonomy to make decisions that might affect the future of Malloy Marketing. My title of vice president is mere window dressing.”

His relief was obvious, dismissive and insulting. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the best analytical marketing mind in the business.”

“Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity, since you won’t let me analyze this company’s financial data.”

“So analyze it! Hell, review the accounting reports until you go cross-eyed, if that’ll make you stop this nonsense about resigning.”

Unbelievable. “It won’t. I’ve made my decision. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

He eyed her warily for a long, tense moment. “But…you can’t quit.”

“Watch me.”

A thunderous scowl rolled onto his face and gathered force. “Who will finish the SkyHawk marketing plan?”

And there, at long last, was her true net worth to Cameron. “Farm it out,” she said in a dull tone.

“With the final selection meeting four weeks away? Jeez, it would take that long just to get someone else up to speed on the research! You know Ad Ventures will pull out all the stops during their presentation.”

“Just like I know you will, Cameron. And the selection committee will be dazzled.” Unlike some agencies, Malloy Marketing only sent one person to represent the account team in final presentations. Cameron needed no backup. Men responded to his charisma as much as women. It really was true that all the world loved a winner.

“Lizzy, if Malloy Marketing goes in with a half-ass analysis of the airline travel market, we can kiss that account goodbye.”

“What’s this we business? My name’s not on the letterhead, remember?”

“Would you forget what I said, goddamn it, and listen to what I’m saying!”

“You’re the one going deaf, not me. Read…my…lips. You have two weeks to hire my replacement. Unless, of course, you prefer that I leave immediately.”

Feigning indifference, she busied herself with straightening the towering contents of her in box.

“Lizzy, think. It might take you as long as a year to land a comparable position. Are you honestly prepared to give up a VP title, top salary and cush working conditions on the basis of one stupid fight?”

She thought of the headhunters eager for her call. “Yes.”

“Then I hope you’ve got cable TV. That’s a lot of time on your hands to spend alone.”

Her fussy movements stilled. “What makes you think I’ll be alone?”

“No offense, but your social life isn’t exactly active. By choice, I’m sure,” he added hastily and much too late. His expression gentled. “I’d worry about you, honey. I only want what’s best for you. Won’t you please forgive me and stay where you belong?”

Ten years she’d waited for him to call her “honey,” to see his eyes warm with tenderness, to hear his voice soften to a bedroom croon. But not out of pity. Oh, God, she couldn’t bear his pity.

Deep in that place where insecurity and pride waged war in a woman’s soul, the latter raised a mighty sword and sounded a Valkyrie battle cry.

Responding, Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I do forgive you. But you were absolutely right. I have been hiding in my nice safe world—” she lifted a forestalling palm “—no, don’t apologize again. And please don’t worry about me when I leave Malloy Marketing. There’s no need. I won’t be alone with my cable channels. Along with finding a new job, I’ll be starting a second career. The most exciting and challenging career any woman with no previous experience can have.”

“And in plain English that would mean…?”

That I’m through settling for what I can get. That I’m going after what I want. That from this moment on, you’re going to see Elizabeth, the woman—not Lizzy, the girl Friday.

“It means that I’m getting married, Cameron. If you really want what’s best for me, you’ll wish me well.”

AT HER POST behind the lobby reception counter, Rachel Rosenfeld punched the last blinking light on the telephone console. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Richmond, but Elizabeth is still unavailable. Would you like me to interrupt her meeting?”

A long-suffering sigh whuffled in Rachel’s ear.

“No. Just tell her I called again, and that it’s important. You won’t forget, now, will you?” Her tone implied that her messages in the past had never been relayed.

Rachel suppressed a peeved sigh of her own. “No, Mrs. Richmond, I won’t forget. But if you’re worried that I will, she checks her voice mail regularly if you’d like to leave a personal message.” Hint, hint.

“Well…” For an amazing few seconds, Elizabeth’s mother seemed to consider dipping a toe into the current century. “No, I hate using that thing. The beep always cuts me off before I’m halfway finished. It’s so rude.”

Rachel mentally counted to five, a trick she’d found useful when dealing with her twelve-year-old son, Ben. “I’ll see that Elizabeth gets your message the moment she’s free.”

“Thank you. I need to talk to her as soon as possible. Tell her I’ll be waiting for her call.”

Oy! “Yes, I’ll tell her. Goodbye, Mrs. Richmond.” Rachel hung up before the woman could kvetch some more.

Poor Elizabeth. All she needed now was for her father to call, though he usually waited until after lunch. As the divorce settlement battle between Muriel and Jerry Richmond intensified, they sought Elizabeth’s counsel more and more often. The nud-nicks had been draining their daughter’s reserves of strength and patience for weeks. She must have finally run dry about ten minutes ago.