Christmas on Inishmore, page 3
“I know it isn’t ideal to go radio silent in the middle of a big launch like this,” said Beth. “And I’m sure there are some PR managers who would tell you to run with this—‘any publicity is good publicity’ and all that. We can certainly try that tactic. But I’m worried about you, Emma. This launch was already hard on you, with the constant travel, and I just know you haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Good catch,” smiled Emma. “I thought I was hiding it pretty well, but yeah. The past few months haven’t exactly been good for my health.”
“I just think it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to take this as an opportunity to get some rest. To recuperate your energy for the next big thing, the next big media press, which you know is going to be never-ending.”
Emma shook her head. “I like the thought of disappearing while all this is going down as much as the next disgraced CEO would, but I just don’t think it’s possible. SLICE needs to keep moving forward. Pulling back could be a death sentence. It could give this Chad Bradley guy the exact opportunity he’s wanting to steal the whole thing for himself.”
“SLICE does need to keep moving forward.” Beth was nodding, with a tight-lipped smile on her face. “We’ll come up with a more solid plan, but my initial thoughts are that I can keep dealing with the press and we can have someone else—maybe Dean?—talking up the app in an interview. What do you think?”
“I know you’re good at your job, Beth,” said Emma. “I’m not worried about that. It just seems like a lot of pressure for the two of you and a pretty terrible example of leadership from me if I fade into the background.”
“Not at all,” Beth shook her head. “Whatever you end up doing is going to be what’s best for the company. You’re not running away; we’re all making a decision together. Why don’t we get Dean and the other stakeholders on a conference call this afternoon to talk it out?”
“Absolutely,” Emma agreed. “Before that, I need a shower and a hefty dose of caffeine. Are you coming with me to my apartment?”
Beth nodded. “I am. I can do some work there while you get cleaned up, if that’s alright with you. And I can make you coffee, assuming your coffee machine isn’t too space agey.”
At one o’clock, Emma was logged into the online conference call platform, waiting for the others to join. She had showered to wash the restless evening and hours of travel off of her and was drinking the second oat milk latte of the day. Beth had figured out how to use her espresso machine and milk foamer like a natural, and the beverage was as comforting as it was caffeinating.
Emma took another sip as SLICE’s investors made small talk with each other. She had been fortunate as a young founder to stumble on these three individuals who had helped make her dream a reality, and even more fortunate that they’d all taken an interest in the app and continued to share their business expertise with her. They had become friendly with each other over the last few years, too, and these types of calls always had the vague feeling of a family reunion. Dean Fischer was a retired CEO of an obsolete personal computer company. He was Emma’s go-to source of answers for all the unique challenges that her work brought up, the head of the virtual table. Carol Calloway and Mark Aimes were both new to the tech field, SLICE being the first app they had invested in. All of them were experienced investors, and they each brought a hands-on approach to the work they did with SLICE.
“How are you doing, Emma?” Mark asked. “Beth sent us a memo, and she mentioned the possibility of having you lie low for a while.”
“That’s right.” Emma nodded to Beth, who was sitting next to her, sharing the computer screen. “And I’m doing…alright. This has been a lot to process, and it’s all a bit overwhelming.”
“We can only imagine.” Carol’s smile was warm. “If there’s anything we can do to be of service, anything at all, we’re here for you. We’re all in this together, truly.” She looked concerned, and why shouldn’t she? Her investment had helped make SLICE possible, and if it tanked now before it could have its chance in the marketplace, that investment was as good as gone.
“I’m taking the suggestion of going off-grid for a bit very seriously,” said Emma. “I think if people can separate me from SLICE, it has a better chance. But we can’t risk SLICE losing its spotlight. Beth will, of course, continue fielding my inbox and receiving any phone calls from the media. But we’re also going to need someone to be willing to go on camera, to downplay what Chad Bradley is claiming and to advocate for SLICE. Dean, I was thinking—“
Dean Fischer interjected before Emma could finish her sentence. “I’ll do it,” he said, a finality to his tone. “Of course I will. I can answer any questions they may have, and my history may help lend some credibility to the company. Beth and I can work together to present a united front. SLICE is in good hands, Emma, I promise.”
“What are you going to do, Emma?” Mark asked. “Where are you going to go?”
Emma shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not actually sure yet. This isn’t a vacation, you know? I feel guilty thinking of it that way in the least. It’s not so much about where I would like to go as it is about where I’ll attract the least attention.”
“Don’t let guilt make this decision for you,” advised Carol. “As a recovering guilt tripper myself—just ask my kids, I was the worst—all that does is turn you into a martyr. You’re having a hard enough time already. There’s no need to make it any harder.”
Dean shook his head. “I agree with Carol. Two things can be true, Emma. A place can be on your bucket list of destinations and it can also be a relatively obscure location where the media isn’t likely to find you. There’s no need to hole up in a basement apartment in some suburb just to punish yourself.”
“Ooh, I have an idea!” exclaimed Beth, grabbing Emma’s arm in excitement. “Haven’t you always wanted to go to Ireland? Wouldn’t it be just perfect and magical and festive to spend the holiday season there?”
“It does sound nice…” Despite the stress of the moment, Emma felt the faintest glimmer of excitement. “Though Dublin isn’t off the radar. There’s a pretty sizable tech community there.”
“Good thing there’s more to Ireland than just Dublin then,” said Dean. “My sister and her family spent their summer vacation in Galway, exploring all the sites around there. There are even some islands…the Aran Islands, I think they’re called…very rustic, very very off the grid.”
“That sounds like it’s worth looking into, Emma,” said Carol. Mark was nodding along with her.
Emma shrugged. “Okay, then. I guess that settles it. I’m going to Ireland!”
“You’re what?” Claire was incredulous.
Emma had invited her over to update her on what was happening…and ask for her advice on packing. Emma had already booked a flight, leaving at the end of the week, and she had a lot to get done between now and then.
First and foremost, she had to get her best friend on board with her plans.
“I’m going to Ireland…to Galway, actually. I’m going to stay there for two weeks, and then I’ll fly back in time for Christmas. I’ve already started planning the days there. I’m going to explore Galway, of course, take a day or two each to go to Sligo, Donegal, Connemara…oh! And have you heard of the Aran Islands? They’re otherworldly, Claire. Like going back in time. So rustic, so remote…I think there are even people there who speak Irish on a day-to-day basis. This is going to be really good, Claire.”
“If you say so.” Claire didn’t look like she believed Emma’s assessment of the situation, and Emma was running out of time and patience to convince her.
“Look, Claire. Here’s the deal. The investors, Beth, basically everyone at SLICE, decided it would be for the best if I disappeared for a while. Not forever…just for a while. Just until things settle down a bit. I don’t want to go someplace where I’ll be spotted or attract any attention, and I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.”
“Yeah, I mean, it sounds like it makes sense, at face value at least. Are you sure this is what you want to do? Can’t you just go on some morning shows and dismiss this whole thing?”
Emma shook her head. “I mean, I probably could. It’s not like I must leave in order for this to blow over. But the team and I, well, it made sense to all of us to just take this as a warning, essentially. It’s a warning that I need a break before I burn out. And if I’m the one staying behind and cleaning up this mess, then that burnout is right around the corner. If I take a little time away and let Beth do the job that I pay her to do…well, I’m pretty sure she can handle this better than I can.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Claire asked.
Emma groaned. “I don’t know, Claire. I’m probably just overreacting, because all of this is so damn weird. I’m leaving SLICE in capable hands with Beth and Dean. I think they’ll make a good team, and I know the company can survive without me.” She groaned. “I just feel like a new parent leaving my baby with a sitter for the first time. What if something goes wrong? What if they need my help but they can’t reach me?”
Claire smiled. “That’s an interesting metaphor, Em. In what ways does the social media app you invented resemble a defenseless newborn who can’t walk, feed itself, or survive without assistance? Please, tell me more…I’m very curious about this.”
“You know what I mean. It’s not like everything is going to fall apart without me…but what if everything falls apart without me?”
Claire scoffed. “If your company can’t survive without you, you’ve got a real problem, friend. You’re just talking about two weeks right now, sure, but…if you have to be involved day to day in every single decision…well, I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to be a terrible boss. When you hire people to work for you—like you’ve already done with Beth, if I may remind you—you’ve got to trust them. Otherwise, if you’re standing over them, breathing down their necks, you’re not going to be keeping your employees for very long.”
“Am I really in danger of becoming a Mr. Miller?” Emma’s eyes widened with terror.
When she and Claire had first met, they had both been working in the same office on Wall Street. Their supervisor, Mr. Miller, had been a master micromanager, to the point where his hovering bordered on bullying behavior. Neither Emma nor Claire had lasted long in that role, Emma doubling up on classes to finish her computer engineering degree as quickly as she could and Claire spending her evenings honing her craft as a writer. After Emma graduated and Claire sold her first manuscript, the two had celebrated with mimosas over the classifieds. Neither one had been able to launch straight into their dream job after that, but they’d at least been able to find part-time jobs that didn’t make them want to pull their hair out.
“If you’re not careful,” said Claire. “Don’t take it personally. We all have that tendency in us, I’m pretty sure. I’m just warning you before it gets too late or you go too far down that path.”
“Thanks.” Emma exhaled with relief… The last thing she needed to do was subject her work relationships to the same brutal beating her circadian rhythm and overall health were taking. “So I guess that means you’re convinced I need to take this trip to Ireland.”
Claire nodded. “I am. You just better be back by Christmas. If you miss our Christmas Eve Eve movie marathon, you’ll be in the doghouse for sure.”
Emma laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Anyway, I already booked my flight. I’m coming back on December 22nd—also known as Christmas Eve Eve Eve, if you’re into that kind of thing. I’ll be rested and ready for the cheesy movie marathon, don’t you worry.”
“Good,” said Claire. “Then you have my blessing.”
Emma hugged her friend, feeling happier than she had since she got off the stage in Austin. “Now that we’ve settled that, do you think you can help me pack? I keep looking at the forecast for Galway, but somehow it’s not translating into what I actually need to bring. Is it going to be the same weather there as here? Colder? Warmer? Wetter? I don’t even know. Can you tell I’ve never traveled internationally? Is it obvious?” She laughed at herself, shaking her head.
“It’s a little obvious, but it’s very charming,” said Claire. “I think the key to a good packing job is always layers. Now let’s get you ready for your Irish adventure…”
Four
Emma’s flight left from JFK airport in the early afternoon, and Claire had been kind enough to drive her. Outside the departures area, Claire got out of the car just long enough to hug her friend and wish her well—any longer than that and the overly attentive security guards were bound to send her away for dawdling too long in the unloading zone.
“Have a safe flight, Em,” said Claire. “I’m glad you’re getting to have a little adventure in your life, even if it’s under these circumstances.”
Emma agreed and hugged Claire back, thanking her for the ride. The circumstances had continued to be bizarre, indeed. Chad Bradley was riding the wave of media appearances, it seemed, his story getting more dramatic with every retelling. As far as Emma could tell, Beth and Dean were playing things cool, presenting a front of composure and being unbothered by Chad Bradley’s claims. The goal was to take all the air out of his case by showing how little credence they gave it, but it didn’t seem to be working yet.
“Oh, there’s one last thing,” said Claire, reaching into her purse. She pulled out an old flip phone and a disposable camera and handed them to Emma. “Take these and give me your phone.”
“What?” asked Emma, gripping more tightly onto the phone in her hand. “Why?”
“You don’t need to be following what’s going on with SLICE every minute of the day. This phone doesn’t have internet access, but it has international calling. And the camera, well…I figured you’d still want to take a few photos, even if you can’t take a thousand. You can talk to me anytime you want—though please keep the time difference in mind. And if you absolutely must, you can call Beth and Dean. But if you bring that smartphone with you, I guarantee you’ll be spending way more time scrolling through the news—or through your SLICE feed—than you should. Take a proper vacation, Emma. It’ll do you some good.”
Emma laughed humorlessly. “A proper vacation? Don’t you mean a proper banishment from this mess of my own creation?”
Claire glanced over her shoulder at the security guard who’d been eyeballing her since she put her car in park. “We don’t have time to do this whole dance, Emma. Just give me your phone, take this one, and be on your way. Okay?”
Emma’s sigh was exasperated. “Fine. I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. Are you at least going to give this number to the people who need to reach me?”
“I will,” Claire nodded. “By which I mean I’ll give it to your parents and no one else. I’ll hang onto your phone in case there’s any other kind of emergency, though I can’t imagine what that could be.”
“Can I still check my email, or is that forbidden?”
Claire laughed. “This isn’t some kind of challenge I’m assigning you, Em. You can do anything you want. You’ll just have to go to an internet cafe to do it. Or borrow a stranger’s phone. Or go to a library. Heck, I don’t know how public internet access works in Ireland. But if you can’t handle being disconnected, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“This is cruel and unusual punishment, Claire,” said Emma, her chin dropping in horror. “You know that, right? I work in tech, for crying out loud!”
“Like I could ever forget that,” Claire responded. “This is going to be good for you. When was the last time you spent even a day without your phone, anyway? Yeah, that’s about what I thought.”
Emma groaned. “I wish I had known you were going to pull a stunt like this.”
“Then what? You would have snuck a tablet or a laptop into your carry-on, I’m pretty sure. No, this is the way it had to be. And…I’ve got to go. I’ve been parked here long enough that the security guard over there is getting close to yelling at me or arresting me. Either way, I don’t want to find out. Have a great trip, text me when you land. I’ll see you when you’re back.” Claire pulled Emma in for a quick hug, then turned on her heel and marched back to her car. “And have some fun in the meantime!”
Emma found herself abruptly alone, standing in front of the airport with a suitcase in each hand and an ancient flip phone jammed into her back pocket. This trip had just gotten a lot more interesting, and she didn’t know whether to thank Claire for her intervention or try to hex her using her brain power and complete lack of knowledge of how to put a hex on a person. Opting to make the best of the situation, Emma slid on her sunglasses, adjusted her baseball cap, and made her way into the airport and towards the check-in desk.
Cashing in the airline miles she’d been saving up for ages had paid off—Emma was seated in first class for the first time in her life. The plane hadn’t even finished boarding yet, and she was already convinced this was the best flight she’d ever been on. She watched the rest of the passengers file onto the plane while sipping a mimosa—complimentary, of course—and reading the first few pages of the chick lit novel she’d picked up at the airport bookstore.
She was about to check her email one last time—she was a religious believer in switching off your cell phone during the flight, no matter how many times the flight attendants told her it only needed to be off during takeoff and landing—when she pulled the phone out of her back pocket and groaned. This wasn’t her phone at all. This was an ancient piece of outdated technology, and it was some sort of terrible miracle that Claire had even found it.
Thinking of Claire, Emma sent her one last message before the plane doors closed. “This phone is a hunk of junk, but I still love you. Thanks for the ride, and I’ll text you from the other side of the ocean.”
“Love you back. Have a wonderful, sexy time on the Emerald Isle,” was Claire’s response. There were a series of boxes with question marks in them at the end of the text, and Emma supposed those were emojis. Claire must have overestimated the ability of Emma’s new phone to receive modern hieroglyphics.
