All Her Little Secrets, page 5
As the weight of the tragedy settled in, people either worked quietly in their offices or stood around talking in muted little clumps. I quickened my pace when I spotted a small cluster of paralegals standing outside my office door. One of them, Penny Dolan, Walter Graves’s paralegal, stood alongside two other paralegals. Rudy and I called her “Pinkie Do Little” because she had a remarkable skill for getting out of work or doing anything that required her to stay past five o’clock. She watched me approach my office with her arms folded. She flipped her hair across the back of her latest 100 percent polyester outlet mall purchase. “Congratulations, Ellice.” No smile. All snark.
“Excuse me?”
She rolled her eyes and walked off from the small group.
I looked at the others. “What was that about?”
The other women scurried off like a couple cockroaches exposed by the flip of a kitchen light. Sometimes, I wished there were another Black woman who worked in the department. Just anyone else who could pull me from the edge when I wanted to jump down the throat of one of these witches. Rudy and Hardy were supportive, but it wasn’t the same.
I entered my office and closed the door behind me. I took off my coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door before I sat down at my computer and clicked it on. I started in on the emails. The first one:
INTERNAL COMMUNICATION
Date: Wednesday, January 4
To: The Houghton Transportation Family
From: Nate Ashe, Chairman & CEO
Cc: Executive Committee
It is with a heavy heart that I announce the unexpected passing of Michael Sayles, Executive Vice President & General Counsel. Michael was a tireless leader in our organization. His uncompromising ethics and intellectual prowess led the Houghton family through a number of challenges and successes. His presence will be terribly missed.
I am pleased to announce that Ellice Littlejohn has accepted the promotion to replace Michael as Executive Vice President and General Counsel. Ellice is an honors graduate of Georgetown University and Yale Law School. She has been a stellar legal business partner since joining the Houghton family three years ago. Her unwavering commitment to the Houghton family will be a tremendous asset to us all. Please join me in congratulating Ellice on this momentous achievement.
What the hell?!
I was so stunned by Nate’s email that I read it twice to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. I hadn’t accepted the offer. We agreed that I would think about it. Why would he make such an announcement?
I picked up the phone. “Hi, Sarah. It’s Ellice. I was—”
“Congratulations, Ellice,” she said, giggling into the phone.
“Uh . . . yeah . . . thanks. I’m calling to see if Nate has a few minutes. I need to speak with him. It’s rather urgent.”
“Well, if you wanna come up now, it shouldn’t be a problem. He doesn’t have a meeting for another hour.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
A flood of sunlight saturated Nate’s office with a light and airy feel. Vibrant hues in the artwork seemed to leap from the walls, bouncing off every reflective surface in the room. And the elephant in the picture above his sofa looked as if it would charge right off the wall and into the center of the room.
Nothing was as it seemed.
“Ellice, c’mon in, darlin’. Can I get ya some coffee, juice?”
“No, thank you. I wanted to talk to about the email you sent this morning. Well . . . I guess I thought you would give me a few days to think about the offer. I mean—”
“Now about that.” Nate leaned back in his chair with a wide smile and placed his feet on his desk. “I really wish we had the benefit of time. But, darlin’, Houghton has a full plate. We need a top lawyer in place ASAP. Willow always tells me I don’t have enough women on the Executive Committee.”
“I understand that. But—”
“Well, what is it? It can’t be the money. What’s your hesitation?”
I stared at Nate for a beat. I was trying to be respectful and find the right words. “It’s a huge task. I just thought I would have a bit of time to think it over.”
“Knock, knock. I don’t mean to interrupt.” I turned to find Willow standing in the door of Nate’s office. “Congratulations, Ellice!”
“Willow, I’m glad you’re here. Ellice seems a little reticent about taking the job.”
Her eyebrows arched in surprise. Willow looked at me and back at Nate before she strutted into the office and stood beside me. “Ellice, you weren’t thinking of turning us down, were you?” she said, her voice an octave higher than normal, asking as if my saying no would be a personal affront to her.
“I guess I just hadn’t expected all this so soon. Michael just died yesterday. I don’t think people have really had time to grieve the loss and now we’re announcing his replacement. I just think all this is moving a little too fast.”
“Well, the company has to continue to operate seamlessly, more so now,” Nate said.
Willow smiled and gently tapped my arm. “As an HR professional, I can tell you, you don’t want to pass up a career move like this. And whether we asked you to serve in an interim capacity or as the permanent replacement, we still need someone in charge. We just thought by moving this along, things could go back to normal as soon as possible.”
Nate removed his feet from his desk and stood. “Listen, from what I hear around the company, you’re the real brains in the Legal Department. Michael just hogged up all the sunshine for it. I know he would have wanted it this way.”
“It’s just . . . I guess I assumed . . .” Suddenly, I was at a loss for words. They had made all sorts of assumptions that I would take the job because they tossed it to me with a big bag of money. How do I explain that maybe I had planned to take the job, but it would have been nice to pretend like I had a say in my own career? Hell, I hadn’t even figured out whether I wanted to work in the same office where someone died. I didn’t believe in ghosts or bad juju, but it was still worth thinking about.
Nate smiled at me. “Take a chance on us up here on Twenty. I think you’re going to enjoy the executive suite.”
Maybe I was being foolish to even think about squandering such a huge opportunity. All my doubts were just that—doubts. Surely I was smart enough to navigate my way up on this floor. Besides, I was tired of watching people half my age and with a quarter of my intellect get promoted. It was my turn now. But I wasn’t stupid, either. I knew this promotion was more about squashing the protests in front of the building. Houghton needed a Black person in their upper ranks. Maybe in the end, we could both get what we really wanted: Houghton could shore up its horrendous reputation and I could use my position to finally convince the company to hire more people of color.
The two of them stood staring at me, optimistic smiles neatly planted on their faces. I smiled back. “I think I’m going to enjoy it, too.”
“Well now, it’s a great day for the Executive Committee,” Willow said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “As I’ve told Nate before, a company like Houghton could always use another smart woman in its executive ranks.”
Nate chuckled. “See, Ellice. What did I tell ya?”
It felt like all this had been planned long before Nate offered me the job yesterday. But how could that be? Who knew Michael would have committed suicide?
“Listen, I have a couple things I want you to make a priority,” Nate said. “Some unfinished business left over from Sayles.” Nate stared out the window for longer than a quick glance. Maybe he was having second thoughts, pangs of guilt about the warp speed at which things were moving. Everyone moving on as if Michael had meant nothing to us, as if his death were just a passing blip on the company’s radar screen.
A moment later, Nate broke his stare from the window. “I’m sorry, where were we?”
I cleared my throat. “You mentioned Michael had some unfinished business you wanted me to handle.”
“Hmm . . .” Nate sat down again and leaned back in his chair. The three of us sat in silence for a beat. “Let me think.” Nate rubbed his brow. Willow gave him a worried look. “Oh yes. Yes, I remember now. We’re getting ready for the executive retreat in two weeks. I’ll need your help getting some of the reports ready.”
“Sure.”
Willow eased the hair of her bob cut behind an ear. “Nate, did you want to mention the cocktail party this weekend for the board?”
“Ah yes, I’m glad you brought that up. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. Ellice, I’ve invited the board members and a few other folks to join me at a lil’ club we frequent down near Savannah. It’s pretty informal, just a way for me to connect with the board on a social level. With Michael’s death and all, I need to do a little hand-holding. Ya know what I mean? And what better way to do that than to have them meet the new GC? I want you to join us. It’d be a nice surprise for them.”
“Well . . . I would love to but—”
“I won’t take no for an answer. It’ll give me a chance to show you off.” Nate quickly rose and walked around his desk. He threw his arm around my shoulder. “You can take the company jet down Saturday morning and you’ll be back in Atlanta, tucked in your jammies before bedtime Saturday night. You won’t even have to stay overnight. We fly out of Brown Airfield. I’ll have Sarah get you all the details. I think everyone’s gonna love you.”
“Thanks, Nate, for the invitation. I’ll look forward to it,” I said, ever the good soldier. My weekends were supposed to be for me. The time I needed to replenish my well so I could face another Monday and the burden of being the lone “drop of brown gravy.” I maneuvered myself from under Nate’s arm. “I’d better get going.”
On the way out, I nodded politely at Sarah, a short, wiry woman in her sixties who ran Nate’s office with executive precision.
“Oh, Ellice, darlin’, hang on for a second! I have something for you,” Sarah said as she dropped a large ring of keys into her desk drawer. “You might want to start perusing these.” She reached underneath her desk and handed me several oversize sample books.
“What’s this?”
“Upholstery samples, flooring samples—you know, all the stuff Building Services needs to get your new office in order, sweetie. Now, there’s flooring, furniture, and even artwork samples if you wanna hang something pretty on the walls.”
“Oh.”
Sarah grinned sheepishly. “Congratulations. Now, sweetie, take a look at those samples and I’ll have the decorator call Anita to get some time on your calendar to go ova a few things.”
“Okay . . . thank you.”
Sarah turned her attention toward a buzzing telephone and waved good-bye as she picked up the receiver.
Struggling under the weight of the sample books, I started to feel a little heady with how things were coming together. But maybe, for a change, things were working in my favor, despite the unfathomable way this all came about.
“Whoa! Let me help you there, Legal Lady.” Hardy laughed and hustled over. He grabbed a few of the sample books. “What’s all this?”
“Apparently things to help me furnish my new office.” We walked to the elevator bank together.
“What new office?”
“So you didn’t read your emails this morning. I’m replacing Michael as GC.”
“Hey! Congratulations!”
“Well, thanks.”
We reached the elevators and Hardy pressed the call button. “You don’t seem very happy.”
“It’s not that. It’s . . . it’s all happening pretty fast.”
“Hmm . . . I get that. Maybe you can put in a good word for me, though. Max says he’s trying to get me promoted to a role on the Executive Committee, too. Vice president of Security. He says HR is dragging their feet, but it should come through any day now.”
“That’s great. Colleagues.”
“So you going out tonight to celebrate your big promotion?”
“I don’t know if I feel like celebrating. Michael’s funeral is the day after tomorrow.”
“I heard.”
The elevator pinged and we stepped on. I pushed the button for Eighteen. “It feels so weird and surreal, you know?”
“Tell me about it. The place isn’t the same without him. I feel really bad for his wife. Losing a spouse, that’s tough,” Hardy said. “Right after my Junie died, those were some of the roughest days of my life.” Hardy’s voice was soft, distant. I decided against interrupting him. I had absolutely nothing to offer in the way of empathetic words. I’d never shared anything about my personal life with anyone here at work and I wasn’t going to start with this conversation. Everybody else at Houghton considered themselves family. But they weren’t my family.
We stepped off the elevator and headed toward my office. Hardy continued, “Nobody loved me like that woman. Nobody. Not even my own mother . . .” His voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry. What happened?” I said.
“Cancer. Ovarian. In the end, it spread everywhere.” He went silent for a moment. “I’ll tell ya one thing,” he said, his voice now booming again. “I would have lost my mind if it hadn’t been for Nate. He might be the CEO, but he was right there with me through it all. He said I was family and he treated me like it, too. At the end, he was right beside me at the hospital. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that guy.”
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I really think you’re gonna like working for Nate. He’s the best.”
We arrived at my office. “Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime.” Hardy sat the sample books in one of my guest chairs and surveyed my tight office. “Looks like that new office is gonna be an upgrade.”
“Just tell me the HVAC system works better up there than down here and we’re good.” We laughed.
“Listen, you need anything, you just holler.” Hardy ambled off.
I dropped the remaining clunky books in the guest chair, plopped into my chair, and clicked on the heater under my desk. Moving up to the executive suite would be more than I’d ever taken on before and my doubts were larger than my confidence. Could I pull off the task of running an entire department? Did I really want to replace Michael and sit in the very same office where he died? Vera would have called this my “God sense” trying to warn me. I dismissed it all as nervous jitters. I would be the first Black executive vice president at Houghton.
To hell with nervous jitters.
Chapter 7
I hate funerals.
Three days after Michael’s death, I trembled as I climbed the front steps of the First Presbyterian Church of Buckhead, a small frame structure rapidly filling to capacity. News trucks were perched along the street, almost as many as the first day after his death. Grizzled and fresh-faced reporters alike stood in front of bulky video cameras and the cameramen shouldering them, speaking into microphones and pointing at the mourners. Why the sudden media interest again?
Everyone filed into the church, heads bowed, stiff-lipped and solemn. Most people headed to the front row to offer a hug and personal condolences to Anna, Michael’s wife. I couldn’t face her. I quietly slinked along the side wall before taking a seat several rows behind Michael’s family. I spotted Hardy across the aisle from me, along with the attorneys and staff from the Legal Department sprinkled in among the mourners. Despite the large crowd, only an occasional sniffle or cough broke the somber silence.
If would-be gawkers thought they’d attend, looking for the vicious evidence of Michael’s demise, Anna had other plans. No open casket with Michael’s body pumped full of formaldehyde, slathered in camouflage crème and lip tint. Thank God. At the front of the church, an oversize picture of Michael was propped on an easel. He was tanned, windswept, and smiling as he steered a sailboat. An easy and carefree shot that bumped up against the uncomfortable solitude of the sanctuary.
And the respectful solemnity of a Presbyterian service was not lost on me either. Every funeral I’d attended before this was a full-out Southern Baptist “homegoing” service, replete with wailing women screaming, Why, Jesus?, a hard-charging raspy-voiced preacher whose eulogy lasted well over an hour, and open caskets that weren’t closed until the choir’s final verse of “I’ll Fly Away.”
Michael’s two college-aged kids sat on either side of their mother, the three of them painted in a stoic canvas of familial grief along with Michael’s parents, who appeared to be in their eighties, stooped over and fragile looking. I imagined Michael’s death had provided enough personal devastation to bring his parents to the precipice of their own deaths. He was the bedrock of their family, and with him gone so unexpectedly, they were all wading into new territory without an emotional compass to guide them. Vera used to call the time right after a loved one dies the “bewitching season”—that surreal wedge of time when everyone searches for a new normal but the void is too deep and too raw, leaving you in emotional limbo.
I stared at Anna in the front row, draped in a black wool suit, her face drawn and pale, the hollow look of a woman emptied by despair. For a minute, I found it hard to believe she was the same woman who stood beside Michael at dinner parties and laughed at his jokes, no matter how many times she’d heard them before. She was my polar opposite, the dream of every American male WASP, from her pale complexion and blond chignon wound at her nape, to her petite figure maintained through what I’m sure was a zealous avoidance of carbs and a steady diet of Pilates and Barre classes.
Rudy and his wife, Kelly, came in a few minutes later. Kelly and I exchanged a cordial hug before they sat beside me, Rudy in the center. This was our usual seating arrangement at all work events that Kelly attended, lest she risk becoming a human fence over which Rudy and I would banter. They made an attractive couple. Kelly was Barbie-doll cute to Rudy’s tall Ken-doll handsome. But she was also a no-nonsense Jersey girl, too. Not like the fake, phony kind I went to school with at Coventry, either. Sometimes I wished I could hang out with the two of them more, but I tried to be mindful of appearing to play favorites among the legal staff. It was bad enough that Rudy usually spent half the day in my office gossiping.
