What She Never Said Read online

  For a moment, there’s a crack in my armor. A shaft of light pierces through. When Doug left me years ago, my life fell apart in a snap. I went from school volunteer and mommy shuttle to a harried working woman. I couldn’t figure out the juggling at first. It seemed impossible to me. But through hard work and determination, I eventually came out on top. No reason that can’t happen for Selena. Absolutely no reason at all. “Your paperwork is all in order?” I ask, picturing the contents of her HR file.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a green card?”

  “No,” she says proudly. “I don’t need one. I was born in Santa Barbara, and so were my niños. This is our home.”

  “Oh.” I think on that for a moment. “So, why didn’t you sponsor your husband? I mean, shouldn’t he have applied for a green card years ago?”

  “Yes, but . . . he got in trouble when he was a teenager. He was hanging around with a bad group of boys. It wasn’t anything terrible. He only took one beer.”

  “So, he never tried?”

  She shakes her head. “He was worried his old arrest might come up. And then the years went by, and we didn’t think about it anymore, and then . . .” Her tone turns pleading. “So you can see I need a better schedule. Can you help me with that, please?”

  I slide the counseling memo across the desk. “I’m sorry for your troubles. I really am. But we’re a business, and there must be accountability. You must find a way to arrive on time.” I tap my pen against the memo. “Please read, sign, and date where indicated. You’ve been a good employee for many years. This is your first warning. I expect it to be your last.”

  Selena stares at the paper, motionless. “What about the transfer?”

  “If and when we find someone to cover your night shift, you’re welcome to apply. Now, I have a meeting to get to . . .” I glance at the door, inviting her out, but instead she speaks low and firm.

  “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to leave.”

  “Leave?” That stops me.

  “I’ve been offered a position at Peaceful Pastures. A day shift for better pay.”

  Peaceful Pastures opened its doors a year ago, a cheap replica of our high-end brand. Its motto is “Twice the fun at half the price.” But it offers half our features too. For instance, it doesn’t offer “forever care,” which is an important part of our brand. For the price of our substantial down payment, our guests are guaranteed a lifetime of care. I’m sure Peaceful Pastures neglects to reveal that fact when marketing its cut-rate deal. We’ve lost four employees to those impostors. We can’t afford to lose another. I can’t help feeling betrayed, but I work hard to control my tongue. “Maybe we can figure something out.”

  “Can you let me know this week?”

  “Yes.” I wiggle my computer mouse and open the screen. Dozens of emails have piled up. “Anything else?”

  “One thing. Loretta Thomas passed away last night.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” An email from my boss confirms our momentary meeting. I’d better hurry. I hate to be late. “Was she sick?”

  “Bone cancer.”

  “Has the family been notified?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll send a note. Anything else?”

  Selena stands and drops a pink slip of paper on my desk. “I found this.”

  I drag my gaze from the computer screen and pick up the Post-it Note. Loretta Thomas’s name is scrawled across its face and beneath it, yesterday’s date. “So?” I say, feigning disinterest.

  “Mrs. Crawley had one like that, and Mr. Taylor too.”

  “So?” I repeat. “They were all very ill.”

  “The other day I overheard Mrs. Thomas saying something to her friend about a Goodnight Club . . .”

  “A what?”

  “A Goodnight Club. She also said something about a ‘crossing.’ And she seemed upset. Do you know anything about it?”

  I level my gaze on hers. “Yes,” I lie. “It’s an exclusive club that gets together in the evenings to discuss an array of subjects.” I’ve never heard of a Goodnight Club, but one of my jobs as VP of operations is to squash rumors in the ranks. “Any more concerns you’d like to discuss?”

  “No,” she replies, looking away. “I just thought I should let you know.”

  “I appreciate that. Now go home and get some rest.”

  I wait until she leaves the office before examining the note and filing it away with the others. It is strange. She’s right. But I’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m sure it’s nothing sinister—just a disgruntled employee pulling a practical joke. Now if I can only figure out who it is.

  Three

  Monday, May 6

  I step out my office door and almost trip over a uniformed caregiver crouching low to the ground. She looks up with a smile. “Good morning, Ruth,” she says in her lilting voice.

  “Good morning, Ember.” I don’t always recall the caregiver names, but Ember’s is hard to forget. “How are you today?”

  “I’m fine.” The girl’s skin is so pale it’s almost translucent, her short-cropped hair nearly white as snow. She looks like a child playing dress-up, but she’s close to my daughter’s age. You’d think she’d be too frail to be a caregiver, but I’m told she can lift twice her weight.

  “This poor thing got caught in a web in the rafters.” She nods at the bee buzzing inside the overturned water glass she holds in her willowy hands. Straightening, she turns toward me, and I still can’t help but flinch at the sight of her disfigured face. From her right temple to her jaw, the skin sags and swirls like a lump of melted wax. Her right eye barely opens, but she’s been spared her nose and lips. I was hesitant to take her on, but I made the right choice. Despite her ghastly defect, our guests have twice voted her employee of the month.

  “Kill it,” I say. “Quite a few guests are allergic to bees.”

  “Oh no. I promise I won’t let it hurt anyone. I’ll release it outside.” She graces me with her sugar-sweet smile. Although she’s just finished her night shift, she doesn’t look the least bit tired. I bet she’s a healthy eater. Vegan? Vegetarian? I glance at her wrist. No Fitbit in sight. Maybe yoga is her thing. A seed of an idea pops into my head.

  “Can we meet this afternoon? Before your next shift?”

  “Of course. I’ll be at your office at six.”

  “Good. I’ll see you then.” Problem solved. Ember already works the night shift and seems to handle it very well. If I promote the girl to supervisor, she’s sure to accept the role. Then I’ll move Selena to a day position, and hopefully all will turn out well.

  As I continue on to the executive offices, my stomach begins to churn. There’s nothing that bothers me more than arriving late for a meeting, and I’m minutes past the designated time. But when I hurry into Bob’s office, he seems completely unconcerned.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I say. “But Selena . . .”

  “Selena?” His gaze remains fixed on his computer screen. “Which one is that?”

  I think to explain, but then I don’t. Bob’s never been interested in the staff. He leaves their problems to me. I take a seat in one of the two leather guest chairs and turn when there’s a rustling at the door. “Come in, Kai,” Bob says, still focused on his screen. “We’re just getting started.”

  Kai drops his rucksack with a thump and slides into his seat. He crosses his legs and stretches his arms wide, releasing a musky scent. He bikes to work dressed in tailored shirts, tattered jeans, and spotless Vans. A stubble beard blurs his jaw; he wears his coal-dark hair in a bun. The ride is long enough to get him sweaty, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  “Morning,” he says with a smile.

  “Good morning.” I hold my nose—metaphorically, of course. I’ve left anonymous notes in the suggestion box, but he still swims in his musky cologne.

  “I had the best weekend ever. Went skydiving with a bunch of guys from my church. How about you two? Do anything fun?”

  Bob mum
bles something, and I do the same. Kai should know by now we’re not the chitchat types. We come to work to do our jobs. Why Bob ever hired him, I’ll never understand. I was overseeing sales just fine. I examine my nails until Bob finishes up and turns to us with a sigh.

  “There’s no easy way to say this.” He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, a sign he’s not a happy man. “Serenity Acres has been sold.”

  “What?” I nearly tumble from my chair.

  “The deal is set to close at the end of the month.”

  “But how . . .” My head is swimming with questions, although the announcement comes as no real surprise. Our owners’ estate was destroyed in the Montecito mudslide, and there’ve been rumors that money is tight.

  “Who’s buying us?” Kai asks, a touch of excitement in his voice.

  “Lost Horizons.”

  He snaps to attention. “You kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “Wow! That’s fantastic.” Kai turns to me like a little kid who got hold of an ice cream cone. “You know who they are, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” Everyone knows of Lost Horizons. They’re considered the very best of the best.

  “They’re totally legit,” Kai says, almost drooling. “I did my master’s thesis on those guys. They have the highest price point in the industry, and yet their growth rate is phenomenal.”

  “Which means our rates could rise,” I say primly.

  “They will rise,” Bob says without a smile. He clearly isn’t happy, but Kai continues to babble on.

  “They’re based in Aruba and have campuses in New York, Boston, London, and Rome. Sixteen in total. And their bonuses are the highest in the industry.” Kai rubs his hands together. “On a personal level, this could be great for us.”

  Bob nods. “That may well be. But as for our guests, prices will go up after the sale. So, if you have any on the verge of signing, you may want to close them this month.”

  “Or hold them until after the sale,” Kai says. “It’ll look much better for us.”

  “That’s a selfish way to approach this.” Disdain bleeds from my tongue.

  “Or it’s practical,” Kai responds.

  “Do you care one iota for our guests?” I ask.

  “Do you?” he counters.

  Bob looks from Kai to me and back again. I know it frustrates him that the two of us bicker, but he hired Kai over my objections, so what does he expect? He gives his eyes another rub. “Kai’s right in that our new parent company is all about profits. They bought us because they see us as an underperformer. They plan to implement a number of changes, which they expect to result in growth.”

  “How much growth?” I ask cautiously.

  “Twenty percent increase in revenues in year one. Twenty-five in year two.”

  “Twenty percent?” I almost choke. “But that’s impossible. I mean, maybe in New York or Miami, but you’ll never see that here.”

  “They’re not asking. They’re telling.”

  “But with all the negative press from the fire and mudslide, our totals have been going down, not up.”

  Kai stretches his legs and taps the tips of his Vans against the bottom of Bob’s desk. “I hate to disagree with you, Ruth, but I think a 20 percent growth rate is completely within our reach.”

  I glance sideways at the village idiot. “You do?”

  “Yes, and I have the statistics to prove it.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but Bob stops me with a wave of his hand. “Enough. We can discuss the proposed changes at our weekly management meeting. In the meantime, I have one more announcement. It’s completely confidential and is not to leave this room, understand?”

  “Of course,” we reply in unison.

  He sighs and leans back in his chair. “As you know, my health hasn’t been the greatest since my incident last summer.”

  Bob’s “incident” resulted in triple-bypass surgery, and he was away from work for two months. During that time, I was promoted to acting director. I received a Silver Certificate Award for going above and beyond. It hangs front and center on my office wall.

  “So with the change in ownership, I’ve decided this would be a good time for me to retire.”

  Retire? My heart begins to race. Here it is. The goal I’ve been working toward for the past eighteen years. I picture the changes I’ll make as executive director. I’ll have this place humming in no time at all. Kai quits his tapping and sits up straight.

  “I’m sorry you’ll be leaving,” he says in one breath. “Has your replacement been identified?” he asks in the next.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Then I’d like to be considered for the position.”

  I squelch a laugh. Kai? Are you kidding me? I glance at Bob, but he doesn’t crack a smile.

  “I’ve informed Lost Horizons of my decision,” he says. “They’ll be interviewing a number of outside candidates, but they’ve indicated a preference for continuity in management, so both you and Ruth are under consideration.” Bob gives me a knowing look, and I try hard not to grin. The new management may require open interviews, but we both know who will get the job. “Corporate will be scheduling appointments with you within the next couple of weeks.”

  “Great,” Kai says. “How should we prepare?”

  “They’ve already asked for my assessment and for a copy of your HR files. But as for the actual interview, I would think you’d want to address how you might achieve their sales goals.”

  “Smart,” Kai says, jumping up. “I’ll start on that right away.”

  Out in the hallway, Kai stops me. “You think Bob’s getting pushed out?”

  “Of course not.” I hadn’t even thought of that.

  “I wonder . . . I mean, he is getting old.”

  “He is not. He’s only sixty-three.”

  “Maybe not old . . . but you have to agree, his views are old school, and from what I know of Lost Horizons, they’re looking for energy and fresh ideas.”

  My cheeks grow warm. “Bob is energetic.”

  “You think?”

  “And he’s always thinking outside of the box.”

  “If you say so. Anyway, I didn’t mean to contradict you on the growth thing, but I do think we can hit 20 percent. In fact, I’ve developed a new metric for expanding profits. I’d be happy to share my findings with you.”

  “No, thank you.” I take a tissue from my pocket and dab at my sweaty brow. My hot flashes occur at the most awkward of times. “I’ve been working in this field long enough to know what we can and cannot do.”

  He peers at me closely. “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s warm in here.”

  “I guess.” Kai takes on a sly look. “You know . . . you kind of remind me of my mom.”

  “I am not your mom.”

  “Of course not. She’s a lot younger. But she’s bright like you and also technically challenged.”

  “I’m not technologically challenged.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. My mom is really smart and good at her job. In fact, she’s one of the top fund-raisers in town. But she’s been resistant to using the advanced analytics offered by social media. I’m afraid it won’t be long before she’s passed up by her younger peers.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “That you might want to join the twenty-first century. Get those skills up to par. Anyway, I better get going. I have a potential guest to corral.” Tossing his rucksack over his shoulder, he just about skips his way down the hall.

  I stare at his scrawny back, anger clogging my throat. Then I make a beeline for my office, picturing the look on Kai’s skinny face when my promotion is announced. Along the way, I pass two young housekeepers, pushing their oversized carts. One of them is laughing loudly; the other’s face is lit with a smile.

  “Keep your voices down,” I snap. “Some of our guests like to sleep in late.”

  Their faces fall. “Yes, ma’am.” They wait until I pa
ss and then giggle. “Pendeja,” one of them whispers just loud enough for me to hear. My shoulders tighten with the insult, but I don’t have the time to deal with it now. Anyway, I reason, who are they to judge? I may be on the strict side, but in no way am I a bitch.

  Four

  Saturday, May 11

  At six on a Saturday evening, Nips overflows with a lively crowd. It’s one of those far too trendy restaurants that has popped up in Santa Barbara’s new Funk Zone. Once filled with junkyards and factories, the area’s been transformed into artsy hip. Wine bars grace every corner; craft breweries are stuffed in between. Next thing you know, there’ll be pot shops. There’ve been rumors going around.

  The restaurant is housed in a former warehouse with metal sheeting covering the walls. I’ve asked to be seated away from the bar, but the racket still deafens my ears. Not my choice for a relaxing dinner, but as usual, my daughter holds the cards.

  Alice is late, of course. She’s always late. Maddeningly, forever late. I don’t know why I find it surprising. Why I think she will ever change. Maybe because she’s almost thirty-three? And that it’s about time she grows up? Find a real job. A career. A man to settle down with. Or a woman. I really don’t care. Settle down like any regular person who knows that dreams are just that. Dreams. Sure, some people get to achieve them, but how many? One percent? Maybe two? The rest of us need to work. Just work. That’s the way life is.

  I mean, if she was going to make it as a singer, wouldn’t it have happened long before now? For God’s sake, her best friend from high school is married with her second baby on the way. I should know, because her husband, Eric, has tried to exploit that unlikely connection. Pokes his head into my office uninvited like we’re the best of friends. As if I don’t know what he’s up to. But Bob has no time for a lowly loan officer from a hapless community bank.

  The waiter appears by my side, sets down a glass of ice tea, and smiles. “Can I get you anything else?” The pearl stud in his tongue coats his words in an annoying lisp.