“I will.”
“Tell him we want to meet Kathy Bates!”
The last meeting of the day ended at 5:15. Cherry felt done in. She was sweating through her blouse under her wool jacket, and she’d rubbed all her eyeshadow off onto her hands.
She stayed in the conference room to gather her papers. And her defenses.
Meg Jones, Cherry’s boss, stepped into the doorway. She was wearing a cashmere coat and holding a pebbled leather satchel. She was on her way out. “You doing okay?”
Meg had been in all the meetings, too. And she was the only other person in the building who knew that Tom was gone.
“Yeah,” Cherry said, waving her hand. “Fine.”
“Are you sure? Because you look like the stock photo we used for that Employee Health brochure on depression.”
Meg Jones was in charge of all the railroad’s communications, internal and external. Cherry was her second in command.
“When It’s All Too Much,” Cherry said.
Meg nodded.
Cherry started to cry.
Meg sighed and stepped into the conference room, shutting the door behind her. “I see.”
“Sorry,” Cherry said, fanning her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I almost started crying myself when that idiot from legal wouldn’t shut up during the planning meeting.”
Cherry didn’t believe that Meg Jones hadeveralmost cried. She was the most composed woman that Cherry had ever met. (To be a female vice president at a railroad, you had to make people forget you were a woman at all.)
Cherry got a Kleenex out of her bag. “You mean when he asked if the girl fromBridgertonhad gained weight to play me?” She blew her nose. “That actress wasn’t even onBridgerton.”
Meg frowned. This was her sympathy frown, Cherry knew. They’d been working together long enough that Cherry could read all of Meg’s microexpressions.
“You know...” Meg said, “you could tell people that you’re getting a divorce. There’s no shame in it. Three-fourths of the executive team is divorced.” Meg Jones herself had been divorced twice.
Cherry shook her head and pressed her fingers into her eyes, trying to stop the tears at their source. “No. I don’t want them gossiping about me. I don’t wantthatto be the thing that gets attached to my name—‘Cherry, that fat lady in Comms who used to be married to the famous artist.’?”
“Hmph,” Meg said. “More like‘That ferocious badass in Comms who used to be married to some weird nerd.’”
Cherry rolled her eyes and kept going—“‘I heard her husband left her the second he got famous.’”
Meg frowned more deeply. Her face barely moved. “You’ve got to stop thinking like this, Cherry. You have to keep your head up and set the narrative.”
Cherry looked into Meg’s eyes. She couldn’t tell if she was getting personal advice or an order from her supervisor. With Meg Jones, there was never much distinction.
Cherry nodded. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
Meg sighed again and dug into her bag, pulling out a silk scarf. “Stop apologizing. This is the first time I’ve seen you cry about Tom.”
“I usually do it in my office with the door closed.”
“That’s what offices are for.” Meg buttoned her coat. “Didyouwatch the trailer?”
“No,” Cherry said. “I’m not going to.”
“Good mental hygiene, Cherry. There’s nothing for you there.There’s nothing for anyone—that actress has doll eyes and a face full of fillers. She can hardly blink.”
