“Yes?” I say, torn between amusement and annoyance.
“I’ve thought it over and I think you’ll be acceptable.”
“I’m going to murder you,” I reply.
There’s a pause, and I feel like I can see his smile over the phone. “Is Saturday evening an acceptable night for murdering me?”
I pretend to consider my answer. “I can probably wait that long.”
When I hang up, I turn to see Brant behind me, his eyes narrowed. “You’re murdering who, now?”
“A friend,” I say.
He nods, slowly. “First step to getting back out there?”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
He nods. “Fair enough. One of us should test the waters. See if it’s actually as bad as we remember.”
I calculate when the last time was that I told Brant he needed therapy. Three weeks ago? Four? Is it safe to do again? “Brant? Have you thought about therapy?”
“Nah. People like us don’t need therapy. We’ve pulled back the curtain. Seen the Great and Terrible Oz. Marriage is the disease, not the cure.”
I grimace, hoping it resembles a polite smile.
“By the way,” he adds, “I made sure with Destiny that the off-site would end early enough to get you back here by five. I know you’ve got to get home to your daughter.”
“Thanks, Brant.”
He nods, a strange smile on his lips. “Anytime.”
The locationof our off-site is a beachfront hotel near South Norwalk, Connecticut. The plan is to work on the committee report in a big conference room overlooking the water all day, then take a one-hour boat tour on the Long Island Sound as a team bonding event at the end of the afternoon. As Brant promised, the boat trip will end at 3:45 p.m. and we will go straight back to the city; even with traffic, this means I should be able to pick up Hannah by 6 p.m., when her afterschool care program closes.
Lana and Niamh arrive for the day in what I can only describe as yachting outfits, matching navy and white sundresses with little scarves around their necks. They clearly went shopping together, and part of me feels envious. It’s been a long time since shopping was a fun activity I did with friends instead of a lone, late-night internet search for off-season deals on casualwear.
Brant turns up in a polo shirt and khakis, while Ollie is wearing a pale linen suit that looks as fashionable and buttoned-up as always. He takes a seat near me in the plush passenger van, and I fantasize about being able to hold hands. Maybe it’s just as well we won’t be tempted, since Lana and Niamh immediately surround us in nearby seats.
“We should do a warm-up exercise,” Lana announces. “And we have a suggestion.”
“Go ahead,” Destiny says warily.
“What was the most illegal thing you’ve ever?—”
“No,” Destiny says firmly.
Niamh smirks. “What about the wildest place you’ve ever been naked?”
“Oh, I have such a good one for that,” Lana says.
“Also no,” Destiny says. “We are here to come up with policies to prevent sexual harassment, remember?”
“Trust me, my nudity was very unsexual,” Lana says.
“How about favorite vacation spot?” Ollie offers.
“Ugh, boring,” Niamh cries. Ollie looks out the window.
“Please,” Destiny says, “no warm-up exercises.” She has the tone of a weary kindergarten teacher.
