Page 36 of Goode Tidings

My neck pops with the speed of my swivel to my computer. Charles is still talking. I'd known he was in the office by looking at the background on the video call. That means he was down the hall from Angelique.

A woman laughs. Throaty. "To the victor go the spoils." It's Angelique.

Charles' video is off, but he didn't turn off his microphone. Angelique never ended the call. I look at the participant number. Three. Me, Charles, and Angelique. And they don't know I'm here.

A chair squeaks, and then there's the metallic sound of a hastily unzipped zipper. A moment later, a groan from Charles and a muffled murmur of encouragement from Angelique.

No. Please no. This can't be happening.

I hit the tiny box with the X on the top corner of the screen, and the pleasured noises disappear. I close my laptop with a snap, fold my arms on top, and drop my head. And then I cry, and I cry, and I cry.

Charles knows that I know he stole that design. He did it boldly and assumed he wouldn't get in trouble for it. I could take it to Angelique, but now I know how that would go. Her 'investigation' would turn up nothing. It would be he said/she said. Old emails? Those could be fabricated. Files with the same design? You could have made those after you saw Charles' design. It would be a fight without an acceptable resolution.

I can't keep working for Blossom. That much is clear. I have some money saved, and I'm not paying a mortgage right now. I can stay afloat until I find another job.

My memory serves me an image of Oliver from the day we drove from Phoenix to Snowflake. His disbelief and disappointment at the way I tolerated Chuck-wad's inappropriate behavior.

I don't want to be a person who gives men like Charles a pass, and I especially don't want my son to see me that way. More importantly, I don't want to teach him that he can misbehave and expect people to tolerate it.

I sit up and wipe under my eyes. Straighten out my shoulders.

I should play Dolly Parton, but I don't want to deviate from my next steps. I'm afraid if I take the time to turn on music, I'll second-guess myself. I'll consider all the ways what I'm about to do will turn out poorly.

There's no catchy tune playing when I open my laptop and write a resignation letter to Angelique.

Effective immediately.

CHAPTER 18

Pretty Babies

Cecily: Can we get an update from the Pretty Baby currently residing in the top half of the state?

Paisley: Yeah! Why haven't we heard from you, Eden?

Paloma: Don't make me come up there.

Eden: Ladies! I'm fine.

Paloma: Don't take that tone with me.

Paisley: Paloma's in her mom era.

Eden: Since when does Paloma have a child?

Paloma: You three naughty children.

Cecily: You're too quiet, Eden. What's going on up there?

Eden: Well… I quit my job.

Cecily: ???

Paisley: ???

Paloma: What the fuck?

Eden: Chuck-wad passed off my design as his own and used it to win that collab I told you about. So I quit.