My Year of Casual Acquaintances (South Bay #1)

15.

I’m sitting out on the deck with Sexy Eyes/Charlie. After morning yoga, we grabbed a cup of coffee, ambled outdoors, and settled into lounge seats side by side. Nobody invited anyone. It kind of happened on its own.

We’re filling out questionnaires that the staff distributed upon check-in this morning. It’s a survey asking what types of social activities might interest members. Wine tasting is one of the choices – and in reviewing the form together, Charlie and I discover this is an area of common interest. We compare notes. I like to attend wine tastings at the local food markets, where I can combine the activity with grocery shopping, but Charlie prefers the tastings offered by boutique wine merchants and some of the small restaurants. He tells me about weekly tastings at a new retailer in Hermosa Beach who specializes in domestic wines. “Not only California – they also stock lots of wines from Washington State, Oregon, and even East Coast wineries, including some small, hard-to-find labels. They’ve got an unusual inventory.”

“How much do they charge for a tasting?”

“It’s free,” he says, then smiles. “Though I wind up spending a small fortune every time I go there.”

“Why is it, if we pay ten or fifteen dollars to taste a flight of wines, we walk away at the end – but if there’s no charge to taste, we feel obliged to spend sixty dollars on an overpriced bottle of cab?”

“That is so true. Sad that we can be manipulated so easily.”

As he says this, my cellphone buzzes, and I glance at the screen. It’s Robert, my boss. I mean, former boss. I don’t pick up. But a couple of minutes later, a text pops up on the phone.

Robert: Nic Rodriguez is gone. The whole agency has been fired. Ed at L&M feels terrible about what happened. He wants you back and so do I. We need to talk, Mar. Please.

As unexpected as this message is, the part that jumps out at me is neither the news of Nic’s departure nor Robert’s pleading tone. It is the fact that my boss has addressed me as “Mar” for the first time ever. Is this a sign he’ll play by my rules going forward? I stand and say to Charlie, “Sorry, but there’s an important call I have to make. I’m going down to the lower deck for a few minutes where it’s quieter.”

“No problem.”

“Can I leave my stuff here?” I ask, pointing to my gym bag.

“Sure. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back soon.”

Robert answers my call right away. He explains that when Ed Matthews returned from his long anniversary trip, he was horrified to learn of my resignation and how it resulted from Nic’s threat to pull the advertising. “Turns out this is not the only funny business Rodriguez was engaged in,” says Robert. “He also tried to pressure L&M’s printer into giving him a kickback on a job – said he knew a better, cheaper printing house that could handle the work if they weren’t prepared to cooperate.”

“That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

“You betcha. Ed isn’t going to prosecute though. He wants to put this whole sorry episode behind him.”

“But why did Ed fire the agency? He could’ve just asked them to take Nic off the account.”

“Long story, but he hasn’t been happy with their work for several months, and this was the final straw. Oh, by the way, did Rodriguez tell you his parents are Puerto Rican immigrants?”

“Yes, why?”

“It’s a load of crap. Rodriguez isn’t even his real name. Turns out he changed it from Nicholas Rodgers.”

“Good grief. Why would he do that?”

“Ed found out he changed it when he started exploring the job market after college. I guess he figured an ethnic identity would give him an advantage.”

Though I’m vindicated by these developments, I’m still not sure I can go back to my old job as if nothing had changed. “But Robert,” I say, “I’ve gotta be honest about something. I’m still concerned over the rocky financial picture. You and I clashed over this article because business was bad, and you didn’t want to lose a big advertiser. Who’s to say this won’t happen again with another client?”

“Fair question. I was an asshole to give in to Rodriguez the way I did. I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve trusted that Ed would take our side—I should’ve done a lot of things differently. I panicked, and I made a bad decision.”

“Well, I guess I did too.”

“How so?” he asks.

“I—I shouldn’t have been so quick to bail on you the way I did. It wasn’t fair of me.” It’s true. Robert is a man I’ve known and trusted for years.

“It’s not too late to undo our mistakes. At least, I hope not,” he says. Then he dangles a carrot. “I can’t give you a huge raise in pay, but I’m thinking a ten percent salary increase, effective the beginning of June.”

“But how can you afford it if business is lousy?”

“Good news on that front as well. Turns out L&M is having a much better year than we are, and Ed has committed to buying sixteen more pages of advertising in our environmental inserts. And we’ve signed up two new smaller advertisers who are coming on board for the second half of the year.”

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Another thing. Pam is gone.”

“Pam? What happened?” Pam was the weakest link in the advertising sales department, and I speculate on whether Robert has let her go – worrying, with a fiery pang of guilt, if he’s done so to free up additional funds for enticing me back. But it turns out Pam’s grown weary of the stress of advertising and resigned to work at a veterinary office. Instead of replacing her, Robert has split up her territory to give the three remaining regional managers more responsibility. They’re happy to receive the additional commissions. And by eliminating one salary, Robert now has more dollars in the kitty to take good care of his other employees.

“One last thing,” I say. “What happened with the article that I quit over?”

“Ed and I agreed it needs a total rewrite. It’s on the back burner until they have a new agency in place. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you—Ed asked for our guidance in selecting the next agency, so I’ve referred him to the people we trust the most. Whoever he chooses will be an ally.”

By the end of the call, we’ve agreed on the terms of my return, and Robert has promised to put everything in writing before end of day. I’m all smiles when I return to the upper sundeck, pumping one fist in the air to signify victory as I approach Charlie lounging in his chair.

“I guess your call went well?” he asks.

“Extremely well.” I give him a heavily edited version. “That was my boss. I had a little problem at work, but it’s been resolved in my favor. He’s even giving me a raise.”

“Well, that is good news. Sounds like a celebration is in order.” Charlie raises his coffee cup in a mock toast, and I think that’s the extent of the celebration. But then he says, “There’s a wine tasting tomorrow night at the new store I told you about in Hermosa. They’re featuring a little contest – Oregon versus California pinot noirs. Why don’t you join me?”

His invitation sounds suspiciously like a date to me. Is this a good idea, at this difficult juncture in my life? But one glance into those beautiful gray eyes, and I know what my answer will be.

. . .

The next hurdle is to resolve what to do about my babysitting job. Of course, Powder World comes first, but I’m not the sort of woman to renege on a commitment. I decide a week’s notice is adequate. When Cheryl returns home on schedule at four o’clock the next day to relieve me, I announce my resignation.

“Oh, Mar,” she says with a strained smile, “this is quite a coincidence. I have news for you too.”

It turns out her regular sitter’s sister has driven down from Oakland to help out during her recovery, and she plans to stay for several weeks. The sisters have proposed to come over every afternoon to help with Connor – two for one at no extra charge. “I was going to suggest one week as well,” says Cheryl. “I didn’t think it was fair to turn you loose without notice. But now that you’ve got another job, maybe it’s best for everyone if we make the change effective right away?”

“Yes, that will be fine.” Relief floods over me at the news of this seven-day reprieve. “I’m sure Connor will be thrilled to have his regular sitter back,” I say, though he’s never spoken a word about her.

On my beach walk following this conversation, I greet Petey and Audrey with enthusiasm. The dog picks up on my elation, barking with excitement and jumping up to land a sloppy kiss on my nose. I lean down to stroke the terrier’s silky coat, reflecting on how much I’m looking forward to the inbox full of articles to edit, the staff video conferences I’ll be scheduling, and all the grownup assignments with which I will happily occupy my time once more.

“You seem happy today.” Audrey grins at me.

“You’ve got that right. I have a lot to celebrate. From now on, no more endless games of Jail with Connor, no more worrying about whether I’ve hit on the correct ratio of cinnamon to sugar.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—but congrats anyway,” says Audrey.

Petey barks again, and it sounds a lot like congratulations to me.

And to top off this sudden reversal of fortune, there’s my newest acquaintance from the gym – the sexy yogi in whose company I’ll spend the upcoming evening, trading observations on the relative virtues of Oregon and California pinots.