I contemplate that for a moment and pat my mom on the shoulder. “She’s not. If we ignore the fact that there were only three participants, and two of them were under ten.”
They both laugh and I join in too, glad to see my mom is doing better already. The heart attack she suffered two weeks ago scared us both and even if I know she’s well taken care of here, I still worry, so I make sure to visit her when I can and have lunch together.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Ronald, we’ll continue after I’ve had lunch with my son,” she states, letting me help her up to her feet. “This is not over.”
We leave the two Bennetts in the play corner and take our favorite spot by the massive window overlooking the back garden. Flowers are in full bloom here too, making me wish the weather was a notch warmer so we could sit outside.
“So? Are you excited? Today is your big day,” my mom leads in, taking a bite from her tuna melt.
I drag my fork from one end of the salad container to the other. “I’m nervous.”
“You’ll do just fine, Josh.”
“I… don’t know if I’m ready…”
She squeezes my arm. “You are. I know things happened a bit fast, and that the heart attack wasn’t part of the plan, but it doesn’t change things. Over ninety percent of the Union voted for you. You are ready to take the reins.”
I thought I was, but getting thrown in the deep end right away can be scary. And that’s before we even consider the pressure taking over as the head of the Oregon Workers First Labor Union brings. My mom was in charge for the last fifteen years, and she’s done such a stellar job that it’s turned her into somewhat of a legend. While I’ve assisted in many cases already, learned from her and the others, Devon Holidays will be my first solo case.
The bar just couldn’t be higher. So much rides on this, so many people’s wellbeing. Amy Lee Anderson was meant to handle it—her last and most significant case before she retired—but the heart attack forced our timeline to change. So now, it’s my duty to fight this evil corporation and make sure people are paid what they deserve and don’t get sacked just for demanding fairness.
“Many people are counting on me not to fuck up.”
“And you won’t,” she assures me. “You are great at this, Josh. You’ve helped me many times. And if people didn’t trust you to lead them, you wouldn’t have won with such a landslide.”
I know she is right, but it doesn’t make the case any less difficult. Devon Holidays will fight this. They won’t just listen to our demands and agree. I’m worried.
“Thanks, but I’m still nervous,” I confess, sighing as I pop a piece of chicken inside my mouth.
“And that’s normal. Too much confidence will only make you overly complacent,” she muses, flashing me a bigsmile. “You spent a month preparing. You also helped me get the case going in the first place. You got this.”
I repeat that mantra as we focus on our food and switch to small talk. Her laughter booms across the room when I complain about my blazer, which somehow makes the whole thing slightly better. It’s stained, and you can sort of see it, but only if you really look, so I reckon I will be fine.
Forty minutes later, we’ve said goodbye and I’m back at the Union’s offices. I take out my notes to go over them a few more times before I need to head to the meeting, but before I’ve gotten even halfway through, there is a knock on my door.
“Hey, Josh, how was your lunch with Amy Lee?”
I smile at Mariam. She is one of the seniors at the Union, second best only to my mom. She also looks fabulous with her lush curls and wrinkles-free face, and I wish I can look even half as good when I get to be her age.
“Good. She got her ass kicked at chess again though, so she was a bit grumpy.”
“Ah, sounds about right.”
An awkward pause ensues, telling me Mariam didn’t stop by just to ask about my mom. “So, did you need something?”
She presses her lips together, contemplating what to say or whether to say anything. “Yes. I, um, just got an email from Devon Holidays. They’ll be sending a junior partner to the meeting.”
A junior partner? That’s… weird. I should be meeting with their commission, not some partner.
I tap my fingers against the desk. “And the commission?”
“They will get involved if necessary…”
Are you kidding me? What is this shit? Does Devon Holidays think we are a joke? That the people who work for them are a joke? Who the fuck pulls something like this last minute?
I reel in my annoyance as best as I can and shoot Mariam a tight smile. It’s not her fault, she’s just the messenger. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Who do they think they are?” she grumbles, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “Ugh, there isn’t much time left. Do you want me to quickly look into who this partner might be?”
