I hit the green button. “Hey, Roz.”
“You need to call Wicklein! Talk him down!” I held the phone away from my ear as Rosalyn’s biting tone came through the line.
“Hello to you too.”
“Don’t patronize me, William.” I could practically hear her gnashing her teeth. “We don’t need to bother with chatty small talk. I didn’t call to make nice. I need you to call Wicklein and make sure he’s okay. He hasn’t returned my calls in a month.”
I heaved a sigh, knowing it galled her to ask me for anything. Even though I’d helped her out with more than a few business matters since we’d split, I didn’t want to make our situation more acrimonious.
“What’s going on?”
“Same as this summer. He likes you. Only you. I’ve explained to him you’re not at Wallingford anymore, but he refuses to acknowledge it, keeps saying you must be available to help since it’s your parents’ company. I’ve tried to make him understand. Your mother and father have tried. He keeps insisting you handle his account.”
Bryan Wicklein was one of my first clients. Over the years, even when I’d transferred from asset management to capital investments, I’d maintained my position as his point of contact. His account was a priority. It had seemed prudent for me to stick with him.
By the time I left Wallingford almost two years ago, I’d been down to a handful of long-standing clients—all of whom I’d transferred to Rosalyn. Everyone else wished me well, but Wicklein had been threatening to take his business elsewhere ever since.
“He won’t admit it, but he doesn’t want a woman handling his account,” Roz said with disdain.
I frowned. “He doesn’t need to admit it. We all know that’s the reason. Even if he never says the quiet part out loud.” I tugged at my hair. “Can you transfer him over to Benjamin, if he’s going to be a problem?”
“I mean Ican.” Rosalyn stretched out the last word. “But I don’t want to. I want to show your parents how valuable I am to the team.”
“They know how valuable you are, Roz. Everyone does.”
She exhaled audibly. “Do they really, William?” Her voice tightened, and I knew she was shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. I’d seen her do it a thousand times. “Do they? Or do they just feel sorry for me because I’m the woman their son dumped—”
“Roz—”
“No, save it. I know we’ve been over it a hundred times.” She cleared her throat. “But you don’t realize what it’s like, William. With our old coworkers. Do they really know? That I’m here because I’m valuable? And not for someotherreason? You left. You’re not here to worry about what they say behind their cubicles or at happy hour.”
I sucked in a breath. She was correct. We’d rehashed our split ad nauseam. When I’d finally broken it off for good, just over a year after meeting Maureen, Rosalyn had been incredulous. The first few weeks, she assumed I would “come to my senses,” and when that didn’t happen, she spent the next four months alternating between yelling, accusing me of leading her on, with entreaties to give us another chance. I felt certain her motivation was fear of falling out of favor with my parents, not undying love for me.
We just didn’t fit, no matter how much my mother and father liked her. She didn’t care about my art, or my wish to find creative investments for the company, didn’t enjoy going to the concerts and festivals I thrived on. We never conversed about anything other than work. She never laughed. But for months, I’d allowed her to rail at me. Because I’d earned it. Because Rosalyn hadn’t been wrong when she’d accused me of going through the motions in our relationship. One night with Maureen had shown me what I’d been missing.
I’d questioned initially why Rosalyn stayed at Wallingford Capital, but ultimately, I agreed that her career shouldn’t have to suffer because we broke up. She was a senior VP, on track to lead the company one day. The situation was awkward, but my parents wouldn’t have kept on any employee out of guilt. She was there because she was extremely competent. I also knew her coworkers respected the hell out of her.
Still, I understood her concerns about office gossip. Our breakup had been a huge blow to her ego, and she’d neverconceded that our lives would have been a million times worse if we’d actually gotten married. She would have gone through with it and started a whole life with me just to save face.
“Look, Rosalyn. I don’t think you realize how much people admire you, especially my parents. I’m sure everyone at Wallingford feels the same, and I doubt they’re talking about our breakup since it’s old new—”
“William, just stop. Christ. I didn’t call for a pep talk. You don’t need to pretend to care anymore. I know it’s bullshit.”
Damn. We’d had our share of arguments, but I hated it had come to this.
“Roz, I’m really sorry—”
“Can you just call Wicklein? Please. Tell him I know what I’m doing, that my pretty little female head can still process all those big, scary number wumbers.”
I stared down at my phone. “Yeah, I’ll call him on Monday.”
She hung up without a goodbye, and I put a reminder in my phone to make the call Monday morning. I thought the company could withstand the financial blow if Wicklein walked, but I sympathized with Roz’s need to have a win. It must have killed her to call me, and I’d honor that.
On Monday. This weekend I had a party to go to.
Chapter ten
Maureen
