Free Pink Slips and Glass Slippers by J.P. Hansen

clanking dish startled father and daughter. “Reuben for the young lady. With fries. I brought you extra ketchup.”
    Brooke’s appetite had gone from unquenchable to invisible in a matter of seconds. She stared at the Reuben she had so craved as if it was suddenly covered with mold. The fries she would have killed for earlier now smelled repulsive. She sipped her iced tea, then eyed her daddy. He cut a piece of his fish and forced it into his mouth. He reached for his water and gulped. She could tell his mouth was too dry to eat properly. Just like hers.
    Neither one of them spoke while they struggled to eat. Brooke managed to consume half the sandwich and hardly touched her fries. For the first time in as long as she could remember, her daddy left food on his plate.
    “Would either of you care for dessert?”
    Both Brooke and her father replied in unison, “No.” Weston said, “Please just charge this to my account.”
    “Right away, Mr. Ingram. Have a nice day. Hope to see you soon.”
    During the short drive back, with the air conditioning still blasting in her face, neither of them spoke. As Weston pulled into the driveway, he said, “You wanna come in for a while?”
    “Not today, Daddy. I have a long drive and my foot’s hurting.”
    Weston shot a look of dejection, “At least let me grab you a fresh bag of ice.”
    “Sure.” As much as Brooke just wanted to bolt out of there, she had to allow her daddy to be the gentleman. And, her ankle throbbed.
    After Weston shuffled into the house, Brooke stepped out of his Cadillac. She hobbled over to her car, jumped in, and started the engine. Within a minute, her daddy emerged from the garage carrying a gallon-sized cellophane bag packed with crushed ice. As he handed it to her, he said, “Are you sure you have to leave so soon?”
    So soon? The last hour felt like an eternity. She wanted to say something wise like, it’s Saturday, Daddy, how am I going to meet a guy hanging out with you, but instead, “Thanks for lunch, Daddy. I’ll see you soon.”
    “Remember what I said.”
    “I will. Don’t worry about me. Take care, love you.”
    Driving away, Brooke felt drained. Her emotional tank ran dry. Visiting Tanner’s grave, Todd moving away, the job she dreaded, and her aching ankle, all descended on her like a landslide. Between Shane, Todd, and her daddy, she had plenty of advice about life. She realized they were all right—in their own ways—but, she also understood life had to be on her own terms.
    It’s not that I don’t want a man—it’s that Mister Right is my boss—and he’s already taken.

Chapter 7
    The shrill ring startled her. Her office landline still sounded foreign to her. And Monday mornings were never Brooke’s high achievement intervals as her life coach liked to call them. She had been thinking of calling Shane and hoped it was him, but caller ID revealed a local number. “Hello, this is Brooke Hart.”
    “Good morning, Miss Hart. It’s Ruth Shelby from Chase Allman’s office. Do you have a moment?” Brooke shot upright in her chair. She hated being called Miss Hart, but thought against arguing.
    “Yes, of course. Hi Ruth.” Brooke almost called her Miss Shelby but bit her lip instead.
    Bypassing the return hi and small talk that usually ensued, Ruth said, “Mr. Allman would like to schedule a meeting with you today.”
    Big gulp, thinking why? Am I getting fired? “I’m free most of the afternoon.”
    “Mr. Allman has an available time slot at 2:15 p.m. Does that work for you?” Brooke sensed it was a rhetorical question since her company outlook was blank all day.
    “Yes ma’am.”
    “Good, he’ll see you at 2:15 p.m. sharp.”
    “Ruth?”
    “Yes, I’m here. Do you have a question?”
    “What is the purpose of the meeting?”
    “You’ll have to ask Mr. Allman.” Ruth sounded like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz.
    “What should I prepare for the meeting?”
    “I don’t know…prepare to answer his