Taking Stock Read Free

building in a suit each day had buoyed her pride. An hour ago, she’d thought she was going somewhere, but now she stared numbly at her screen, terrified to speak, unsure about the problem she faced or what to do next.
    Johnson lit into her again and she felt a tear inching its way toward the microphone. Strangely, the tears protected her against the stream of insults screaming over the line. Letting go of the professional status she’d been clinging to somehow gave her immunity. She asked him to hold on for her supervisor and set the headset down on the desk, dabbing her eyes as she stood up. She wandered through the blurry maze of gray cubicles to find Gregg.
    An hour before, she was eager to win his approval and build from there toward affection. The half-dozen years between them were never a concern. Now she’d be glad for him to save her from the angry man on the phone so she could go back to being the young girl he supplied with fatherly advice.

Chapter Three
     
When Marissa stood up the voices around her dropped to a murmur in respect for a wounded comrade. She retreated from the frenzy of the front lines, fighting to cover the signs of defeat. She refused to dab her eyes as she walked, crumpling the tissue deep inside her fist instead. She refused to sniffle or convulse under the weight of the tears she held back. They all knew. Had they expected her to wash out after ten minutes ? Had they heard her fear over the low partition walls ? Did her frustration and anxiety clang over the reassuring voices of the veterans ? She wondered if this would be her last day at BFS.
The people behind the disapproving glances were no more to Marissa than the churning masses that bustled down the sidewalks. Gregg was the only person that mattered. He was the perfect intersection of potential friend, boss, and wistful after-hours companion. She hunched in his doorway with her eyes on the carpet and waited for him to finish his call. Everyone here seemed to be on the phone constantly.
The high partitions of Gregg’s cubicle made a U shape against the wall of glass that ringed the office. Far below tiny cars and people hurried along under a crystal spring sky. Gregg was secluded from the chaos inside and out. Even standing he’d be barely visible to anyone among the low warren of identical desks beyond. The only person who could watch Gregg work was Jane Wheeler, a manager whose cubicle also abutted the glass and opened toward Gregg’s. Her slow polite nod held more compassion than she’d felt from anyone she’d passed on the way here. Maybe compassion came with the position or vice-versa.
Once Gregg saw Marissa’s face, he abruptly ended his conversation and left his chair. Her makeup was a disaster, but Gregg was at her elbow and there was no place to turn except back through the maze of prying eyes. She wasn’t eager to make that walk alone just now.
“Tough call?” he asked without prompting. “Can I help?”
“He’s holding for you.”
Gregg reached for a notepad. “What do I need to know ? ”
She related the few details she could remember. An experienced agent would have come with the facts, but Gregg didn’t mind. His eyes held no disappointment for her failure just minutes after being left alone. He made no complaint about the sparse details she offered. He listened calmly, thoughtfully and when she was done, he led her back to her desk.  
 Gregg took her chair, put on the headset he wore around his neck, and plugged it in. He muted Marissa’s headset and handed it to her, tethering her to the conversation, but requiring nothing except that she listen. There wasn’t room for a second chair and her skirt wouldn’t allow sitting on the desktop. She stood silent and tall amid the cubes like a lone sidewalk tree attracting the attention of every dog that passed.
Gregg began in a strong, soothing voice, “Good morning, Mr. Johnson. Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Gregg Turner, a client services supervisor here