VELOCITY - DEE JACOB [5]
Amy was listening closely but fidgeting, shifting in her seat, playing with her pen, which was what she did when she was nervous or unsettled.
“So,” Don continued, “it’s going to be tough.”
She flashed an uncomfortable little smile and said, “You know what they say, Don: When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”
“Yes, and that’s my plan,” said Don.
“Excuse me?”
“I am going. Leaving. Bugging out. Hitting the bricks.”
“When?”
“No definite date. But I’m pretty dang sure Winner does not want me for the long term. If I hang around I can probably haggle for a supergood package from them. But I don’t know if I even want to endure the aggravation. I’m fifty-nine; I’ve got enough money to retire now if I want to. And if I get tired of sailing my boat or playing golf or cruising the world, that’s what headhunters are for.”
Amy’s eyes had watered just slightly. She sighed.
“I’m really going to miss you, B. Don.”
He nodded. “Well … thanks. We’ve done a few good deeds together, haven’t we. Saved the business and got it growing again after some bad times. Kept a lot of jobs right here in Highboro. Not all of them, but we’re still a major employer. Helped keep the big ones flying with replacement parts … and that’s the truth. Made nice profits, even as we brought prices down and grew our market share. And now we’ve got new generations of composites coming on, and the wind turbine segment shows some real promise on the energy front. I’ll miss it. I’ll miss you and a lot of the others. I’ll miss the challenges. But when it’s time to go …”
Don leaned forward. Amy thought he was going to stand up and do just that, but he didn’t. Instead he looked straight at her and lowered his voice.
“Amy, this conversation, of course, never took place, but if I were you, and I hate to say it, you might want to bring your résumé up to date and have a look around yourself.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Not unless the job is here in town or pretty close by. Not with my parents the way they are.”
“They are up there in age, aren’t they. You were the change-of-life baby, I believe,” he said with a smile.
“Yep, I was the surprise. But, Don, you know the situation. Dad’s got Alzheimer’s. If he moves to a new place, he’ll never figure it out. Mom’s finally got a good set of doctors here for all her problems. I can’t just uproot them and take them with me, and they really need somebody to look in on them every few days. Then there are my kids … they’d lose all their friends. I can’t bring myself to say the hell with everybody and go look for the perfect job. So I’m kind of stuck here.”
“I understand. But, Amy, there is one last thing I feel I need to warn you about, in case you do stay. In the past, you have complained to me privately about a perceived glass ceiling in place at the St. Louis headquarters.”
“And you always insisted it wasn’t there.”
“Well … I’m not saying it wasn’t there, but I always figured the right woman, the right anybody, could punch through it. In St. Louis. But these guys … I heard in New York a few things said, never mind what, things you yourself will never hear. And at Winner, that glass ceiling, sorry to say, is in place. Try not to be too harsh in your opinions; I think it’s just part of their competitive thing.”
Amy sat stoically for a second, then snapped her lips together to form a happy idiot’s grin.
“Well … B. Don! You sure have cheered me up! I am so glad you stopped by!”
He laughed and stood to leave her. He extended his hand. Amy shook his hand, but then came around the corner of her desk and hugged him.
“Amy,” he said, “you take care of yourself, you