Page 62 of You'll Love it Here

But it’s far too late to pretend I don’t know these people or care about what happens to them once this place finally meets its end. That’s just something I’ll have to live with—and I know I can. Jane has rebuilt from nothing before. Somehow, we’ll all figure out a way to be okay.

As we climb the stairs, we agree to revisit the investigation next week—with a new bottle of wine in hand.

Let’s All Get Rec’d

And just like that, it’s Tuesday afternoon, which means there’s only two weeks left until I’m due back to the office. My phone pings with an email from Carolyne (and Bill Cleg!) as I’m in the middle of feeding Ernest his breakfast. It lists protocols for my return, my schedule going forward, and points of contact for who was overseeing my projects. It’s detailed, not at all the kind of message I’d expect if they were planning to bring me in just to formally dismiss me. In fact, it’s surprisingly friendly, with Carolyne even adding, “We’re excited to see you soon.”

After a full month of anxiety and creeping guilt, I grasp on to those few simple words. I let them carry more weight than they should, filling me with a fragile sense of worth in a way I’m not willing to explore.

When I first began this leave, I thought the days would crawl by, just a bleak stretch of wasted time until I could get back to my life. But between preparing this place, dealing with all the tenants, taking care of Ernest, and my walks with Sami, the whole thing kind of... flew by. The building is all set for viewings to start. And from the sounds of Lana’s latest communications, it looks like this place is going on the market tonight.

I need to start getting myself back into the mindset of a working person. I promised myself I’d come back stronger, so I might as well begin catching up now. I ring Olivia, and she picks up almost immediately.

“Hey there, Mona!” Her voice is bright but—am I imagining it?—a little curt. It’s probably because she’s at work and has a million thoughts floating through her head.

“Hey, I don’t mean to bother you. Looks like I’m coming back to the office in two weeks, and Carolyne sent me an update that you were handling the Vesterno account.”

“Are you serious?” The excitement in her voice, I realize, was exactly what I was looking for. “I’m so relieved. I’ve missed you like crazy.”

I smile as I go to my fridge to grab a water. Over the past few weeks, the shelves have gotten messy with random ingredients and takeout containers from the diner. I’ll have to get back into the swing of meal planning. “Yeah, I’m starting to catch up now. Actually, I’m reviewing the campaign packet you prepared—I truly appreciate all the effort you put into it. But I noticed the ad spend files aren’t in my drive. Would you mind transferring them over?”

“Oh... yeah. So we were going to fill you in on your return, but Carolyne asked me to hold on to that file. And the client agreed as well.” Olivia’s voice is soft and regretful.

“I see,” I blurt out before thinking. Because what does she mean, the client I’d been managing for Two. Whole. Years—fielding their emails and phone calls on almost a daily basis—is now suddenly being poached?

“I know that was your baby,” Olivia rushes to add. “And I mentioned that to Carolyne, but since we’re right in the middle of a huge campaign and I’ve been handling the day-to-day, Carolyne felt we had to prioritize the client’s best interests... is all.” Her voice is pinched; I’m sure she genuinely hates telling me this. But I can’t help but wonder how hard a fight Olivia really put up. This is a huge client for her.

“No, I get it. That makes sense.” I wish my own voice hadn’t lost all its bounce. Because itdoesmake sense. If I were the client,I wouldn’t want to switch points of contact right in the middle of a campaign either.

Olivia continues, voice softer, “Mona, you know, after this campaign’s done, maybe we can discuss transferring the info back to your portfolio or—”

I’m such a dick. Olivia’s always been my biggest supporter, and I should do the same for her.

“No, Olivia, don’t worry, I get it. You’ve done amazing work, and this is a great opportunity. I think it’s fair, after everything, for that client to be yours now.” I nod to reiterate to myself the truth of my words. This is the kind of thing I knew was at risk when my leave first started—it’s the whole reason why I was so scared to take time off. Plus, Vesterno is a moderately evil pesticide company—nothing sexy, but it was mine. “I’m truly okay. So don’t feel awkward.”

I will just have to work a little harder to get back on track. Nothing I’m not used to.

“And you still have Lana Winston locked in, right?” Olivia adds.

I look around my tiny apartment. “Yeah. Right, I do.” Olivia’s right—bigger opportunities are ahead. It's time to let go of the past and focus on what’s next. I’m coming back stronger than ever.

“God, I’ve missed you.” Olivia’s voice has brightened again. “This place is just not the same without you.”

“I can’t believe how much I miss work.” I nod as the words leave my mouth, as if doubling down will make them stick. And there is a part I’ve really missed—at least the version of myself that had direction, deadlines, a reason to get dressed in the morning.

Alice spins in her tank, a judgmental stare on her face.

My phone buzzes, reminding me of my therapy appointment. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you soon.”

“Love you!” Olivia calls out.

I head through the hallway doing a final once-over, relieved to see that Carmen’s mountain of packages and the reek from Norm’s place are still gone. Everything is all set for Lana.

Once I’ve finished with the first floor, I make my way down the dingier stairwell to the basement. The earthy smell has somewhat lifted after the exterminator’s most recent visit last week. I first open the metal door to peek into the parkade, and the sight before me is a miracle. Better than I could’ve hoped. All the old metal junk has been cleared, even the long-abandoned bikes on the rack are gone.

Carmen must’ve tidied it all up. What a guy.

When I reenter the basement hall for a final check on the laundry room, the sound of Carmen’s voice carries through: “I don’t want to hear it no more.”