Searching for Mr. Darcy

Scene Seventy-One

In addition to a grande mocha frappuccino, there was also a warm, buttered croissant and a pat of strawberry jam waiting on Maisie's desk Monday morning.  As soon as she sat down and ripped off the straw wrapper, a chatbox popped up on her monitor.

"Are we forgiven yet?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled.  "Don't know - are you going to start referring to yourself and Talia as 'we' even when it isn't necessary?"

"I'm not gonna lie.  Probably."

She laughed and opened the jam.  Once it was spread evenly on her pastry, she typed, "At least you're honest about it."

"Is that a yes, then? The laugh sounded pretty forgiving.  Trevor thinks so, too."  Trevor was the accountant in the cubicle beside George.

"I've forgiven Talia.  You need to prove to me you deserve forgiveness, too, and while the coffee and pastry are a good start, I'm going to need more."

"Lunch on me, today?"

"Hmmm..."

"At Cowfish?"

"You're forgiven.  Meet you there at 1:00."

She clicked on her email and answered the most pressing messages first, because she had to be onsite at one of the model homes for the morning.  she checked her voicemails next, and returned a call to one of the real estate groups they worked closely with.  By ten, she'd taken care of all the important tasks on her to-do list and had just gathered her bag and the marketing materials she was delivering to the model when Roseberg came around the corner and stopped right in front of her.  He didn't say anything immediately, but his mustache twitched in time with his left eye.

"Morning," Maisie said, shifting the weight of the materials from one arm to the other.

"I'm a sexist now, huh?" he spat.

Maisie calmly deposited her handful onto the surface of her desk, squared her shoulders, and met his eye.  "I doubt it's a recent development, sir."

"Excuse me?"

Most sexists don't just become that way overnight.  I'm guessing you've been a sexist for the majority, if not all of, your adult life."

"How dare you speak to me that way.  I'm not sexist!"

"What you said to me on Friday was incredibly misogynistic and you've always treated the women in the office differently than the men.  Women get told to do better, no matter their success.  Men are told 'good job' no matter their incompetence.  If this is the first time someone has reported you, I'm honestly more surprised than you are right now.  I'm also pretty furious that HR would tell you about my complaint without giving me a head's up at least, because this, right here, what you're doing right now, is intimidation and harassment and that is not okay."

"You're fired!" Roseberg shouted.

Maisie took a step back.  The fury in his voice and face were scary, but in a way, comical.  She calmly put her purse on her shoulder.  "Okay.  I was supposed to deliver these to the model in the new Owl's Nest community.  I trust you'll take care of it.  Fuck it.  I don't care if you do."  She tried to step around him, but he was blocking the aisle.  "Move, please."

"I'm calling security to escort you out."

"I'm leaving already.  You saw me put everything on my desk so I'm not stealing anything.  Why is security necessary?"

"It's protocol," he said.

"No, it's not. You're just being a dick."

His mouth flew open, but she didn't let him get the last word.  "George, see you at one," she yelled over the tops of the cubicles.  "Anyone else who wants lunch at Cowfish is welcome, except this asshole."  She elbowed her way past him and left the building in a daze.

By the time she'd driven the few miles to North Hills and a little retail therapy, which would have to be look-don't-buy only, now that she didn't have a steady paycheck coming in, her head felt clearer.

She called Clay and explained the situation.  "They'll have to at least give me severance, right?" she asked.

"Depends on your contract.  We can sue for wrongful termination, but North Carolina is an at-will state."

"But surely there has to be something against retribution for complaints?"

"I'm not well-versed in employment laws - were there witnesses?" he asked.

"Basically the entire office."

"I'll want to interview them."

"Are you free for lunch at 1:00?  At least one will be meeting me at Cowfish."

"I'll see you there," Clay said, before disconnecting.  Maisie felt better as she walked into Target to kill some time.  She could always count on Clay to be level-headed and come up with pragmatic solutions to balance out her desire for vengeance.