"I'll be right there. I just need to, ah, grab my things," I said. I saw Rainer stepping out of his office and felt like I needed to face him now or never. "Go ahead without me."
"No, thanks." Stan pulled me into the executive elevator that only opened on our floor and the penthouse. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got stuck in an elevator? I was on the way to meet my wife, my first wife, and I got stuck for five hours. By the time I got out, she'd met someone in the lobby, gotten a better offer, and had gone off to dinner. That dinner turned into a new career for her and a nasty divorce for me."
"And you didn't just press the 'stop' button?" I asked.
Stan chuckled. "In hindsight, it was lucky that elevator got stuck. I wasn't strong enough to do it myself. Sometimes we know when a relationship just isn't right, but we don't have the fortitude to walk away."
I crossed my arms. "Is this work advice?"
"Let's just call it good advice," Stan said.
The elevator doors slid open and the elegance of the executive floor struck me as it always did. The walls were a dark marble with copper seams. Wooden pillars stood sentinel at the corners. My heels sunk into the plush Berber carpet as I followed Stan to his office. He pushed open the double doors and stepped into the sun-filled room.
I paused while Stan rounded his desk and sat down. It was a bad habit, one my mentor encouraged, but every time I stepped into his office, I thought about what it would be like when it was mine. More chairs around the square coffee table for longer meetings. A larger table, maybe even round, to replace Stan's glass conference table. Brighter curtains, light touches of color, and a trio of artwork. My mind spun out as I realized I could finally afford real, collectible art.
"Before you pick out throw pillows, there's something I have to tell you." Stan rocked back and forth in his leather desk chair.
"The way you said that makes me think I want to be standing for this news," I said.
Stan nodded. "You've never struck me as a fainter, so here goes: we're selling Hyperion."
Instead of swaying against the impact of that overwhelming news, I broke into a furious pace. I rounded the glass conference table and glanced at Stan. He watched me approach, hands steepled but reclining at ease in his leather chair.
"The entire company?" I asked.
"Sold," Stan said.
"No merger? No rebranding? Just sold?" I took another lap around the conference table, but the nervous energy was overtaking me.
"Now settle down, Tasha. I changed my mind; you need to sit down," Stan said. He sat up and waved me into one of the chairs that faced his desk. "This isn't necessarily bad news."
A bubble of laughter slipped past my shock. "Not bad news? How is watching this company get dismantled not bad news?" I asked.
Stan sighed. "Most people would think about the money we'll make from the deal. All shareholders are going to get a nice dividend."
I scowled at my boss and mentor. "Most people don't love their jobs."
"No, Tasha. You're wrong. You don't love this job; you love working." Stan leaned forward. "And I know for a fact you will not be out of work. Unless you want to take some time. Might be nice to be at home and enjoy your new niece or nephew when they arrive."
I gripped the armrest of my chair and let that foreign idea sweep over me. My condo was in desperate need of a deep cleaning and reorganizing. It could be a chance to dump everything and start fresh. I could completely redo the landscaping and maybe even try my hand at a container herb garden. And, Stan was right, I could be more help to my sister and her new baby.
It all sounded so domestic and peaceful.
I shook my head. "I love working."
Stan leaned back in his leather chair and laughed. "I could have put money down that you would answer that way. That's why I told my new business partners that I wanted a place for you in the new venture. Lucky for both of us, your reputation precedes you, and they are very excited to discuss the possibilities."
I held up both hands. "Who are they? What new venture? And what possibilities?"
Stan stood up. "I'm talking about a new integrated communications business where you can shape your own position. Pick your title, name your salary, and get to work."
I stood up and skirted around my chair to hang on to the back as I faced Stan. "Integrated communications?"
"I know, I know, you'll want to see all the details and crunch all the numbers." He tossed a heavy packet onto my chair. "I'm only slightly insulted that you don't trust me."
"It's not that." I felt the tension release my shoulders. "I do trust you. This is just a lot to take in. I came in here with a great idea for the community gardens, and now this."
Stan frowned. "You're still on the GroGreen campaign? Tasha, that was just public relations, and now it's over. The application is selling well, and we are on to bigger and better things."