Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Evie

The following Monday, I had my first one-on-one counseling appointment at the office. I was excited and nervous, and both were showing—to me anyway. I’d been up since three AM making cookies, and was now arriving at the office before it even opened.

I’d decided to bring some of the goodies with me to keep out on a pretty tray next to the patient couch. Joan in HR had warned me that some of the traders had been vocal about not wanting to be forced to meet with a therapist, so I thought it might soften the blow if they could nibble on some cookies.

On my walk from the subway to the office, my hands were full with three containers of cookies, a gallon of milk, some disposable cups and paper goods, a half-dozen files I’d read at home last night, and my unnecessarily large purse. At the door to the building, I was attempting to juggle it all into one hand when an arm reached around me and opened the door.

“Thank you so…” I turned to finish the sentence and realized it was the boss. “Oh, you again.”

He offered his signature half smile-half smirk. “You sound so thrilled…”

Merrick wore black running gear again, except today his outfit had a short-sleeve shirt. He reached up to pluck one earbud from his ear, and the muscles of his brawny biceps bulged, catching my attention. Well, maybe a little thrilled. Luckily, he seemed oblivious to my ogle.

“What the hell is in all the bags?” He reached over and scooped everything from my right side into his arms.

“Thank you. I made some cookies, but then I realized I can’t serve cookies without milk. And I haven’t checked out the supplies in the break room yet, so I picked up some paper goods and cups and stuff, too.”

“You baked?”

I nodded.

“Uh-oh. Was it me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said you bake when you’re angry.”

I laughed. “No, I said I bake when I get into a frenzied mood. This was excited baking.”

Merrick peeked in the bag. “Looks like a shit ton of cookies in here.”

“And I left more than half at home.” I smiled. “I’m really nervous.”

We arrived at the elevator bank, and Merrick pushed the button. “What are you nervous about?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Starting therapy with a bunch of super-intelligent Ivy League millionaires who don’t think they need therapy.”

“You want me to let you in on a little secret for keeping them in their place?”

“Duh—is that even really a question? Yes.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Merrick held out his hand for me to enter first. It was just the two of us in the car, yet Merrick lowered his voice. “Okay, this is the secret. When you feel like they’re challenging you or questioning your authority, stand like Superman.”

“How exactly does Superman stand?”

“Stand tall and plant your hands on your hips with your feet apart. Maybe puff out your chest a little.”

“I think that might work better for you since you’re six two and actually are a little intimidating.”

Merrick tapped his pointer to his temple. “It’s nothing to do with size. It’s what’s in here. Trust me. You can pull it off.”

I wasn’t sure he was right. But I appreciated him trying. At least I thought I did… Unless… “Wait, you’re not telling me that to sabotage me and asserting a power pose is going to make them go ballistic, are you?”

Merrick grinned. “No, I’m not.”

I sighed. “Okay. Well, then thanks for the advice.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

When we arrived at my floor, I turned to Merrick. “Here, give me those bags. You’re probably going upstairs to your apartment, right?”

He used his free hand to hold the elevator door open and lifted his chin, motioning for me to walk out first. “It’s fine. I’m going to grab a file from one of the analysts down here anyway.”

He followed me into my office and set the bags down on the coffee table in the patient treatment area. Then he picked up a shard of glass I’d forgotten when I left Friday night. He looked around the room. “Did something break?”

“No, I brought that with me.”

He flipped it around in his fingers. “Is it sea glass?”

I nodded.

“It’s an unusual color.”

“Turquoise is the second rarest color for sea glass. Orange is the first.”

Merrick lifted a brow. “Sea glass expert?”

“A little. I collect it.” I walked over and took the piece from his hand. “I shouldn’t give you any more ammunition to think I’m a quack, but that’s one of my lucky pieces. I meant to put it in my desk drawer the other night for safekeeping before I left.”

He smirked. “Lucky sea glass, huh?”

I wagged a finger at him. “Be nice.”

“Who are your first patients today?”

“Ummm… Let me check the order.” I went to my desk and got my calendar out of the drawer. “I started with the most senior people, so I have Will Silver at nine, Lark Renquist at eleven, and then this afternoon I have Colette Archwood and Marcus Lindey.”

“Will is a cocky bastard, but he has good reason to be. He’s talented. Lark was promoted last year. He’s young, and the older guys don’t like to report to him because they don’t feel like he’s paid his dues. It doesn’t help that he looks even younger than his age, and won’t grow a five o’clock shadow even after a marathon forty-eight hours in the office. Colette hates my guts. And Marcus is currently interviewing with our biggest competitor and doesn’t think I know.”

“Oh, wow. I appreciate the insight. But why does Colette hate you?”

“It’s a long story.” Merrick nodded toward the bags he’d set down. “Did I earn a cookie?”

I smiled. “Help yourself. There’s chocolate chip and peanut butter chunk.”

He reached into the bag and slipped a cookie out of each of the top two containers. Biting off half a peanut butter one with a single chomp, he waved it at me. “Peanut butter is my weakness.”

I might’ve remembered that when I was figuring out what to bake. But I kept that to myself.

He popped the rest in his mouth and spoke with it full. “You probably shouldn’t have told me you make these when you’re excited or angry. These cookies are the shit, and I’m really good at pissing employees off.”

I laughed. “You can also just ask.”

Merrick nodded and reached for the bag a second time. He swiped a few more peanut butter cookies and winked before heading out. When he reached the door, I called after him.

“Hey, Superman.”

He looked back.

“You think a Wonder Woman stance would work, too?”

His eyes did a quick sweep over me before a dirty grin spread across his face. “Had a huge crush on Wonder Woman when I was a kid. Whoever designed her outfit was a damn genius.”

• • •

“Should I lie down?” Will pointed to the couch.

“If you’d like, but you don’t have to.”

He jumped into the air and flounced down on the couch. He stretched his long legs out and propped his head up on a pillow with his hands tucked behind it. “Ah… This is kind of nice. I don’t know why everyone is moaning and groaning about having to come here. It’s better than kindergarten. You get milk and cookies, and then it’s nap time.”

I smiled. “Well, nap position anyway. The idea isn’t really for you to go to sleep.”

“No worries. I couldn’t fall asleep during the day if someone had a gun to my head.” Will motioned to his head and twirled his finger around. “Once this on switch gets flipped, it’s on until it runs out of power, around two AM usually.”

“Two AM? I saw you here at seven the other morning.”

“I don’t require a lot of sleep.”

“Were either of your parents that way?”

Will nodded. “My mom. She could sleep four or five hours a night and be good to go. My dad always said she was just afraid she’d miss a conversation.”

“It’s actually genetic for some people,” I said. “A few years ago, they found a gene mutation that can get passed through families. It’s called the ADRB1 gene. It causes a shortened sleep cycle.”

“No shit? I always knew I was a mutant.”

I chuckled.

Will sprang upright and put his feet on the floor. “It feels weird to talk to you without looking at you. Why is it always that way in the movies?”

“Freud believed having patients not make eye contact made them feel freer, that people were more relaxed and likely to say whatever came to their mind when they weren’t focused on being watched and were in the supine position.”

“Is that true?”

“For some people. It’s whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

Will nodded. “So how does this work? Where do we start?”

“I like to start slow, get to know each other a little bit.”

“Okay. Shoot. What do you want to know?”

I picked up the steno pad and pen I had set on the table next to me and flipped to the first open page. “Have you ever been to therapy before?”

“Does marriage counseling count?”

I nodded. “It does. Are you still actively in therapy?”

“Nope.” He held up his hand to show me a ringless finger. “Happily divorced.”

“How long ago were you divorced?”

“It was finalized about eighteen months ago.”

“And how long did you go to therapy?”

“Six sessions.”

“Oh. Did you not feel like it was working?”

“No, that’s how long it took for my ex to admit she was sleeping with the neighbor.”

“I’m sorry. Are you comfortable talking about your marriage?”

Will shrugged. “It’s not my favorite topic, but sure.”

“Do you mind if I ask if you were having marital problems before she had an affair?”

“I didn’t think so. But apparently we were. I work a lot. Brooke complained about it, but she also liked the lifestyle that came with the type of job I have. I suggested she take up a hobby. So she did: banging the neighbor.”

I smiled sadly. “How many hours a week do you work?”

“I’m usually in the office from seven-to-seven weekdays. Saturdays I work a half day from home.”

“When you go home in the evening, what do you do?”

“Now that I’m single? I play racquetball twice a week. Other than that, I usually order in or pick something up, and read the Journal while I eat. Watch a little TV maybe, answer some emails, do research while I have a drink. I also leave my socks on the floor, the toilet seat up, and snore without getting yelled at.”

“So you work about sixty hours a week in the office, plus another five or six on Saturday. And then you also spend your evenings reading business-related news, doing research, and answering emails, which probably adds another few hours each day. Would it be unreasonable to say you work eighty hours a week?”

Will shrugged. “I love my job. It’s not like I’m miserable doing it.”

“What about the people who report to you? Do they work as much?”

“Some. The good ones anyway.”

“Is it impossible to be good at your job if you only work say, fifty hours a week?”

“I didn’t say that. But this is a career that requires a lot of knowledge—knowledge of the market, trends, individual industries and corporations. And that knowledge changes by the moment.”

“Can you farm out any of the knowledge acquisition and just have someone give you the summary version?”

Will smiled. “That’s what an analyst does. It would be impossible for one person to dig deep into everything. But even just sifting through all of the different sector analysts’ summaries is a job.”

“How long have you been at Crawford Investments?”

“Since day one. Merrick and I have been friends since freshman year of college. We went to Princeton together.”

“I didn’t know that.”

He nodded. “We both worked over at Sterling Capital right out of college. After three years, he was a VP, and I was still an analyst. People don’t make VP in three years anywhere. But Merrick was smarter and worked harder than the guys who owned the place, so they moved him up fast in an attempt to keep him. When he said he was leaving, they offered him a piece of the business. He wasn’t even twenty-five yet.”

“But he didn’t take it?”

Will shook his head. “Nope. Would have been easier on him if he did. But the owners didn’t like Amelia. She worked at Sterling, too. So the two of them went out on their own.”

“Why didn’t they like Amelia?”

“Back then, Merrick said it was because Sterling was a good-old-boys club and women weren’t given the same opportunities. If we talked about it today, he might have a different opinion. Amelia was brilliant but reckless. This is a job you have to have balls for—excuse my French—but there’s such a thing as too big of balls.”

Interesting. “Merrick and I spoke a little about Amelia,” I said. “He seemed to think her departure from Crawford Investments didn’t have an effect on the staff. Would you agree?”

“Merrick spoke to you about Amelia? As in, he said her name?”

My brows drew together. “Yes.”

“Wow. You must be a good shrink. The man hasn’t uttered her name in three years, that I’m aware of.”

“Really? Well, we didn’t get into details, only the fact that she was a partner and that she’d passed away. Often a change in leadership can cause stress among the employees.” I suspected there might’ve been more between Merrick and Amelia than just a business partnership, but it wasn’t my place to ask. “I take it the split wasn’t a friendly one, if he doesn’t speak of her?”

Will nodded. “It didn’t affect the office nearly as much as it did my friend. They were engaged.”

“What happened?” Inappropriate as it was, I couldn’t stop that question from popping out. After I asked, Will’s face changed. A wrinkle formed between his brows and his mouth dipped down.

“It’s not my place to talk about. Let’s just say she annihilated my best friend.”

That didn’t sound good. Of course, it also made me more curious, but I didn’t want to push my professional boundaries any further on his first visit. So I rounded our conversation back to his job. Will seemed open to discussing anything about his work, which was good. And his cooperation went a long way in settling my nerves. I was glad he was my first client of the day.

When the alarm I’d set to signal the end of our session dinged, Will slapped his hands to his thighs. “So? Did I win a prize?”

“You sure did. Your first session is over. You’ve won your freedom for another month.”

“Nice. Wasn’t so bad.”

Considering we’d spent the hour mostly discussing the elements of his job and not really any emotions or feelings, I was glad he didn’t think it was too painful. I had a learning curve and needed to take my time with these people to earn their trust and respect. But it felt safe to push my luck a little with Will, since he was so easygoing and friendly.

“Can I ask you one more question, Will?”

“Sure.”

“If you had a do-over in your marriage, would you work less and try to be present at home more?”

He looked me in the eyes and smiled sadly. “Yeah, I probably would.”

• • •

I couldn’t believe it was already seven o’clock. Between seeing my first patients, a meeting with HR to go over the corporate org chart, and writing my session summaries, the day had flown by. I flicked off my laptop and took out my phone to text my sister to see if she wanted anything on my way home.

Before she could respond, Merrick appeared at my door. His evening visits were becoming common, but since he worked on another floor, I had to wonder if he stopped down just to see me. He had his usual worn leather briefcase flung over his shoulder, and the bag was bulging again.

“So? You survived meeting with your first employees today.” He looked me up and down. “I don’t see any bumps or bruises.”

I pulled my purse from a drawer and plopped it down on my desk. “I think I made it out unscathed.”

“How’d it go?”

“Pretty well, actually. Only one person canceled, or rather, she rescheduled.”

“She? I take it that means Colette?”

I nodded. “She had to leave early because her son was sick at school.”

“But the others didn’t give you a hard time?”

“No, they were really friendly. We talked a lot.”

“So I can go tell my board we’re cured? We won’t be getting hit with any more lawsuits?”

I laughed. “Not quite. But speaking of lawsuits, I called the attorney you recommended, and I’m meeting with him tomorrow night.”

“Good. Hope it works out. Barnett is a good guy, but he’s also a bulldog of a lawyer.”

“Any chance you have a real-estate-agent referral, too?”

Merrick nodded. “I do. Nick Zimmerman. He’ll probably disagree with you when you tell him where you want to live, but he’s a great agent. I can send an email making an introduction, if you want?”

“That would be great. Thanks a lot. And as long as you’re so amenable, could we also meet tomorrow morning for a few minutes?”

“Can’t. I’m flying out first thing.”

“Oh. How long are you gone?”

“Five days. Is it important?”

“No, not really. I’m just trying to get a handle on the culture, and I can’t discuss my thoughts or opinions with staff or employees. I have to remain neutral and encourage them to talk. Joan from HR has been great, but she doesn’t have experience living in the action like you do.”

Merrick looked at his watch. “You want to do it now?”

I held up my hands. “No. I’m supposed to be helping people reduce stress. I don’t want to get in the way of what little free time you have.”

“It’s fine.” He nodded toward the hallway. “Let me run upstairs and drop off my bag and get changed. Did you eat yet?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Pub food okay?”

I nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

“There’s a good place a few buildings over. You can grill me again while we eat.”

“That would be great. Thank you.” I smiled. “Look at us making nice all on our own. I didn’t even have to threaten to tell your grandmother.”

Merrick shook his head. “I’ll meet you by the elevator in about ten minutes, wiseass.”

“Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were already seated at a table. The waitress came by with menus and asked if we wanted to order a drink. I could’ve really gone for a glass of wine, but Merrick opted for water, so I followed his lead.

“So have my managers confirmed I’m the ogre you think I am?”

I shook my head. “No. Obviously anything said in session is privileged, so I can’t share specifics. But I will say that all of your people respect you very much.”

“Ah… So they think you’re a mole and are telling you what I want to hear.”

I laughed. “I don’t think that’s it.”

Merrick leaned back, resting his arms casually across the top of the booth. “People are talking to you, though? Not giving you a hard time?”

“The ones today did. I mean, therapy tends to start slow, so I don’t push or delve into personal things right away. We just get to know each other a bit.”

“Will liked you.”

“Oh?”

“We eat lunch together a few times a week. He mentioned you were easy to talk to.”

“That’s good to hear. I liked him a lot. He has a quick wit and dry sense of humor.”

“You can say that again. Will likes to bet on random things. Last year he came in on New Year’s Day when no one else was here. He collected all the personal photos from every employee’s desk, scanned them into Photoshop, and superimposed his own face on every kid, spouse, and dog. He egged me into betting who would notice last.”

“Oh my God,” I cracked up. “Who was it?”

Merrick shrugged. “I’ll let you know when we finally have a winner. Two people still haven’t noticed. It’s been almost seven months.”

“That’s hysterical.”

The waitress stopped by and asked if we were ready to order, but we hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. Merrick told her to come back in a few minutes.

“Do you have a favorite thing here?” I asked, looking down at the menu.

“I usually get the pub burger or the turkey club.”

“Mmm… Both sound good.” I set my menu on the table. “Want to order one of each and share?”

Merrick smiled. “Sure.” He drank some of his water. “So how do you like the job so far?”

“It’s definitely better than I thought it was going to be.”

“You thought it was going to be bad?”

“I thought it might be hell. The guy hiring me told me he was only offering me the job because I was incompetent, some of his staff recently got into a brawl, and they don’t want to see a therapist. Not exactly a rosy picture.”

Merrick tilted his head. “Yet you took the job.”

“I thought I might be able to make a difference.”

“It must be nice to have a job where you get that satisfaction.”

“Are you saying you don’t find your job satisfying?”

“It’s a different kind of satisfaction. I love the adrenaline of my job. I love to discover a needle-in-the-haystack small company that’s going to do big things, get in on the ground floor, and watch them take off. Having financial independence is definitely satisfying, but making more money for a bunch of already rich people doesn’t leave you feeling like you’ve made a difference in someone’s life.”

“What made you go into your line of work?”

“If I’m being honest, I went into it for the money, and I love the rush of the game. What about you? What made you become a therapist?”

“I went to one when I was little, and he helped me a lot. After my mom finally left my dad for good, she put me into therapy.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not ashamed of it—not anymore anyway. I was when I was little because I thought people only went to doctors when something was wrong with them. But as I got older, I realized getting help doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong. That’s actually part of the mindset that needs to change about counseling. There’s a stigma about people who need treatment for their mental health, and that stops a lot of people from seeking help. We don’t look at people differently because they go to the dentist or cardiologist, but we do if they see a psychiatrist or therapist—as if only certain parts of the body should be treated.”

“True. But I also wouldn’t have asked you to talk about your cardiologist appointment. I was apologizing for getting too personal, not because you went to a psychiatrist.”

“Oh.” I smiled. “Maybe I jumped up on my soap box unnecessarily there.”

The waitress came back and took our order. When she left, our conversation flowed back to the office, and I had Merrick explain the authority of each of the floor traders and all of the different levels of approval that were in place. I also had him walk me through who had the ability to hire and fire who, and what recent promotions had been made. I was trying to collect all the different stress triggers, so eventually I could help determine how to manage them.

“Anything else you want to know?”

“Actually, I do have another question. It’s more personal than the organizational structure, though.”

“Okay…”

“How many weeks of vacation did you take last year?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“One of the things I asked the first few people I met with today was where they went on vacation last year. I wanted to make friendly conversation and get people talking openly. I was surprised to learn that none of them went anywhere, except a weekend trip or two. Your team is highly compensated, and people who make seven figures or more tend to spend money on lavish vacations and summer homes.”

Merrick nodded. “In order to really take a vacation, you need to disconnect from the office. That means you have to trust someone else to manage your portfolio while you’re gone, which isn’t easy to do. Or you have to work while on vacation, and that doesn’t go over well when you’re supposed to be on a family trip.”

“But then they never get a break from stress, and we know chronic stress causes memory impairment. If you don’t disconnect, you become less productive at work over time. I took the liberty of asking Joan in HR for a list of vacation days taken over the last year versus how many days they were entitled to. What would you guess is the average percent of allocated days off people are taking?”

Merrick shrugged. “I don’t know. Fifty…maybe sixty percent?”

“Nineteen.”

“Shit. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“The average person gets five weeks of vacation and takes less than one.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t force them to take a trip.”

“No, you can’t. But you can force them to take their time off. You can institute a policy that all employees must utilize the majority of their time off. You could even cut their access to the company’s systems during that time.”

“I don’t know about cutting access. I think most of them would go ape shit if I did that. But maybe making vacation time mandatory could work.”

“I think that would be a great place to start. Though, like with most things, you should set the example. You can’t expect your staff to think it’s okay to disconnect for a week or two at a time if the boss isn’t doing it.”

Merrick nodded. “Point taken.”

“Can I ask you something else personal?”

He shook his head. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Oh…okay.”

“I’m just screwing with you. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Sort of like when you pretended not to know I was the woman from the fitting room for your own amusement?”

He smiled. “What’s your question?”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Are you asking because you’re interested in filling that role if I say no?”

I felt heat in my cheeks. “Oh no... I wasn’t trying to insinuate…”

“Relax, I’m teasing. “You’re actually turning pink, Dr. Vaughn.”

I hated that my face always gave me away. Touching my warm cheek, I shook my head. “Well, it’s a little embarrassing if your boss thinks you’re hitting on him your second week on the job.” Merrick looked completely amused. “You really enjoy watching me squirm, don’t you?”

He seemed to take a moment to think about it before he answered. “Oddly, I do.”

“Is this a thing you do with all your employees?”

Merrick shook his head slowly. “Just you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I have no damn idea. But to answer your question, not seriously, no.”

“Oh my God, I don’t even remember the question now.”

He grinned. “You asked if I was dating anyone.”

“That’s right.” I shook my head. “My question was related to the lack of vacation time being taken. You had said it was difficult to disconnect. But I feel like it shouldn’t be when you have someone who really captures your interest. I think we all need something that can distract us from our work.”

Merrick’s eyes flickered to my lips, causing a flutter low in my belly. He lifted his water to his mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Luckily our food arrived just then. I swapped out half my sandwich for half of his and quickly picked up the burger, feeling the need to distract myself from the way my boss made me feel. “You know, if you decide to take some time off, I know a great glamping Airbnb.”

He winked. “I think I’m more of a treehouse kind of guy.”

“Seriously, though, I know you’re exempt from the mandatory therapy, but we can all use some time off to decompress. How do you destress if you don’t even take time off?”

“There are plenty of ways to work the stress out that don’t require weeks off. Though I’m not sure HR would want me to tell you my personal favorites.”

“Ah. I guess I forget about those methods since it’s been so long.”

A little while later, we walked out of the restaurant together. I had to go left to the subway, but Merrick would be going right, back to the building where he both lived and worked.

“Thank you again for taking the time to answer all my questions—and for dinner,” I told him.

“No problem.”

“Well, have a safe trip.” I nodded toward my train. “I go that way.”

“No, you don’t.” Merrick lifted his chin. “You go that way.”

I wrinkled my nose but followed his line of sight. The dark Town Car he’d dropped me off in the other night was waiting at the curb. The driver stepped out and opened the back door.

“It’s after eight. My employees take a car service home if they work this late.”

“That’s very generous of you, but I’m fine on the subway.”

“I’m sure you are. Take the car anyway.”

I squinted. “Back to being bossy, I see.”

“Back to being a pain in my ass, I see.” He tried to keep his face stern, but he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes. “Goodnight, Ms. Vaughn.”

“Doctor Vaughn.”

His lip twitched, but he said nothing more. So I walked to the car. Before I climbed in, I looked back to say goodbye and caught Merrick’s eyes glued to my ass. I expected a sheepish look, or feigned embarrassment, at least—like I’d felt when I’d gotten caught checking him out the other day.

But there was not a morsel of either to be found.