Excerpt from The Me I Never Knew

Book #3 of the Port Simms Series

Chapter One

     Friday evening, hours after most everyone—with the exception of her boss and the cleaning staff—had left, work Pressley Saxe was still laboring away. She’d been working at Corporate and Retail Design for almost six years, counting an internship. As the head of a team, it was her job to review and improve ideas and sketches for current projects. Unfortunately, she’d fallen behind, which was the reason she’d decided to work late and catch up. As she guzzled her umpteenth mug of high-octane coffee, her boss, Helena, buzzed her. “Come to my office, please.”
     As much as Pressley liked and admired the woman, she could be abrupt when displeased. This sounded like one of those times and reminded her of her father Richard. (She preferred using his given name rather than dad.) She frowned.
     Not sure what she’d done wrong, her stomach doing stress flips, Pressley left her small office and headed down the hallway, her tired feet protesting as her heels clacked against the tile floor. Helena gestured her to the chair across her desk. Unlike Pressley’s peek-a-boo glimpse of Port Simms Bay, the view through the picture window here scanned the bay and Puget Sound beyond. Pressley coveted the space and yearned for a similar view and the prestige that would go with it. Someday.
     She sat. Her boss, an attractive fifty-something woman, looked her usual best even after the long day, with her hair pulled into a French twist and makeup fresh. She looked rested, too, whereas Pressley hadn’t combed her hair since lunch or freshened her makeup and was dead on her aching feet. “What’s up?” she greeted her boss, failing to stifle a yawn despite her anxiety.
     “Working on a Friday night? I know how hard you work but like everyone else around here, you should be long gone by now.”
     Not when her productivity wasn’t as strong as it should’ve been. She’d hoped Helena would let her do her thing and catch up, which was necessary and important. So why had she told Pressley she should go home? Uh-oh. The tension inside her reached a whole new level. Somehow, she managed a benign expression. “I need to get a few things done, and it’s nice and quiet in here with no distractions,” she explained, as lately she’d had difficulty concentrating on work.
     Helena wore a solemn, “I’m not pleased” look. Make that double uh-oh. “You’ve been tense for weeks now, and, to be frank, I’m worried about you.”
     Ice-cold hands clenched on her lap, Pressley gaped at her. “Of course, I’m stressed. My team depends on me, and I want to come through for them. I’ll get the job done. I know I will. I’ve been making good progress and plan to work all weekend.” As the pundits and her difficult father, Richard, often said, no one ever got ahead by slacking off. His best-seller, Pulling Ahead, a book about rising to the top of your profession, was touted and quoted by every CEO in the country.
     “I don’t fault you for working hard. One of the reasons I hired you was your enthusiasm for what we do here. You lit up the room and most of the people who work here. But recently, that spark I admire so much has all but disappeared. You haven’t had to travel to any of the clients in towns around here lately, which I’m sure takes some of the pressure off.” Helena paused a moment. “I have to ask—are you having second thoughts about working here?”
     What kind of question was that? Unless… Was she about to lose her job? Panic was a bad look. Maintain a calm facade no matter what, Richard had drummed into her years ago. Following the advice now, she stifled her anxiety and advocated for herself. “Of course not. I love my work.” A funny feeling in her stomach belied that, or maybe it was the ulcer. But no, the meds she’d started taking were fixing that. Her problem was fatigue. Putting in long hours could be a grind, and at the moment, she was tired of the never-ending work. But losing her job wasn’t an option.
     “That’s good to know. Still, I think you need time off. I worry about burnout. I don’t want you to make yourself sick, and I doubt your colleagues would either. With that in mind, I’ve spoken with Melanie and have decided to put her in charge of the team.”
     Stuck on the mention of Melanie replacing her, perish the thought, Pressley took a moment to comprehend what her boss had just said. Her chin jutted up. “But this is my job.” The one that could land her a promotion and the bigger office and maybe, for once, earn dear old dad’s praise. “Melanie’s only worked here a year, and I’ve been with you more than five. She doesn’t have as much experience as I do. My health is fine, I swear.” No need to bring up the ulcer. “I just—I’m under a lot of pressure. Most everyone in this company goes through this.” She hated to beg, but did so now. “Please, Helena.”
     “It’s already been decided. You have a new assignment—to let down and relax.”
     “Once I finish this project, I promise to do that.”
     “Let’s be realistic. We both know something else will come along and pull you back in. For the sake of your mental and physical health, this needs to happen now.”
     Did she have no respect for Pressley’s opinion about that? This ridiculous worry about her health had to stop now. “Please don’t insult me. I’m not some fragile, helpless woman incapable of making rational decisions about my health.”
     “And I want you to stay that way. As much as I admire Pulling Ahead—and what aspiring employee doesn’t?—making work your life is a bad idea. I’m sure your father would agree that taking a break now and then is an important part of getting ahead.”
     Not true, but she wasn’t going to correct that. Or tell her parents anything about the humiliation that was happening. As usual, Richard was traveling around the country and world, selling Pulling Ahead and the other business-related books that’d preceded it. Her mom, a busy principal who ran Greer High School, a private school in Port Simms, was off for the summer, but neither needed to find out about this blip in her career. “You’re taking me off the job with no advance notice?”
     “For now.”
     “Will putting Melanie in charge of the team be permanent?”
     “We’ll reevaluate later.”
     Not the answer Pressley had anticipated. She wanted to cry, but, of course, didn’t. “What am I supposed to do now?”
     “Here comes the fun part. My favorite place to relax and unwind is at the Moonlight Lodge and Cabins on the Olympic Peninsula. I’d love to own one particular cabin, but unfortunately, the owner prefers to rent them out. I’ve arranged for you to stay at that cabin.”
     Seriously? Pressley frowned. “I’ve heard of the Olympic Peninsula, but I’ve never been there. Where exactly is it?”
     “Not far—it’s about an hour’s drive away. It’s beautiful country, and summer is a good time of year to visit. I’m sure you’ve heard me talk about the charming place where I stay. It’s in the town of Mountain Ridge and perfect for getting away from it all. I can’t say enough about the lodge and cabins, and I’m not the only one. People from all over go there to vacation. It’s not a huge place, which is nice, and a great venue to get some R&R.”
     Pressley recalled her boss raving about her stays there. It sounded rustic, not her thing, and who wanted to stay on a mountain? She preferred a classy hotel with a spa. “I’ve always been a city girl,” she said.
     “Don’t worry, the cabins have all the modern conveniences,” Helena assured her. “From the day I hired you, you’ve barely taken more than a long weekend off, and usually on a three-day holiday. You have quite a few vacation days saved up. Surely you realize that if you don’t use them by the end of July, you’ll lose them. I know you don’t want that to happen, and that’s one reason I’m giving you a full week there on my dime to rejuvenate. If you decide to stay longer or go elsewhere, that’s fine, but after a week, the costs will be on you. Just be sure don’t forfeit those hard-earned vacation days.”
     Pressley had been so immersed in work, she hadn’t realized. “This July? I was positive I had another year.”
     “We notified you by email in January.”
     A good five months ago. Pressley didn’t recall getting it, or if she had, she’d forgotten. As always, she’d been too busy working to read a memo about vacation days. It was obvious Helena really wanted her to leave and stay away for a while. Ouch. She thought about her colleagues and shuddered. “People at work are going to wonder why I left and why Melanie’s taking over the project. What are you planning to tell them?”
     “That you realized you need to use up those vacation days right away. They’ll understand.”
     Maybe, but it wouldn’t stop the speculation. After all, she was the head person on a productive team—or had been until now. She barely stifled a frustrated groan.
     “While you’re at the Moonlight, I want your word you won’t do anything job related,” her boss went on. “You’ll be responsible for the cost of your meals—there are plenty of good restaurants on the Peninsula—but the cabin and any two activities you decide to try at the Moonlight will be comped by me. Trust me, getting away will do you a world of good. But you still need to use up the rest of your vacation days, either by continuing at the Moonlight on your own dime or by going somewhere else. I know from experience that when you come back, you’ll be refreshed and ready to work again.”
     “A whole week? Activities?” Pressley asked, unable to fathom anything she’d be remotely interested in on a mountain. Arts and crafts or a cookout? No, thanks.
     “Choose whatever you please as long as it isn’t work related. There are lots of options, and I know you’ll enjoy yourself.”
     Pressley attempted a pleased look, and Helena continued. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Although they were the only people in the office except for the janitorial staff, Helena leaned forward and lowered her voice. “When I was about your age and growing this business, I worked day and night and was on the verge of my own breakdown. At the time, the Moonlight was just the lodge and a handful of cabins—the rest of the cabins came along later. Anyway, my then-partner in the business recommended I take time away. I stayed at the lodge for about two weeks and came back a new person with a different outlook on life. That’s what I want for you.”
     Interesting, but Pressley didn’t buy into the new outlook idea. She wanted to throw a fit because the whole thing sounded crazy. Instead, she nodded because she had no choice. “Is it okay to bring a friend?”
     “That’s up to you. Just be sure to focus on you, not work.”
     Whatever that meant. Kinda hard to let go of thinking about the job when it’d been her life for six years. “What if I find activities that aren’t on Mountain Ridge more to my liking?” Someplace where she could be pampered, specifically a spa that offered facials, massages, and mani-pedis.
     “By all means, feel free to indulge. But keep in mind that I pre-paid for two activities and the cabin. Don’t waste my money, Pressley. Stay in the cabin and try at least a few of the offered activities.” She paused. “There’s no need to look so down in the dumps. You’re getting a perk I rarely share.”
     The words gave her hope. Helena wouldn’t be doing this if she expected Pressley to leave the company. “I’m grateful, really I am,” she lied.
     “Good. I want you to enjoy yourself. Roman Hagerty, the man who owns the property, is a longtime friend of mine. He knows you’re coming. If you can’t figure out what activity to try, he’ll have suggestions for you. His crew expects you on Monday.”
     Not counting today, that was only three days from now. “But that’s so soon.”
     “The time left to use those vacation days is ticking away. Leave Melanie your paperwork and notes, then go home and figure out what to pack. I advise you to take jeans and sneakers or hiking boots, and layers in case the weather shifts, along with whatever else you want. And do let me know when you’re coming back.”

*

     As Roman Hagerty was returning to the Moonlight with a group of hikers he’d taken out Monday morning, his younger brother, Philip, phoned him. “Yeah?” he answered.
     “When is the TLC woman due to arrive?”
     Roman thought back to the conversation he’d had with his Port Simms friend and regular guest, Helena, the previous Friday evening. “I assume she knows check-in time is at eleven o’clock, so anytime now. And don’t call her the TLC woman. I doubt she’d appreciate that. Her name is Pressley Saxe.”
     According to Helena, Ms. Saxe was a workaholic who’d lost her mojo and was stressed to the point of a possible breakdown. She needed time to destress rejuvenate. Nothing new about that—more than once, guests had arrived facing similar situations. Roman knew the type all too well. He imagined her uptight and too thin, with fatigue etching her face. Likely joyless and prone to tears.
     Which reminded him of his ex-fiancée, Stella. She’d once been a guest here—that was how they’d met. Beautiful but way too tightly wound, she’d made his life miserable when she wasn’t on one business trip or another. About a year-plus or so later, he’d ended the relationship that had been doomed from the beginning. Worst girlfriend of his life. Thinking about that gave him a bad taste.
     It’d be great if staying at the Moonlight and trying some of the activities helped Pressley relax and enjoy herself. She’d feel better, and he and his team would have the satisfaction of knowing they’d contributed to her well-being. Many of their grateful guests left positive reviews on social media and told their friends about their experiences. Possible bonus: Pressley’s father was a well-known, respected, and influential business author. If his daughter liked the place, there was no telling how many new customers might come his way.
     Over the years, Helena had steered more than a few people to stay at the Moonlight. As far as Roman knew, in the almost seven years since he’d taken ownership of the business, she’d never footed the bill for a cabin for one of her employees, let alone prepaid possible activities. She must really value this woman.
     He had no idea what kinds of outdoor activities she might like, but there were plenty to choose from and a variety of tours available. The choices would be up to her. “Is the cabin ready?” he asked Philip.
     “Come on, Roman, I’ve been working here since you bought the place. Yes, there are fresh flowers on the coffee table near the tray of welcome treats.”
     Later that afternoon, as Roman was greeting the visitors in the lobby as he did when he had time, he received a text. Pressley Saxe had arrived.