When she stood, her knees wobbled a little. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and adjusted her suit jacket. “It’s time.”
Natalie stepped around the desk, enveloping Delaney in a bear hug of support. “Go get them, darling.”
Delaney paused, remembering the beginning of the conversation. “Natalie, you never told me what news you had?”
Natalie shook her head, still refusing to meet Delaney’s eyes. “It’s nothing. Just a rumor. You’re the best candidate; you’ve been doing the job for six months. Benson would be crazy not to hire you for the vice president’s role of learning.”
“We’ve heard that before.” Delaney laughed, the sound shaky to her own ears. She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”
She walked down the hall closer to the lobby. Benson was the museum curator and the head of all the museum staff. His office was right off the lobby with beautiful windowed views of the front and the gardens. Before her fall from grace, she’d often sat in that office while working with her mother directing museum activities. It was one of her family’s charitable endeavors. She always thought that, if she had an office in the museum, it would be close to his, as a trustee, as a benefactor, not as a common employee relegated to the bowels, hidden and forgotten.
Her new office suited her now, suited her new life, away from all the prying eyes, the whispering voices, the pointing fingers. She was making a difference in the actual running of the museum, something she had always wanted to do. It just wasn’t the way she had expected.
Delaney rapped on Benson’s office door and he gestured her to a seat. “Close the door, Ms. Winters.”
Benson stood looking out over the gardens, his back to her. She slipped into one of the chairs, crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap as her mother had taught her all those years ago. She waited patiently, scarcely breathing, while Benson continued staring at the garden, his hands twisting in the folds of his dress slacks, shoulders tense. A twinge of alarm niggled the back of her head, and she clenched her hands in her lap, vainly trying to remain still and outwardly calm. Doubt and fear pumped through her veins, a dull roaring of blood rushing in her ears, the longer the seconds then minutes ticked by with no comment from her boss.
Finally, he faced her and heaved a sigh. He sat on the wooden file cabinet that buttressed against the window. He looked up at her and sighed again.
Her heart plummeted. “I didn’t get the job.”
He shook his head. “No. While you were an excellent candidate, the trustees had some concerns about your qualifications.”
She suppressed a flash of anger, the instant reaction to retaliation by her former friends. “What was their concern?”
He stepped away from the file cabinet and sat on his desk chair. “They were concerned that you didn’t have enough experience or education to run the educational programs here at the museum. They’re very protective of our programs, as you are well aware.”
She clenched her fists in her lap, willing herself to remain calm. After a moment, when she was confident her voice would not shake, she asked, “What additional qualifications would I need for this position?”
He pursed his lips and shuffled a few papers around, averting his gaze. A common reaction on this day, she noticed. “Delaney, why did you want this role? What is your five-year plan? When you started here, it was a stop-gap measure, a way to help your family. Is this what you really want to do with your life?”
Hell no. She wanted to scream. This is not how my life was supposed to be. She willed her tense muscles to relax, her clenched jaw to smooth out, to not show her desperate fear that was building with every avoidance.
“No. I wanted this job because I’ve been doing it for six months.”
Although he was also correct. It would have been much better to go to the wedding as a vice president at the museum rather than a manager of the docents. It would have assuaged her guilt and made her appear stronger in front of her former peers.
“Well, Delaney, I’m glad to hear that. You’re a valuable member of our staff and we’d hate to lose you.”
His words sounded practiced, memorized for when he had to tell staff they didn’t get a job or were fired. His words were bullshit, a word she had gotten comfortable using the further away she was from having to maintain a certain appearance. And it fit the situation. It reeked of rot and privilege and patronage. She knew exactly whose hands had smeared that shit on her.
“Kira Van Owen didn’t want me to have this job, did she? What did she promise if you gave it to her favorite?”
“I never said who got the job.” He sputtered, but his averted gaze gave him away. “Serena has more experience dealing with the trustees, and this role requires that you deal with them on a daily basis. There were some concerns that there might be some difficult feelings, some tension remaining between you and the Van Owen family, since your broken engagement.”
“Bullshit.” The word shot out of her like a bullet, and Benson flinched as if physically impacted. “Serena is an intern, barely out of college, and has actually no experience running the educational programs. She doesn’t know a Monet from a Manet, or a Picasso from a Vermeer. And you’re going to have her educating our blue-blood patrons?”
Delaney jumped up, began pacing the office, warming to her subject and letting her temper have free rein. “You only hired Serena because she comes from the right family and has the right patrons. She’s not going to do a damn thing for educational programs and you know it. You owe this museum a responsibility to hire the right staff. Lord knows you quoted that to me a thousand times in the past five years, usually when you weren’t sure that you should’ve hired me. But I’ve more than made up for any doubts you could have. And this is how you repay me?”
Benson stood, a conciliatory expression on his face. “Delaney, you know you’re a valuable member of our staff...”
She leaned on his desk, face-to-face with him. “Prove it. You know this is wrong. Make the right decision.”
He looked away, shoulders slumping. “I can’t and you know it.”
She snapped up straight. “Well, that’s it, then. I can’t report to her. And I sure as hell won’t be doing her job. So that leaves me with one choice.”
His head flew up, eyes widening in alarm. “You can’t quit, Delaney. You need this job. You need us.”