Holding My Breath

When I walked into the office on Monday, Sam paced the lobby.  I saw him before he saw me and I watched him run his index finger across his bottom lip.  Back and forth, back and forth.  I’d begun to notice that the suit he wore to work each day reflected how he expected the day to go.  Sharp black suit paired with a blue tie meant he was anxious about a meeting and wanted to make an impression.  Tan meant he felt more relaxed and would probably spend most of his time on the phone.  Today he wore a black suit (he was awaiting the phone call from Whole Foods) but had paired it with a red tie (freaked out).

He started when he spotted me watching him and reached for my hand.

“C’mon,” he said, and had already turned to walk away before I took it.

I hesitated for a moment and then let him wrap his fingers around mine and pull me toward the staircase.  I didn’t even watch where I was going.  I didn’t even care.  I stared at his hand around mine and let him lead me wherever he wanted.

“They called,” he finally said in explanation as we reached the third floor.  “Your dad wouldn’t tell anyone anything until you got here.”

“He wouldn’t?” I asked, surprised.

“He said everyone on the team deserved to hear the news together since we all worked on it.”

Deserved to hear the news.  That could go either way.

Sam stopped in front of the conference room door.  He dropped my hand and gave me a wry smile.  I knew I was imagining it but our close proximity made the air around us feel statically charged.  I had an almost overwhelming urge to pull him into my arms and reassure him that no matter what my dad said on the other side of that door, he was amazing.  He would rest his head on my shoulder and I’d run my fingers over the golden hair around his temples and we’d stay there in that moment forever.  But Sam reached out and turned the doorknob and we turned to face reality instead.

“Come in,” my dad said when he saw me.  I tried to read his eyes but he was impossibly good at keeping a straight face.  If there was a surprise party to throw, you wanted him in charge.

The other marketers, minus Jackson, sat around the table on the edge of their chairs; Jackson had stopped showing up for work before Sam had gotten the chance to let him go.  Jenny, my dad’s assistant, sat up front—his right hand woman.  Sam silently held a chair out for me and I took it.  Then he slipped into the chair next to me and we waited.

My dad cherished these moments—the ones where he had control and got to make everyone wait.  He found it hysterical.  Even more so when he had good news to share.  So when the clock ticked past ten seconds of silence, I knew what it meant.  A grin stretched across my face and I laughed.  My dad’s icy mask broke and he laughed too.  Everyone in the room glanced back and forth between us as we shared a joke they hadn’t caught onto yet.

“What?” Sam asked like he might burst.

Dad and I laughed harder.  “They’re in!” I said.  Dad nodded a confirmation.

Sam shot out of his chair and crossed the room to pull my dad into a hug.  They laughed together and patted each other hard on the back in a show of manly affection.  Everyone else chattered their congratulations to each other, shaking hands across the conference room table.  But all the noise was merely a background to Sam’s smile.  He was so happy.  We did it.  Today was the start of something life-changing for our company and for our family.  And Sam would be a part of it.

“We have to celebrate,” my dad said.  “Jenny, can you throw together a party at the vineyard for Friday night?”

Her eyes widened but she nodded, too excited to say no.

“And we’re going to need the first fifty bottles of our new Whole Foods Cabernet Sauvignon,” he said, blinking back tears.  We all cheered.  It was one of those perfect moments in life when you know one day you’ll look back and say, “Do you remember that day?  That was a great day.”

Sam didn’t let his excitement overcome him for too long.  Before everyone else had finished celebrating the news, he pulled me out of the conference room and back to his office.  As he rounded his desk, he pointed to a stapled stack of papers in front of the chair I usually occupied.