Finding Elora

Chapter 2

ABBY

I tap my fingers against the metal sides of the chair and stare at the giant brown desk in front of me. It's cluttered, but so is the rest of the office. Shelves upon shelves full of random knickknacks and paper files nobody will ever go through span the length of the room, and I shift uncomfortably in my chair as I eye the man sitting behind the desk.

Mark's dressed down today, his usual plaid, button-up shirt replaced with a thick gray long sleeve. I can't see what he's wearing on bottom, but I doubt slacks. They wouldn't match. He's probably wearing dark jeans, which rarely happens.

It makes him appear more approachable.

I glance at the clock, beyond bored as I listen to Mark drone on about next year's forecast.

He doesn't like the numbers, and he also seems to think that's something I can change.

I don't think he understands what my job is. I can't make money appear out of thin air, despite how much we all wish for that. Our revenue isn't something I can control, and if he wants more money, accounting isn't the department to find it.

He should be complaining to sales.

"This isn't what I was hoping for," Mark sighs.

He's said that already. Twice during this meeting, to be exact.

"I know," I say.

Mark moves to run his fingers through his hair before freezing and dropping it back to the desk. He has gel in it today, and the gray strands are slicked away from his face. If he touches it, he's going to ruin it.

"I just wasn't expecting this," Mark continues. He should have. He's been warned enough times. "I truly thought we were doing better than this."

I think he wants me to apologize, maybe even offer to redo the work to see if I can make things appear better, but I won't. We both know the only way out of our deficit is to lower our costs, and payroll is our largest one.

The company can't afford all its employees, and as sad as it is, some people need to be let go. I'd say at least three, which is a considerable amount for a company this small.

Mark looks stressed as he flicks through the spreadsheet I shared with him yesterday morning. I'm surprised it took him this long to call me into his office, but I'm glad he took a day to absorb the information and think it over. Mark's a relatively nice guy, but he has a bit of a temper.

I don't enjoy being on the receiving end of it.

A few tense seconds pass between us, and I debate asking to be excused. My projections aren't a mistake, and it's not fun sitting here watching him mentally break down. It's going to give me a stress rash, and Lill gets painfully motherly when she sees one.

Maybe I should take her advice and quit my job.

I've got enough saved to support us for a few months while I look for a new one. I don't think I'll find anything that pays well in town, but if I look at one of the nearby larger cities, I'm sure I'd find some good opportunities.

That would mean moving, though, which I'm hesitant to do.

Lill and I have been renting our current apartment since we finished college, and I've come to think of it as home. It's full of memories, good and bad, and I'm not ready to let go.

Plus, the rent is dirt cheap.

If I could go back and do it over, I'd choose a different degree. Maybe sales or marketing. Those people always seem to be having a good time, and they make decent money for what feels like half the work. I could get on board with that, and I think I'd be good at it.