Redeemed

Redeemed

By Ann M. Streetman

Copyright 2012 Ann M. Streetman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Author’s Note

About the Author

Connect with the Author

Chapter 1

Kimberly frowned at her computer monitor. The numbers just weren’t adding up for Jim Barons, one of her favorite clients. He was an older guy close to retirement. A nice old guy. Didn’t deserve such a bad surprise at this stage in his life.

What advice could she give him? Stay the course? Not much time for that.

She rolled her chair away from the monitor and pushed her bangs away from her face with a perfectly manicured hand. The red nails slipped through her thick blonde hair which had a hint of a wave. She got up and looked out her 14th floor window at the New York City skyline. How she loved it. The view. Her job. She smiled, thinking she had come a long way from her tiny town in East Texas. A long way in every sense. She really loved the work, the office, the city.

She glanced at her watch. It was 3:00. Usually, she stayed until 6:00 and sometimes later. She might just leave at 5:00 or 5:30 today. She felt just a little festive, looking forward to the matinee performance of Mamma Mia on Saturday. Not her kind of music, but everybody said it was fun. Yes, why not leave at 5:30. She would pick up a bottle of merlot and maybe some fresh flowers before she grabbed a cab to her apartment.

She walked back to her desk and formulated a plan to suggest to Mr. Barons. At 3:30 her intercom buzzed. She could see that it was her supervisor. She put a smile on her face and answered. Hello, Ray. How are you this beautiful Friday afternoon? she asked.

I’m fine, Kimberly. I need you to come to my office right away. Say five minutes? her supervisor said.

Of course, Ray. I’m on my way, she said. She cradled the handset, wondering why he was in such a hurry to see her on a Friday afternoon. She looked into the compact mirror, refreshing her blush and lipstick. Not too bad for almost 30, she said under her breath. But she had never been preoccupied with her natural blonde, blue-eyed good looks and good figure. She picked up her notepad and left her office. As she walked down the hall it occurred to her that Ray had sounded funny. His voice seemed strained. There was a strange formal note in it. He was always pleasantly informal when he called. In fact, they usually engaged in some kind of banter. Often about sports. Her Cowboys. His Redskins. Maybe he was getting some kind of flak from his boss and was calling her in to help him fix the problem.

She leaned against the back of the elevator, studying her gray suede shoes peeking from gray flannel slacks as she rode up two floors with a co-worker whose name she did not know. Have a good weekend, he said, as he waited for her to step out of the elevator. Not bad, he said to himself. She was a looker. Not a babe, but a polished looker.

She turned to the left. Thanks. You, too, she called over her shoulder. She hesitated just a moment in front of the door marked Raymond J. Crenshaw. Regaining her smile, she wrapped twice and heard,

That was fast. Come in.

What can I do to help? she asked as she walked into the room.

He motioned to one of the handsome chairs across from his desk. Sit down, Kimberly, he said.

His face was flushed and she did not recognize the voice. Not at all.

They’ve pulled the rug out from under us, Kimberly. They’re letting us both go. Ronald, too, he said.

Kimberly’s heart raced and she leaned forward. What are you talking about, Ray?

I just came out of a meeting. They are merging our division with Jerry’s. Necessary cost-cutting. Can’t be helped they said. His eyes met Kimberly’s. I’m as sorry as hell, but there’s not a thing I can do about it, he said.

Kimberly squirmed in her chair. But, Ray, it doesn’t make any sense. You and Ronald and I are top performers. Everybody knows that. And, Ronald. He’s not that far from retirement. I was talking to him about it just last week. He was beginning to seriously plan some good things for him and Beverly.

I know. But, when you stop to think about it, we are the logical choices to get the savings in salaries and benefits they are looking for, he said.

Isn’t that a little like killing the goose that laid the golden egg? she asked.

Well, some people think so. But it really isn’t. There are plenty of young Turks where we came from. They will haul ass and get the numbers up in a hurry, he said.

Well, it’s good to see that you have so much faith in younger people, she replied.

Like it or not, Kimberly, we’re it. We are the ones going. I asked if they would let me break the news to you because I felt like I owed you that much, and a lot more. I’m as sorry as hell. He shoved some papers across the desk, and she took them.

He smiled. The only good news here is that the severance package is decent. You’ll need to look it over and go to personnel for paperwork. At 4:30 there will be a security officer with boxes at your office to oversee your packing up and escort you out of the building by 5:30, he said.

He stood up. Don’t fight it Kimberly. There’s nothing illegal, immoral, unethical, or evil here to fight. It’s not personal. It’s just about the numbers, he said. Please excuse me, I have my own personnel paperwork to do and my own set of boxes coming at 4:30, he said.

He came from behind his desk and extended his hand. She took it. You’ll find another job, Kimberly. Somebody out there will scoop you up, he said. You’ll see. You will have another job before I do, he said. He patted her shoulder.

It’s been good to work for you Ray. You’ve always been fair, more than fair, and you’ve trusted me with important clients. Thank you, she said. She turned quickly and walked out his door.

Back in her office, she looked around the room in disbelief. Her MBA from the Columbia Business School had served her well, but it had not prepared her for this. She felt like this kind of thing happened to other people. The bottom feeders. The people who cut corners and stabbed their colleagues in the back. The people who looked out for themselves instead of the company all day every day. She could never have been a slug like that. It was not in her. Now she was facing unemployment precisely because she had been a strong, honest performer. She knew Ray was right. Their dismissal was not illegal, immoral, unethical, or evil, but it damn well hurt. It hurt a lot.

She was pouring over the severance package when the security officer knocked on her door at exactly 4:30. Come in, she called. He entered her office carrying three big boxes. It was Mack.

I can get more if you need them, Ma’am, he said.

Well, Mack, you and I have closed the place down a lot of nights. It looks like this will be the last one, she said.

Yes, Ma’am, it sure does. I’m sorry about all this. We’re sure going to miss you around here, he said.

At 5:15 Kimberly maneuvered the tape gun to seal the third box. Too bad, she said. I was just getting the hang of this gizmo and now I’m all done.

Mack brought a dolly into the room and stacked the boxes on it. Kimberly walked over to her window and took a long look at the skyline. Lights were twinkling across Manhattan. On the streets below people were hailing cabs and rushing toward subway stations. They were hurrying toward a perfect fall evening with friends and family.

Well, Mack, it’s time to go home, she said. He wheeled the dolly into the hall and held the door open for her. She paused at the door, took one more look at her office, and turned off the lights.

Her apartment doorman helped her get everything up to her quarters. When they finished, Glen O’Sullivan said, It looks like you had a pretty rough day. I’m sorry Ma’am. I hope you’ll be feeling a lot better real soon, he said.

She handed him three twenties and said, Thanks for all your help, Glen. I hope you have a good weekend. And, give those devilish freckled-faced cute grandkids a hug for me.

He tipped his hat. That I will do, Ma’am. And, if they were here tonight, they would be finding ways to make you forget your troubles for a while. They are a handful, those two.

She had to go down to the mailbox, but she wanted to spare him and herself any more brave conversation. She waited until she heard the elevator door bell ring and the doors close before walking back toward it.

Mail in hand, she kicked off her shoes, and went to the refrigerator, praying there would be a bottle of something in it.

She sighed when she saw a half-full bottle of merlot, not a very good one, but it would have to do.

She changed into sweats and sipped the merlot. When it was gone, she set the empty glass on the coffee table. She wished there were a little more. Curling up on the couch, she pulled the warm throw up to her chin. She had a lot of planning to do, but not tonight. Her business training and horse sense inherited from her mother told her not to tackle anything tonight. Not even getting undressed and into bed. She closed her eyes. She drifted off to sleep, hearing the unfamiliar tone of Ray’s voice announcing their termination. She saw Mack’s kind eyes, Glen’s reassuring face, and a high stack of boxes. The one on top looked like it was teetering, just about to fall on her.

Chapter 2

The next morning she was startled by the alarm clock going off in the bedroom. For a few seconds she wondered why she was on the couch instead of lying in her bed, and then she remembered everything.

In her kitchenette, she made eight cups of coffee, one scrambled egg, and a piece of whole grain toast. After doing the dishes, she picked up her briefcase and settled back onto the couch with the fourth cup of coffee. Now she was ready to crunch the severance package numbers across weeks or months of her life.

Added to the severance dollars were $10,000 in savings that she thought she could spare. She made a quick weekly budget, devoid of the few little extravagances that she usually enjoyed. There would be no entertainment. Very little eating out, except for networking coffees and lunches. She made an austere but livable budget for six months. She probably would have a job within three or four months, but she figured six, just to be safe. She smiled, feeling like she had a very decent plan that she could live with.

She looked at her watch. Time to get dressed for Mamma Mia. She would pick up a few groceries and toiletries on the way home. Of course, she would make a list. It was no time to go into any store without a clear purpose and adherence to a list. That was Personal Finance 101 that she had mastered when she was in college on a scholarship and only a few extra dollars here and there from her mother. She dreaded telling her mother about losing her job. Her mother had always been there for her. Giving some unsolicited advice, for sure, but backing off when it was rejected. Kimberly had never felt poor when she was growing up. She smiled, wondering how her tough little widowed mother had managed to pull that one off. It was time for her to be tough, too. She would call her mother tonight after the show. One of those hard things that she had to do.

At intermission, Kimberly mingled with the matinee crowd. She pushed past the usual tourists thrilled by their first Broadway show. She remembered her first show. It was Cats right here in the Winter Garden Theatre. She observed several white-haired ladies whose evening outings had morphed into matinees. Kimberly felt a little embarrassed by the fact that she had chosen matinee over evening. She wasn’t ready to be permanently classified as matinee only. She had just expected to be swamped and having to go to the office on Sunday to catch up. Well, not now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice calling from across the small lobby. Kimberly.

Brad Crawford was waving.

Kimberly raised a hand in greeting. She mouthed, Hi Brad. She gave him a big smile and hurried away to take her seat in the theater. She was in no mood for an encounter with a guy who had ditched her a year ago for someone who did not work all the time. She shook her head. Her relationship with Brad had always been a matter of bad timing. When they met through mutual friends, they both had been on the rebound, and they were handling their recent failures very differently. He seemed to be determined to set the record straight on his prowess. And, she was burying her sadness in long hours of work. There was no doubt that she found his dark hair, deep blue eyes, and broad shoulders appealing. He could be in the handbook of ordinary certified hunks, but he was way too self-absorbed for her taste. So, she remained just barely out of his grasp for six weeks. The calls stopped, and she was relieved. She had assumed that he had lost interest in the pursuit, and she did not want to take any chances with reviving it again.

The lights dimmed and the ABBA songs raised the roof again.

The audience went wild, clapping and singing along during the curtain calls. It was impossible not to get caught up in the enthusiasm. When the last curtain call ended Kimberly was smiling. She slipped out the stage door, still intent on avoiding Brad. On a whim, she walked toward Times Square instead of her subway station. She had always felt at home in the crowds jostling through Times Square.

As twilight began to fall, the bright LED M & M rotating signs competed with billboards for shows and the current must-haves. The occasional anonymous elbow and shoulder contact didn’t bother her at all. She smiled when she spotted the Naked Cowboy with his strategically placed guitar. He was posing between two giggling young women. Hey, a guy has to make a living, and he seemed to be doing all right.

She stopped at a cart, ordered a hot dog with everything on it, and tucked it into her bag for supper at home. Then she headed toward the nearby subway station for a train that would take her back to her neighborhood for a quick shop for the items on her list.

An hour later, she changed into some comfy PJs and hit the favorites icon on her cell phone.

Hello, Kim. I’ve been thinking about you today. Is everything all right? her mother asked.

Kimberly hesitated for a second or two. Hello, Mom. Everything is not all right. She was having trouble keeping a steady voice with the one person who knew her well. I lost my job yesterday, she said.

What? Did I hear you right? You lost your job? she asked.

A soft sob came in reply. That’s right, Mom. I did.

Why in the world did that happen? her mother asked.

They needed to cut back on expenses. That’s all. It’s just business, Kimberly said.

Well, they have a funny way of doing business to let one of their best people go.

Ray, too, said Kimberley.

Well, I never in my life heard of such foolishness, her mother replied. I remember Ray. Nice fellow. Do you need me to come and help you, Kim? she asked.

No, I’m fine, Mom. Really I am. I have a decent severance package, and I have made a detailed plan of how to use it wisely while I find a new job, Kimberly said.

Well, that’s good. I’m not surprised that you have a plan. You always did, even when you were a little girl, her mother said. Pride was evident in her voice.

I’ve got to go now, Mom. I haven’t had supper yet. I just wanted to let you know about all this. Good night, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon, she said.

Good night, Kim. You are always on my prayer list, but I will rev it up a notch or two, her mother said.

Kimberly blew her nose and enjoyed a mental picture of her mother revving up her prayers. She was glad to have that woman on her side.

Kimberly savored every bite of the hot dog warmed up in her tiny microwave. There was more strategic planning to do, but she was giving herself the rest of the evening off. She sipped two glasses of bargain merlot as she watched an episode of 24 recorded earlier in the week and took pot luck on several channels. At 11:00, she was ready to go to bed. Day 1 of being unemployed had been a little rough around the edges, but it had been manageable.

Chapter 3

Kimberly was dressing for a Halloween party with a small group of friends. She had been firing off job applications and networking with colleagues. She was definitely not in a party mood, but it was another networking opportunity, and a free one at that. At least, it was free except for the subway fare and bottle of wine she was taking.

She heard the music and laughter through the door of Janet’s apartment. She had to keep up appearances with light banter and a smile on her face. She wasn’t really up to it, but she had to do it.

Janet opened the door. Kimberly, come in. You look great. She yelled into the kitchen, Hey, everybody, it’s Kimberly. You can put your jacket on the bed. Thanks for the wine. I’ll chill it a little, she said.

Kimberly walked into the kitchen. I think you know everyone here, except Kevin Carter. Kevin, this is Kimberly Randolph. We’ve known each other since our days at the Columbia Business School. Kimberly used to help me with assignments. I wouldn’t have made it without her, she said.

Kevin approached her, So you were the wunderkind, he said.

She shook her head. No, Janet just likes to be dramatic. Besides that, sometimes her memory is a little faulty. She thought, it’s time for a little networking. So, Kevin, where do you work?

I just took a new job at Raymond James. Been there only a couple of weeks. It’s OK, he said, pouring himself a little more wine. May I pour you some? he asked.

He moved a little too far into her space and gave her a let’s get in the sack smile. It was obvious that he’d been drinking for a while. He said, We could get out of here and have a little party of our own.

Kimberly thought networking be-damned. This guy is a creep. She was surprised that Janet invited such a creep. He was definitely not the