The meeting with Waylor was in some place out of town, about twenty miles off Seattle—in Bothell. The diner restaurant was nondescript, and the patrons were scarce. She walked to the end of the room and recognized the other gentleman Abram had introduced her to during breakfast at Eggs and Flowers. He was not Waylor.
He was casually dressed, fitting the atmosphere of the place—so was Gina. Waylor had told her what to expect from the place, "We would just be two suburbanites having dinner," his text to her said.
He stood up as she approached, and formally introduced himself and they shook hands, unlike two intimate suburbanites.
"I'm sorry Mr. Waylor cannot make it in the last minute but insisted this meeting with you
It was a glorious day for all of them. The Trelleco board had met and came out to support the Indonesian project, and appointed Abalido and Quinaeros Inc. as their consulting partner. The decision was unanimous—Abram got the unity he wanted not only at the management, but also at the board levels. Kronos had withdrawn their bid the day before when Aerlman—as Trelleco's COO—requested a clear list of key resources to be included in their counterproposal—as he did Abalido and Quinaeros. He acted on the advice Gina gave through The Boss. Surely enough that would have disclosed Kronos' intention to supply inadequate resources if they had not pulled out. To the people who knew, Gina was the star of the private party that the two companies jointly threw together that evening. With the latest thing
"So, you’re finally letting her go," Abram said, seated comfortably, gnawing a cigar, with a drink in his hand—The Boss was doing the same. The Boss said, "I have to," from the mentally opposite side. "It was her decision." He brought to mind the day following their talk the evening after the celebratory party; she had called him to say she was seriously considering the offer, and needed a week to think—and thus his turbulent state of mind. She got back to him yesterday to confirm. Crushed—the seconds that passed tortured him all throughout the night. He met with Abram the following day—this day—to let him know. He forced himself to come to terms with her decision: she would take Abram's job offer and leave him.
She was not sure how to enjoy the glitz, attention, and admiration she received on the night of the lavish farewell party The Boss threw for her. She would leave for Jakarta as a Trelleconian the following day, and cease to call Georg her boss—and start calling Abram her boss, instead. Something she had never thought would happen. It was surreal—and not something she enjoyed at all. The Boss was her boss now and always—that stood no more. She saw he had spared no expense for her. He closed down the entire Eggs and Flowers for the party, and had them fill the room up with more flowers than what it already had. He made sure that not only the entire management of Abalido and Quinaeros were there that night, but also people who were dear to her. Rocco was there, and a couple of clients she had had cl
She looked out the window. It was raining outside. The plane was still taxiing, rolling slowly on the taxiway. This was it, the last time she would be in the land of her hometown for a long time. She had planned to go back no sooner than six months. If she was to start anew, then today should be her past, tomorrow should be her today, and yesterday should not be revisited too soon. She would not think about the people she left. Not her friends, nor those who were once her clients back in Abalido and Quinaeros—like Roy. Not even Rhonda, the last person she said goodbye to just an hour ago at the airport. And not The Boss—especially not him. She had to make room in her mind for new people, new acquaintances, and new kinds of relationships. She took out the card from her purse—Rhonda had saved