Page 53 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

Her honesty catches me off guard. From the corner of my eye, I see Gerald frowning thoughtfully.

"But sometimes," she continues, "what looks like a mistake turns out to be a course correction. Sometimes getting fired on your birthday leads to..." she gestures around the room, "unexpected opportunities."

"Like leading the corporate revolution?" Dave jokes.

"Like learning that change can come from within the system." Her eyes find mine. "If the system is willing to change."

The grandfather clock chimes ten, breaking the spell. Emma starts herding people toward their rooms, citing tomorrow's early strategy sessions.

I hang back, watching Mac gather her things. In the firelight, with snow falling outside and holiday decorationstwinkling, it's easy to forget she might be the anonymous blogger who's been challenging my company for months.

Easy to forget everything except how right she looks here.

"The system is willing," I say quietly when we're almost alone. "To change, I mean."

She turns, and for a moment, I see something like guilt flash across her face. "Alex..."

"Join me for a drink?" I gesture to the bar cart. "We should discuss tomorrow's diversity initiatives presentation."

"At ten PM?"

"Best time for strategic planning." I pour two whiskies. "Unless you're worried about fraternizing with the corporate overlord?"

"Please." She accepts the glass, fingers brushing mine. "Keith's the only one still using that term. Though I did catch him trying to teach the resort staff revolutionary carols at dinner."

We settle into the armchairs by the fire, close enough that I can smell her perfume – that same subtle and floral scent that makes me think of spring despite the winter storm outside.

"The board's impressed," I tell her. "With your changes. Your initiatives. Everything."

"Even Gerald?"

"Especially Gerald. Though he'd rather drink Keith's ‘communist coffee’ than admit it."

She laughs, then sobers. "Alex, there's something I should?—"

A crash from the hallway interrupts her. We rush out to find Keith, still in his signature beret (now with added snow cleats), tangled in what appears to be climbing gear.

"I can explain," he says from his position on the floor.

"Please do." Mac crosses her arms. "Keeping in mind that I saw you googling 'how to organize a mountain revolution' earlier."

"The people's voices must be heard! Even at eight thousand feet!"

"Keith." I use my CEO voice. "Were you planning to scale the lodge's facade to hang protest banners?"

"...maybe?"

"In a snowstorm?"

"The revolution waits for no weather!"

"The revolution," Mac helps him up, "can wait until after the strategy sessions. And maybe invest in some basic climbing lessons first."

We escort Keith back to his room, confiscating both the climbing gear and what appears to be a manifesto written on resort stationery.

"Still think inviting him was a good idea?" Mac asks as we head back to the great room.

"You're the one who said we needed all voices represented."

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