Page 87 of The Ripple Effect

Beside me, Lyle shifts in his chair, taking a slow, stoic breath. He sounds like he does during morning meditation when he talks about accepting whatisinstead of what you wished for.

Sharon leans forward. To this point, she’s been all business, but now her eyes soften. “I’m sorry, Stellar. I meant we’d be wise to cancelallsessions after the second. If not that one as well. We’re in an incredibly untenable position, business-wise. Corporate espionage is a very difficult charge to prosecute. Realistically, we’ll have to spend a metric fuckton of money on lawyers so Fisher doesn’t publish our methods, then turn around and sue us for using them. Or we’ll have to close down the company.”

Under the table, Lyle’s left hand encloses mine, squeezing reassuringly. A pulse of sadness hits me as I feel the empty space where his ring used to be.

Of the two of us, I’m pretty sure I’m more upset about what’s happening. Which is unexpected, considering this is Lyle’s baby, and he has no other job prospects.

But I do. Last night, I unblocked the hospital domain on myemail, feeling guilty for even considering a job that’s not the Love Boat. This morning, I received a headhunting email from Grey Tusk General—an invitation to lunch with the new chief of emergency medicine.

“One last piece of bad news—”

“Seriously, Sharon?” I rub my gritty, tired eyes.

“Yeah, I know, it’s a parade of suck. Renee Garner’s team reached out this morning. Seems she’s ‘rethinking’ her collaboration with Fisher. She had a podcast spot earmarked for him, with the recording scheduled for two days from now. She’s offered it to us. Production schedule permitting, she’d air it this week. Special episode.”

A seed of hope sprouts in my chest. “This is… bad news? I mean, this might be our only hope to stay alive past next session. We could stick it to Fisher. Take back what he stole. Renee’s offering us a chance.”

Lyle shakes his head. “But look at what she’snotoffering. None of her people at our second session. No long-term collaboration. She’ll be in damage control mode, trying to distance herself from Fisher and maybe from the whole idea of whitewater therapy. She could help us, and she could hurt us, too.”

Sharon’s mouth pulls pessimistically to one side. “Even if we turn her down, we might get caught up in her spin machine. She won’t air McHuge’s juvenile record unless she wants me to sue her ass down to the earth’s molten core. But the fake engagement, Sloane’s endorsement, Stellar’s employment and family history… all fair game.”

I blanch. My lunch date with Grey Tusk General could go away if Renee Garner hinted I’d misrepresented my medical qualifications to the Love Boat’s clients. I didn’t, but that wouldn’t matter; a rumor would be enough to sink me. Not many patients—or hospitals—would want a doctor who spent the lastyear making sure the General Tso’s chicken was still hot when it arrived.

Sharon sweeps her papers into a tidy pile. “Let’s take the day to process. Shutting down a business is emotional. It does none of us any good to pretend it’s not. What?” she says, at my flabbergasted look. “Why does everyone act so surprised when I have feelings?”

She comes in for a strong hug, careful of my arm. “The two of you can let me know what you think of the podcast invite. I’m good either way, but I’m not the person who has to go on the damn thing.”

Lyle makes me lie on his couch while he puts together lunch. We haven’t had time for a grocery run, and he insisted only he could find his way around the remaining nonperishables. Not true—I can do miracles with a can of chickpeas and some salad dressing, but last night’s disaster and this morning’s meeting have left me with a bone-deep fatigue that renders me unable to overcome the couch’s gravitational pull.

I pop two Tylenol and drift a little, listening to Lyle’s cooking sounds while I stroke Babe’s ears. The Love Boat had excellent beds by camping standards, but they were nothing compared to this couch. It’s a Lyle-sized ocean of fuzzy blankets and plush pillows that might be the gateway to an alternate spiritual plane.

Lyle appears with a tray. “Mixed-berry smoothie, cinnamon vanilla pancakes, bacon, jam, real maple syrup, and steamed broccoli,” he announces proudly. He sets the tray across my lap, then settles at my feet with his plate.

“Broccoli, Chef?” I ask, twirling a floret at the end of my fork.

“You need something green. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

I smile weakly. Doctor jokes don’t feel very funny after Sharon’s briefing. “These are good pancakes.”

“From my finest boxed mix. I got the cinnamon and vanilla trick from Jasvinder.”

I put down my fork at the reference to our Love Boat family.

“What are we going to do?”

He takes an unhurried sip of his smoothie. “Well. I figure as long as we can find another rescue paddler, we’ll run the second session. I’ll take over first aid on the water.”

I suck in a hopeful breath.

“If you want to come back, we’ll keep you in camp, and you can do dryland days. I’d like to pay Jasvinder for as long as we can and honor our existing food orders with local suppliers. Give everyone as much time as possible to find a new situation.” His sigh hitches on the way out. “After that, we take down the tents. Sell the boats. Settle our debts.”

“Oh. Right.” I deflate like a sad balloon.

“I know we promised to hold on,” he says, putting his plate on the coffee table, then standing up to set aside my tray. He settles himself behind me, then pulls my back against his chest. “And we did. We held on as long as we could. It’s not wrong to move on when you’ve done everything you can.”

“But aren’t you sad? Aren’t youangry? This wasn’t just any job for me, Lyle. The Love Boat meant something to me. You built a special place.Webuilt it together.”

He gathers me close, breathing in the scent of my hair, which smells like his shampoo—a citrusy blend that would go well with Earl Grey and honey. We stay like that for a minute, then two, then three, hurting for something we both love that was the perfect thing at the perfect time, until everything came crashing down.

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