***Beth***

"You're late!"

Beth heard Donna sing-song her announcement as she rushed between desks. It was just past 8:40.

"Yeah, but only by five minutes," Beth replied, grabbing her file and notes.

"By whose watch?"

"Mine, baby, mine! Which room are they in?"

"End of the hall," Donna said as Beth continued her headlong flight down the hallway. The meeting had started promptly at 8:30. Beth knew this because all meetings that Jerry presided over started promptly. The man was a maniac. Every other manager at the House and Garden Inspiration would rather be run over by a car than start a meeting on time, but her manager was Jerry.

"Hi, everyone, so sorry. Keep going, I'll get notes afterwards," she whispered and slunk into the closest available seat.

"I'm so glad you could join us this morning, Beth. Oh, and congratulations on the vacation prize. I saw that on Connections last night," Jerry said. "So, Mike, tell me more about the living room green-house idea you want to cover."

Beth opened her laptop and hit the power button. The battery was dead. This was embarrassing. Thinking she had a charger in her bag, she started to dig around in her case. Several coworkers were watching her instead of listening, and Susan, Jerry's wife, sighed in exasperation next to her.

A charger came sliding across the table. She looked up and noticed that Russell was sitting opposite her and had given her his power cord. She smiled. He frowned. Apparently, the fact that he was loaning her something did not mean he was going to be warm or friendly about it. Leaning over the table, she plugged the end into a socket in the middle of the table.

He raised his eyebrows at her pointedly and scratched the side of his mouth.

She touched her cheek; drying strawberry jelly from her toast was caked on it. Just when she thought her humiliation had reached rock bottom, it sank to new, previously unexplored depths. Of course, it would be Russell who noticed.

The man never said a word beyond stiff greetings and goodbyes if it was not work related; which was a crying shame because he had to be the hunkiest coworker ever. If there was an awards ceremony for sexy colleague, he would win hands-down every year. Not that he was some Adonis or George Clooney. He was simply rugged and rough around the edges where most men were either pudgy or trying too hard at the gym.

When he had first showed up two years ago, all the single (and several not-so-single) ladies in the building had been reduced to smoldering bachelorettes who alternately laced every sentence with innuendos or sat slumped over their desks, hoping desperately for an invitation into the office supplies closet with the bachelor of the year.

He never asked one of them out on a date. At some point, a couple of the other women reported that they had spotted him at this or that restaurant with a blonde or a red-head or a Latina woman. General consensus determined that if he didn't date anyone from the office, it was probably because he was into BDSM, or 'tie-me up kinkery' as Donna called it. This didn't make it easier to resist his charms.

Beth had sailed through this time on the sweet wings of her new marriage, but the landing in reality had been a killer. Now after six months of what-the-hell-just-happened-to-my-marriage loneliness, her hormones were beginning to rebel and her emotions did not know where to go.

Russell seemed blissfully unaware of the effect he had on the females in the office, and now that he had tipped Beth off to the jelly on her face, she might as well not exist any longer. His stony gaze moved from speaker to speaker during the meeting. Or just past each speaker, she realized. The walls were more interesting than their colleagues.

Concentrating on the flow of information, Beth took notes for the upcoming articles and projects, as she would be doing photographs for several of them. It was difficult, though. She imagined that sooner or later everyone felt what she was feeling; sitting in a meeting where everyone is talking or arguing about projects, wishing the whole time she could slide out of her chair to curl up in a ball on the floor and cry. Just cry until it blotted out all the other sounds and drove all other thoughts from her head. Cry because she wasn't smart enough, bold enough, career orientated enough, skinny enough or anything at all enough. And then cry some more.

She managed somehow to stay in her seat, consoling herself with the thought that her vacation prize coupon was still in her purse. She needed to get away—anywhere but here, stuck in pathetic unworthiness.

Susan was talking about the French Provincial Revival piece she wanted to do, so Beth made a show of checking her calendar and blocking some dates for the off-site shoots. This lasted a few minutes, and she was free to let her mind wander.

Russell was visible over the top of her screen. She couldn't help but notice him as the hour passed. Repeatedly. His shirt seemed a touch too tight across his wide shoulders, and it was very distracting.

Suddenly, guilt swept over her and she lowered her eyes. What kind of wife checks out the coworker on the other side of the table? Then she remembered. She no longer had to try to be the perfect wife, especially when it did not make any difference to her husband. Besides, she was in the mood to break some rules for a change.

So she would look at him if she wanted.

He was definitely too tight in that shirt. And the tie would have to go. He needed...pine trees. Yes, he needed pine trees, a dark grey wool sweater and an ax. That's it! He should be chopping fire-wood in front of a secluded log cabin in the mountains with pine trees all around, and maybe a crystal blue lake at the bottom of the hill. Could she work leather pants into this fantasy? Maybe. Maybe not. Jeans would do the trick. Faded blue jeans that fit nice and snug on the rear, and also—wait for it—cowboy boots. Cowboy boots and a sweater? No, that doesn't work. Keep the cowboy boots, lose the sweater for a flannel shirt. He finishes chopping and splashes water on his face and neck. Then I step out of the cabin, carrying a towel and steaming cups of fresh brewed coffee. Yeah. Then we sit on the porch together, drinking our coffee and gazing at the distant mountains tops, and telling each other little stories of how our love came to be. Remember that time, he whispers, when we were at the horrible office and Jerry said-

"Beth, you're drooling."

Several people around the table snickered.

"I'm sorry," she said, slurping. "I'm sorry. Please don't mind me, I-"

"Okay, people, let's break for coffee. Beth, my office," Jerry said. She followed him meekly down the hallway and into his glass wall office.

"Is there an explanation? Can you give you some reason for this weirdness?" he asked, taking a seat.

"Jerry," she sighed. "There's something I have to tell you." She paused, wishing the walls were not see-through. The tears were already stinging the backs of her eyes and she knew that as soon as she said the words, she would be crying and even though everyone else in the office was pretending not to watch, she knew perfectly well that they were.

"You're pregnant," he guessed.

"No, that's not it."

"You're moving to Rio to become a Samba dancer."

"No, that's not it, either."

"You were abducted by aliens conducting brain transplant experiments."

She laughed. "No, and we could play this game for a long time." She paused to swallow. "So, actually Brian just asked me for a divorce. I didn't say anything to anyone, but he left me about six months ago." A few tears were escaping down her cheeks and she pressed her lips together in an effort to control her face.

"Oh, Beth. Honey, why didn't you say something? You should have told me. I know you must feel awful, but if it's any consolation, the guy is a jerk."

"What?" she asked. This was not what she expected.

"It's not like a big secret that the guy is a jerk. Between you and me, this is the best thing that has happened to you since you got hired here."

"What do you mean he's a jerk? He was never a jerk to you guys during the Christmas parties or anything."

"No, he was fine the couple of times I saw him. But look what he did to you. As soon as you two got hitched, you lost your sense of humor, you started wearing too much heavy make-up, you hardly ever smile. Really. You lost all your personality. The more I think about it, the more I think 'jerk' is letting him off easy. The guy is an asshole, Beth. ASSHOLE; written all caps and put in italics. Did you look at yourself this morning?"

She didn't say anything, because in fact, the little she'd seen of her face was not a pretty sight.

"Hair in a tight bun, mascara all over the place, dark red lipstick, you've got something pink there on your cheek, yeah, that's it, and a suit that would look strict on a nun," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"He, uh, left me for a...an older woman. Don't misunderstand, she looks great for her age, but I think he just likes her because she has her own law firm and...last I heard she made him a partner." The ceiling became the most interesting object in the room and she studied it intently for a moment while Jerry stood and walked around the desk.

He gave her a friendly hug, and a strange barking sob broke free from her throat.

"I kept thinking things would work out, that he would realize how great I really am, and one evening he would be on the doorstep, a bouquet of roses in hand, begging me to take him back. Then I would be able to lay down some new rules, make him buy me some fancy jewelry, go to...go to some beautiful place like Hawaii. That this would make us stronger. That he would see how wonderful I am. But yesterday, I got the papers to fill out, the divorce petition delivered to me. He didn't even call. His new girlfriend's firm is handling it for him." She would have continued, but there was too much to unpack.

"Beth, oh, Beth. I know you are hurting, but believe me if he doesn't see what a great catch you are by now, he'll never know. This might sound trite, but you are too good for him," he said, patting her and motioning behind her back for everyone to stop staring through the glass. Beth's coworkers, holding napkins and coffee cups up to their faces, turned sideways so they could keep watching.

"Okay, kido, are you all right? Because I have some news that isn't going to sound too hot, and I hate to have to do this to you in the middle of a personal crisis," Jerry said.

"You're firing me."

"Not yet. But word has come down from the powers that be," he pointed to the ceiling where the directors had their offices on the top floor, "that several people need to be let go in an effort to cut back expenses. Your name has been mentioned."

"Jerry, that's BS, I've given heart and soul to this company for four years. I am not an expense to be cut! I probably earn less than three-quarters of the rest of the staff, and you know my photos rock. I've got the awards to prove it!"

"Calm down, Beth, and think for a moment. Your photos do rock, when you put your heart and soul into them, which you haven't been doing for nearly a year. Now that I know about Brian, I imagine he was a big part of the problem, am I right, or am I right? Other people from higher up have noticed. You take very nice pictures in the middle of a divorce, but not fabulous ones. If they push me, I'll go out both guns blazing for you, but Beth, that doesn't mean I'll win. It would be better for both of us if you could get your life back together. Stop showing up late, stop drooling during the staff meetings, and start giving me the gorgeous flower and garden pictures I know you are capable of. Can we call it a deal?"

"Jerry, I can't lose this job."

"Then don't. It's up to you at this point," Jerry said. "I love you like one of my daughters, and when they start slacking, I give them a kick in the rear, too. I need you here today to choose prints and hammer out some layouts, are you in?"

When Beth hiccupped, he took it for a yes.

"Good. Then let's get you a donut and some coffee. Oh, and Beth, I expect you at the party tonight," he said, leading her to the door.

"Party?"

"You did not forget. The Porch Decorating Division three-year anniversary party. You are coming and that's an order."

"Oh, Jerry, I can't go to a party, I'm a mess and I don't-"

"You can and you will," he said firmly. "Beth, start having some fun or I will definitely have to fire you. Fun. Party. You. Got it?"

She sighed with defeat. "I got it."

*** So Beth has to have fun and start taking better pictures or lose her job! Under normal circumstances this wouldn't be so hard for her... Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. <3 ***