The Music of Bees Eileen Garvin (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

of his office and smiled at her, his yellow tooth poking out from under his thin upper lip.

“Just the person I was looking for! Please come in.”

Alice sighed, walked into his office, and shuddered as he closed the door behind her.

“Sit! Please!” he said.

He tugged at his suit jacket and pulled his chair forward, leaning his elbows on the desk.

“Now, Alice. I’m sure you were somewhat surprised by Bill’s announcement today. Perhaps a little disappointed, hmmm?” He made a frowny face, like Alice was a kid who’d just dropped her ice cream.

“Well, no sense in dwelling on it. Your turn will come when the time is right. Bill made his choice, and I’m sure Nancy will do an excellent job, especially with you on board to support her like you’ve supported Bill so well.”

Alice said nothing. She just watched Rich as if from far away.

Rich flipped open a file folder on his desk. “Now, it’s no secret that Bill talked about your own candidacy at one time.”

Alice was silent.

“And we do appreciate your work. So we’d like to give you a promotion! I’ve got a new contract here that will go into effect at the start of next month. You will be the planning department senior staff manager, and that gives you a fifteen percent raise! Nothing to sneeze at, is it?”

He pushed the paper across the desk at her, but Alice didn’t look at it.

“Senior staff manager?” she said. “Who would I be managing? Who’s replacing Nancy?”

Rich grimaced in an attempt to smile. He rubbed his skinny hands together. The sound of his dry skin made Alice flinch.

“Well, we won’t be filling the position right away. As part of the reorganization, that gives us the extra money for your raise.”

“I see. So you want me to do my job and Nancy’s job for fifteen percent more? Is that right?”

Rich looked annoyed and sat back. “That’s sort of a glass-half-empty way of looking at it, Alice. Think about the leadership opportunity you’re gaining here.”

Alice laughed. “What, to lead myself? I’m already doing that, Richard.”

Rich didn’t like being laughed at. He also didn’t like being called Richard, and Alice knew it. He once told her that only his mother called him Richard. He leaned forward again and trained his beady eyes on hers.

“Look, Alice. Quite frankly, you haven’t exactly been a team player lately,” he said.

He flipped open another file and fanned its contents across the desk. Alice saw the newspaper article and the photo with Stan. She saw emails from Nancy. A cursory glance showed she’d been documenting Alice’s remarks and jokes about their director and the other administration members.

Rich sat back in his chair, smiling smugly and tenting his fingers.

“I’m sure you can see how it looks from our point of view,” he murmured. “It’s really in your best interest to play nice, Alice. You’re going to have to work with Nancy, like it or not, and Bill too.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Bill is retiring.”

Rich shook his head, pressing his lips together. “Bill is retiring from the county,” he said. “He’ll be working with us as an outside consultant. For SupraGro.”

Alice looked at Rich’s receding hairline and the naked edges of his scalp. Bits of dandruff dusted the dark polyester of his shoulders. She looked past him and out the window toward the water. She recalled that day in fourth grade, when she’d said she wanted to be a farmer and the class had laughed. Miss Tooksbury had gotten married and moved to Portland when Alice was in the sixth grade. She’d like to tell her teacher that it wasn’t true—you couldn’t be whatever you wanted. Life was a whole lot more complicated than that. But she also knew now, with just as much certainty, that you couldn’t be whatever other people wanted you to be either.

She pushed the contract back at Rich.

“No thanks,” she said, and stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

He looked annoyed. “Come on, Alice. This is a great offer. We both know you aren’t going to get more than this.”

“No, I won’t,” Alice said. “You’re right.”

“Well, shall we get this over with, then?” He held out a pen.

“Yes, let’s,” she said. “I quit.”

For once Rich Carlson was speechless. Alice left his door open and walked out of the Hood River County building into the May sunshine.

Alice Holtzman had never quit anything in her life. She was reliable, steady, and loyal. Capable Alice. But now she was walking out, just like that. She felt a stab of joy as she headed down Oak Street. She passed the John Deere shop where she had first met Buddy. She passed the bank, where her father had taken her to open a checking account when she got her first job. There was the library and across the street, Waucoma Bookstore. Hood River had been her home for forty-four years. She owed something to this place.

She must have looked so expectant when she walked into the Watershed Alliance offices that the receptionist assumed she was there for the meeting and ushered her into the conference room.

Stan was standing in front of a whiteboard, gesturing with a dry-erase marker.

“. . . File a motion to cease and desist later this afternoon,” he was saying to a group of about ten people. He stopped when he saw Alice, and smiled.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said to the group, and crossed the room to her.

“Hi!” His smile dimmed when he reached her, and his brow furrowed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to come by and see if there was anything I could do to help.”

Stan’s face relaxed. “That last bit was really key. We’ve got Portland Riverkeeper here, the organic growers association, and the outdoor school people.”

He turned to the group. “Everyone, this is Alice Holtzman, from the county planning department. I think most of you know her?” Stan said.

Alice nodded at the men and women clustered around the table.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” she said. “But let me know if