Author: Patrick
Title: Westerly Winds
AN: Another year and a half since my last update. Sorry this is taking so long and that this is a shorter update than you deserve.
Chapter Seven
Rachel awoke with a start. It was dark and, for a moment, she had no idea where she was. Then she remembered, and her heart rate slowed as she eased back down onto her pillow. She cast a glance at the clock radio on the nearby nightstand. 3:30am. Ugh.
It was 9:30am in Paris. Were she there now, Rachel would have been in her office, drinking a cup of coffee and getting her agenda in order for the day ahead. Or at least that's how it would've been, had she not been fired three weeks ago.
One of Rachel's duties at Louis Vuitton was managing retail distribution. Her department worked closely with a lawyer named Antoine who had signed off on a lengthy retailer agreement. Rachel reviewed the contract before giving final approval, but overlooked a paragraph in the agreement that gave the retailer exclusive rights over a 30 mile radius that just so happened to include a high-end shopping district. In the ensuing shitstorm, the bean counters at Louis Vuitton had to adjust the company's sales projections by nearly a six-figure amount. The powers that be decided that her salary and benefits were a good starting point for remuneration and so her fate was sealed.
Rachel had not yet told anyone of her dismissal. For the first two days afterwards, she dropped Emma off at daycare as if nothing had happened, kissing her on the forehead and bidding her farewell for the day with as big and enthusiastic a smile as she could muster. Then she'd come home, crawl into bed and cry herself to sleep. She started to look around for another job, but was having difficulty summoning any lasting determination and had so far been unsuccessful in the attempt. She secured an interview with a private firm in Paris, but nearly burst into tears when, while talking to the hiring manager, the realization hit that the job was a step down from Bloomingdale's.
Worse was that Rachel's cash reserves were depleting quickly. She'd been keeping Emma in daycare to maintain the façade of normalcy, but couldn't afford to do so for much longer. Louis Vuitton had paid well, but she was never an accomplished saver. She'd explored the idea of downsizing to a smaller apartment in a cheaper part of town, but the cost of hiring movers would negate the much of what she'd save in rent.
She'd been tempted call her father. He'd know what to do. At the very least he could float her some money. Ultimately, she rejected the idea. Her father's heart attack, nearly two years ago now, had taken a considerable toll on the man. If she told him what had happened, he would get worked up and upset. And if that happened…well, it just wasn't worth it. Besides, he was probably still bankrolling Amy and Jill, anyway, and Rachel was proud to have set herself apart in that way.
The most crushing blow, perhaps, came with the stark awareness that the dream she was living for the last year was suddenly and irrevocably over. It was unlikely, Rachel surmised, that she'd ever find another job with the compensation and prestige offered by Louis Vuitton. She was equally pessimistic about finding work in the fashion industry at all; no one at Louis Vuitton would give her a good recommendation after what she'd done.
Even so, it wasn't shame for which she kept quiet on the matter; it was utter bewilderment that held her tongue. For the first time in about a decade, Rachel Green felt completely adrift.
Back then, however, it had been different. She had long been all too content to hitch her wagon to someone else's dream. It wasn't until she was getting ready to exchange vows with Barry that she realized she wanted something more. While the circumstances were substantially different, Rachel felt heartened knowing that the end of a dream, perceived or otherwise, could be the beginning of something truly amazing. Could lightning strike twice?
Would she be ready if it did?
After another few minutes of tossing and turning, Rachel resigned herself to consciousness, slipped out of bed and shuffled out of the bedroom. Maybe some television or, if she was lucky, a cup of coffee would help refocus her mind. As she entered the living room, she was surprised to see that the TV alight and Ross reclining on the nearby couch. He looked tired, but awake and content. Getting out of bed and seeing Ross there reminded her of when they'd lived together in his old apartment, and she felt happy and wistful in equal measure.
As she drew near, he smiled at her and said, "Hi."
