The Pool and the Package

Mara stood at the edge of the hotel pool, clutching her cover-up. At forty-five, she'd stopped swimming at company events years ago. The gray hair she'd missed while dyeing it that morning was reason enough to stay dry.

"Having second thoughts?"

David, the senior VP, stood behind her with two drinks. His silver hair was thick — men could age naturally. Women fought every strand.

"Just cooling off," she said, accepting the gin and tonic. The company's annual retreat was mandatory theater after three rounds of layoffs. The "bull" himself — Richard, the CEO — had already disappeared to his suite with the marketing director. Everyone had noticed.

"Don't think about it," David said, following her gaze. "What happens at the retreat stays at the retreat."

"He's selling, isn't he?"

David's expression shifted. "How did you know?"

"The layoffs were too precise." She'd seen it before. "You're dressing up the company for a buyer."

"Papers are already signed." His voice was low. "We'll know by Monday."

Her stomach dropped. Fifteen years at this company. "I can't afford to lose this job. Not with Emma's tuition."

"I'm taking the package." David finished his drink. "Finally opening that bar I've been talking about since before you were hired."

She looked at him — really looked. For the first time, she noticed the dye stain behind his ear. He was hiding something too.

"What would you do?" he asked. "If you could afford to?"

"I don't know." The truth surprised her. "I haven't let myself ask that question in a decade."

"The water's heated," he said. "Sometimes you have to dive in to remember how to swim."

He walked toward the hotel, leaving her with her melted drink.

Mara looked at the pool. Then at her reflection in the glass door — the gray hair, the careful mask she'd worn for years.

She dropped the cover-up.

The water was cold at first, then warmer than she expected. She swam to the other side, surfacing alone. The pool lights flickered overhead.

On Monday, she'd call her sister about that restaurant idea they'd sketched out on napkins years ago.

Tonight, she'd swim until her muscles burned. Until she remembered what it felt like to move freely through water, without waiting for permission to dive in.