Slipperless Series (Book #2)(15)

“Is that it?” she asked at last.

“What do you mean? That’s a huge thing! I’m petrified. You of all people should know that.”

She nodded. “I do. But, that’s no excuse, Fiona.”

I groaned and shoved myself up from her mattress. Soon after, I began to pace back and forth while my grandmother continued to speak.

“Your grandfather was a wonderful salesman, Fiona. Over the years he sold a lot of things. He sold vacuums door-to-door, used cars, farm equipment, industrial printing supplies and a million other things. And do you know why he was so successful at it?”

I shrugged, as I continued to shuffle back and forth across the small confines of her bedroom. I really had no idea where she was going with any of this, so I ignored her. But she didn’t allow my lack of a reply to go on and it was only a matter of a few seconds before she snapped me out of my trance.

“Fiona. I asked you a question. Now, stop pacing and look at me.”

I spun in place and did as she asked. “About what?”

“About your grandfather. And about why he was such a successful salesman. Do you know the reason?”

“No,” I said, as I shook my head. “Why?”

By now, she’d begun to lower her hands. After folding them in her lap, she continued. “It’s because people related to him. They liked him. Trusted him. He believed in himself and what he sold.”

Somehow the popularity slash likeability gene must have skipped over me. Judging by my recent track record, not to mention the last fifteen years of my life, literally zero people felt that way about me. I shook my head in complete frustration. Spreading my arms wide, I dropped them until the palms of my hands slapped against the outside of my thighs.

“So,” I began, as I pursed my lips at her. “Exactly how does this information help me make a presentation in front of a roomful of billionaires?”

“They’re just people, Fiona. People are all the same.”

I didn’t bother responding. Frankly, I was about one second away from walking out of the room altogether. But before I did, she continued to try and make her point.

“You aren’t comfortable doing this because you don’t know how to do it. Are you worried in the lab? Uneasy?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Well because I know what I’m doing. That’s why.”

“Exactly.”

I shook my head at her sorry attempt to manipulate me. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.”

“What am I trying to do?”

“You’re trying to trick me.”

“Fiona, why would I do that? I’m only trying to make a point.”

“Which is?”

“Which is all you have to do is put the same kind of focus you use in the lab on learning how to speak. Just find someone to teach you or try something like Toastmasters. I know you can do it.”

“This is a ridiculous conversation. I’m not doing it. I can’t.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

I slumped my shoulders at her statement, and as I did, the reality of the situation struck me. Because whether I liked it or not, she had a point. I had to find a way to deal with this or I absolutely would fail. There was no question about it. And if I did, well, I had no idea what would become of us. So, whether it was a coach or something like Toastmasters, I would get it handled. She was right. I had no choice.

Just then, my grandmother spoke once more, bringing me back to the conversation and out of my contemplative state.

“You can do this, Fiona. I believe in you and…”

All of sudden, literally in mid-sentence, she winced and folded over at the waist. As she did, she let loose with a violent series of coughs and gags. I felt heat flush through my body as I rushed towards her side.

“Grandmother? What is it? What’s wrong?”

But, no words passed from her lips. Instead, she continued to writhe in pain, hacking and coughing as the seconds ticked by in slow agony.

“Grandmother! Grandmother!”

Frantic, I glanced around her nightstand for something I could give her to try and ease the coughing fit. Not seeing anything, I raced out of the room and returned thirty seconds later with an ice cold glass of water. My hand trembled as I offered it to her.

“Here…” I gasped through a parched, dry mouth. “Try and drink this.”

The episode sapped so much strength from her that I had to keep my hands on the glass as she tried to sip from it. Though difficult at first, with time she managed to get down a few gulps, until at last the fit subsided. With a shallow exhale, she collapsed into her pillows, exhausted.