Mona audibly gasped, her eyes becoming saucers. “It’s awe-inspirin’, isn’t it?”
I turned to urge her onward, but then promptly froze as a great sense of déjà vu swept over me. I’d had that very same thought the first time I entered this building. I remember feeling as if heaven’s pearly gates had cracked opened just wide enough to let my tiny self through. It had been thrilling, and yes, awe-inspiring.
We flashed our badges to security and crossed the marble floor to the bank of elevators. I stabbed the sixth-floor button once inside, and the steel jaws snapped shut. Five other passengers shared the space with us, and no lie, Mona made eye contact with every single one of them. Then, sin of all sins, she introduced herself.
“Hey, I’m Ramona Skarren from the North Carolina district office,” she said formally. How’re y’all this mornin’?” In return, she received tight smiles and a few cordial grunts. I loved Mona like the moon and stars, but I swear, she was absolutely channeling my mother.
As with every other, my old floor buzzed with palpable energy. I savored the rush as we passed by multitudes of busy employees, smiling as if I, once again, belonged here. She obediently followed me to Bob’s office.
“Enter,” he growled.
Mona’s face was painted with the kind of fear reserved for the Grim Reaper. Remembering the days when I’d felt similarly, I reached out and squeezed her quivering, ice-cold hand. “His bark’s way worse than his bite—well, most of the time,” I whispered.
She said absolutely nothing during our brief meeting, and honestly, when he spat out his first expletive, I was rather afraid she might faint.
“That was the scariest meeting I’ve ever been to,” she exclaimed as we wandered back down the hall.
I snorted. “Actually, I thought he was in a rather good mood this morning.”
Habitually, I visited my old veal stall. “This was my corporate office,” I said mock-proudly. Not only had the cat lady not been fired, but it appeared each of her pictures had given birth to a new litter of kittens, and these were now pinned to every remaining square inch of her partition.
“This?” Mona exclaimed.
“Yep.” I chuckled, remembering how concerned Mona had been that I wouldn’t like my giant North Carolina space. Far too absorbed in my personal misery at the time, I’d done little to dispel her fears. I plopped in my old chair. It squeaked out a pitiful I’ve missed you.
“It’s a lot smaller than I imagined,” she murmured.
It appeared this was Alice in Wonderland day for Mona, and I couldn’t help wondering which potion she would drink next.
Spreading my arms widely, I said, “Location, location, location.” After my sense of nostalgia waned, I glanced at my phone. “My next meeting starts in ten minutes. You know where you’re going, right?”
“Um…”
“You should have received an email from Bob’s secretary, detailing your itinerary.”
“Oh, that.” She pulled out her phone and read it aloud like scripture.
“Sounds like you’ll be starting your day on the tenth floor. I’ll walk you there.” Her look of gratitude was beyond hilarious, and I realized that out of her element, she was fairly lost. I offered what I hoped was a reassuring look. Suddenly, all her comments coalesced. “Mona, how many times have you been to corporate?”
“Well, there was that one Quarterlies…”
I waited for the list to continue, but that fragment simply hung above her like a partially inflated balloon. “Didn’t you interview here?”
“No, I did that in Atlanta.”
“So, you’ve only ever been to Philadelphia once?”
“Well, yeah. I thought you knew that.”
I shook my head no. With a clearer understanding of her deer-in-headlights demeanor, I smiled with sympathy. “It sounds like I need to give you ‘the tour’, bathrooms and all.” As we approached the elevator, I said, “I’ll meet you back here at noon, and we’ll have lunch. Right here.” I pointed to the floor.
Nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her fiery pink ear, she smiled warily. “Okay.”
I spent the next three hours—days, really—fearing for Mona’s life. She was a tasty morsel dropped in a tank of starved piranha. At noon on the dot, I found her standing by the elevator, chewing on her lip. I towed my bewildered friend to one of the various lunch buffet lines, piled her plate full of richly caloric food, and sat her down at a table. “Eat.”
The good news? Mona’s talk had been scheduled early in the week, and once we put that little nightmare behind us, we could get on to the most pertinent part of the trip: wedding dress shopping. The bad news? For some ungodly reason, our Tuesday presentations had been scheduled concurrently. Oh, the humanity!
That night we ordered room service and went over her talk four more times. Once asleep, I ravaged the minifridge, devouring anything the Mars Candy Company had seen fit to leave there.
Scalding my tongue on a truly magnificent latte the next morning, I briskly ushered her towards the large conference room that she viewed as her personal gallows. Before bolting for my own meeting, I pulled her aside and gripped her shoulders. “Your talk’s going to be great. You’re a fabulous and amazing woman, who knows her job like the back of her hand. Find me in the middle of the audience once you’re on stage. Look at me the whole time as if no one else is in the room and speak directly into the microphone just like we practiced. Your slides are perfect, and I doubt anyone will ask you any questions.”
“Questions!” she gasped. “You never said anything about that!”
“Breathe in and out slowly and listen to me. Most people will be so bored by the time you speak, they won’t even bother paying attention. I promise it’ll be fine.”
“You promise you’ll be there?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I will.”
♥
“Trade slots with me,” I hissed at Bert Knellinger, whose seat I slid in beside just as opening remarks concluded. Bob raised an eyebrow as he passed by, and I smiled brightly in return. A stroke of luck, Bert was slated to speak third. All I had to do was switch places with him, then, once finished, launch into an epic coughing fit and excuse myself, leaving me plenty of time to reach Mona. The plan was flipping brilliant.
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
“When do you speak?” he asked, glancing down at the list. “Twentieth? No way.”
“Yes way. Trade with me, dammit.”
His lips turned up. “What’ll you give me?”
Just then I got a panicky text from Mona. They’re starting. I’m about to be sick.
“What do you want?”
“Your firstborn.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, one of your service reps.”
“What?! No. That’s outrageous.”
“Then I guess you’ll be sitting here for a very long time.”
I’d forgotten how wicked he was. I crossed my legs, uncrossed them, fidgeted, and tapped my foot impatiently as the first speaker delivered a relatively decent talk. Except that I didn’t care because Bert wasn’t budging.
“Only one, Susan,” he whispered.
“Reeves is painfully green. Why do you want him?”
“I don’t. I want Perry. He’s got the years of experience my people don’t. Give him to me, and the slot is yours.”
As I seriously debated the offer, my phone vibrated again. Now there are only nine people in front of me!
I looked frantically around the room. Jeremy, who was eighth, was on the same row as me; only twelve district managers and the wide center aisle lay between us. Leaning forward to catch his eye, I discreetly waved. Nothing. “Jeremy!” I coughed out. He inclined his head in the opposite direction and said something to Beth Stamler. She was after me, and therefore of no use.
Bert whispered, “I never thought I’d find you in my lap. Maybe I should have asked for something else.” I flipped him off and continued sending psychic messages to a clearly ps
ychically-challenged Jeremy. Bert chuckled again. “I think I’m in love.”
Another text from Mona: The next speaker is going up.
I scrolled through my contacts and texted Jeremy’s ass. He didn’t even move to retrieve his phone. Grr. As another round of polite applause dimmed, Bert stood. “See ya, babe.”
“I hate you,” I muttered.
He chuckled evilly and strode to the podium.
I texted Beth as Bert began speaking. No movement from her either. Did everyone have their flippin’ phones on silent? Cursing under my breath, I scanned my sheet, a smile spreading across my face. Sitting beside Bert’s unoccupied chair was Alex Ramirez, the DM for Arizona. He was slated sixth. I scooted next to him. Though Alex and I had attended a number of meetings together, I’m pretty sure we’d never had an actual conversation. “Hi,” I whispered.
He nodded.
“Listen, would you mind terribly if we exchanged speaking slots? I’m in a bit a situation, and if you’d trade with me, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Remind me of your name again,” he replied. Seriously?
“Susan Wade.” I reached out and quickly shook his hand.
He scanned the list. “Ooh…sorry, no good.”
“Oh, come on. It can’t be that big a deal to you.” I was fairly certain I couldn’t sneak out, help Mona, and return in time for my own talk. Plus, I’d probably be sent to the corner for misbehavior.
He glanced at his phone. “My daughter’s school play begins in thirty minutes. My wife’s streaming it for me.” He returned his attention to Bert.
“Can’t you just record it and watch it later?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I think not.”
Smiling smugly, Bert returned to his—now, my seat. “You want me.”
“Slaughtered, yes.”
My phone buzzed again. Where are you?
One way or another, I was getting to Mona’s talk. I made an executive decision. The applause faded for Matt Kemper, speaker four. As he stepped off the stage, I snatched up my laptop, brushed past Bert, and raced to the podium. Gregory Foster of Massachusetts stood as well and began moving up the aisle. I grabbed the mic. “Due to a personal conflict, Greg Foster has asked me to trade slots.” He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and I smiled apologetically. A look of pure malice spread across his face after he returned to his seat.
My first slide popped up on the large screen, and I ran through my talk as quickly and professionally as humanly possible, refusing to make further eye contact with Greg. To the sound of pale applause, I took my seat and texted Mona. Coming!
Jostled by Alex on his way to the front, Bert and I settled into our seats again. As Alex began speaking, I commenced my coughing fit, elbowing Bert in the ribs several times with calculated precision for good measure. I coughed even louder. Alex, who was now on slide two, shot me an annoyed look. I yanked up my briefcase and slipped out.
“Stop!” I yelled as I lunged for the elevator. The last thing I saw before it closed in my face was the smug smirk of a vindictive secretary. I made a mental note to cause her professional harm. I jabbed the button over and over, watching the floor numbers descend. Then I spied the exit sign. I raced through the door and flew up the almost never used stairs, my spiked heels echoing off the bare cement. Mona was speaking on the fourteenth floor. My thighs were on fire by twelve, and my feet were nearly numb with pain. Gasping for air, I threw open the door and staggered towards the large conference room. Applause was spilling from the entrance.
I started up the aisle just as Mona nodded nervously to the large crowd. She searched the room for a moment. I stepped forward until I was literally in the center of the room. With nowhere to sit, I simply stood, blocking numerous views. I heard hisses behind me, but I ignored them. Mona’s eyes met mine, and she visibly sagged in relief. Then she squared her shoulders, stared right at me, and began speaking.
At her concluding “thank you”, I limped to the back of the room and leaned against the wall for the duration of the session.
“You did great!” I said, hugging her proudly during the break. “You sounded like a real pro up there. The real pro you are.”
“Ya really think so?”
“I absolutely do.” And I was not even lying. It was as if her presence had magnified ten-fold on that stage. In her own way, she’d commanded the room. I wanted her to succeed, to shine, to demonstrate the kind of confidence that had bloomed since she’d become Mrs. Jimbo Skarren, and she had stepped up to the challenge. “I’ve got to return to my meeting before I’m lynched. Meet me on six when you’re finished.” Glancing at my phone, I squealed, “Gotta go!” I bolted for the elevator, the blisters from my wickedly pointed shoes threatening to erupt.
“What the hell?” Greg growled.
“Couldn’t be helped. I had an emergency.”
“You made me look like a fool. You owe me big time. You understand that, right?”
I calmly took another sip of lukewarm coffee as our own break concluded. “Whatever you need.”
He broke out into an almost cruel smile. “I’ll be in touch.”
I realized I’d just made a giant mistake. I didn’t know the man well, and in retrospect, I had probably made him look somewhat weak in front of our drooling wolf pack. I snagged a heavily iced-Danish and coated my poor judgment with a thick layer of sugar.
“That was an interesting speech,” Jeremy said as I seated myself beside him, prepared to listen to my service reps speak.
“My district acquisitions supervisor was presenting for the first time in her life, and I had to get there.”
“I think you made an enemy in the process,” Jeremy said, glancing back at a still fuming Gregory.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
When my meeting finally broke, I found Mona waiting outside the door. I grabbed her schedule and scanned it. Then I took out a pen and drew a giant X across the lower half. “Oops. Looks like you’ve just been called into an all-afternoon meeting with your boss.”
She smiled hugely.
♥
“Gosh! How many stores are there up here?” she exclaimed as I dragged her out of Nordstrom’s. I’d compiled a fairly extensive list of department stores and boutiques I wanted to visit. In catalogs, I’d seen a number of dresses that interested me; none of which, of course, were available in Eastern North Carolina. We’d blown through Niemen Marcus with little luck, and after a late afternoon snack and a much-needed pedicure were now on our way to Bloomingdale’s. Tomorrow, our afternoon would be consumed by visits to two bridal boutiques and finally, Saks.
“Susan Wade,” I said to the Saks bridal consultant. “I have an appointment.”
“Excellent. I’m Marion Coleman. A pleasure meeting you.”
“This is Mona Skarren, my matron of honor.”
“Delighted. We have the dresses you requested, and I’ve taken the liberty of adding a few more options to the collection. Would you both like wine while I get the models ready?”
“Bring the whole bottle. It’s been a very long day,” I said, wilting into a chair.
“They do that?” Mona whispered after Marion disappeared.
“For the prices they charge? Hell, yes.”
As we munched on cheese and crackers and sipped fairly decent wine, the first model waltzed into our private viewing room, wearing an absolutely not-for-me dress. I shook my head, and she trounced back behind the doors. A few moments later, a brunette with a figure similar to mine, except for her seven foot long legs, strode out.
“That one looks like it’s growin’ out of a big ol’ flower,” Mona remarked. She was spot on, too. Layers upon layers of stiff taffeta encircled the last two feet of the otherwise plain satin skirt like too many petals at the end of a stalk. I shook my head vigorously.
The Vera Wang dress I was most interested in floated into view. Over our two-day shop-a-thon, I’d identified several dresses that were more than adequate, but none that I’d fallen madl
y in love with. This dress honestly looked better than in the photo, and my heart skipped a beat. “Gorgeous,” I said. “What do you think?”
“It’s real nice. I love the lace and all the buttons,” Mona added with a giggle.
The model turned around several times, and I sank into a state of genuine bliss, imagining myself floating down the aisle in this masterpiece. We were shown two more after it, but I’d already made my decision.
“I’ll try on the Wang,” I said when Marion entered the room, all smiles.
That dress has been wildly popular this season. While we get it ready, there is one more I’d like to show you. It’s an Amelia Sposa,” she said reverently. She clapped her hands, and the brunette emerged in the most frigginly gorgeous dress I’d ever seen is my whole frigginly miserable life! Mona and I gasped and grabbed one another’s arms simultaneously.
The dress hugged the model’s body as if the two were making love. The open back plunged elegantly, and the skirt not so much flared as cascaded to earth in a shimmering waterfall of pale silk and intricate lace. The golden threads weaving through the material and beading glinted in the light, and the train fanned out across the floor like the most delicate of waves. It was beyond breathtaking, and my covetous heart commanded I rip it off that leggy model and spirit it away, cradled to my bosom.
“I believe I’ll try that one on,” I said calmly.
“I was certain you’d like it. The Wang as well?”
“No. Just that one.”
We were swept into the dressing room, and she and Mona fitted me in a corset. Still sore from yesterday’s fire-escape escapade, my feet, having been shoeless for the last hour, nearly cried when I crammed them into stilt-high strappy heels. The dress was then brought in by assistants. My hand reached out of its own volition; the fabric pulsed electric as it made contact. I knew then that no greater love had ever existed.
The bodice did not cling to my body as it had the model’s, and a whimper escaped my lips. Marion pinched the material from behind, and suddenly I was in the throes of an impassioned embrace.
Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3) Page 7
