***
Tess breezed into the office. “Hey, Al, how’s it going?”
Alice answered tentatively, taken aback by Tess’s quick turnaround. She looked healthier than when Alice had last seen her, fuller in the face, the drawn, gaunt look she’d held was gone. “Fine.”
“I can’t wait to get back to work,” Tess said. She flung herself into her chair and thanked Alice for the cappuccino. She moved the cup to the side of the desk and picked up the coaster, turning the warmed ceramic in her hands, running her fingers over the taupe, green, and peach flowers.
“This is gorgeous! Where did you find it?” she gushed.
“You know that little women’s market, on Wisconsin Avenue?”
Tess nodded. “By that handmade rug store.”
“Yup. I found it last week and knew you’d love it.” Alice smiled. She was relieved to hear the happiness in Tess’s voice.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Tess put the coaster in her top right desk drawer and sipped her drink.
Alice watched with disbelief. “Aren’t you going to use it?” she asked.
Tess scrunched her face and shrugged her left shoulder, “Nah, but I do love it.”
Alice was uncertain if she should be concerned about Tess’s newfound freedom from coasters or if she should be happy about it.
“What’s happening around here?” Tess skimmed through the stack of messages on her desk.
“Beau’s parents called.” Alice watched Tess’s face tense and knew it was not the time to bring that up. “They, uh, were just making sure we didn’t need anything here in the office.”
Tess’s shoulders relaxed, “What else?”
“I hadn’t wanted to worry you, but we’re getting close to having issues with payroll. Everyone understands, but payroll is payroll.”
Tess’s face grew serious again. “Right. Payroll.” She dropped her gaze, thinking, then popped up from her chair. “Well, we’ll have to push some new clients through. What’s happening with Mr. Mason?”
“He’s ready. He was waiting for you to come back.” She sifted through the folders until she found the one marked Mason Press. “Mid-level manager, fifty-five, maybe sixty-K.”
“Did he agree to the twenty percent?” Tess asked.
“Yup. He’s all set. Just needs you to go down and finalize.”
“Great, set it up. How about that Tole guy? The one that was referred but didn’t return my calls? Any word from him?” Tess asked.
Alice shook her head.
The corner of Tess’s lips turned up, and in a conniving voice, she said, “Oh, he’s ours. Don’t you worry.”
Alice laughed. “Oh, I’m not. I figured you’d pull him in.” She left Tess’s office and came back with a stack of five blue folders. “I’ve been going through our mid-level management résumés. I think these are good matches.” She handed them to Tess.
“I’ll look through them now. Can you get me Tole’s number? And set up a meeting with Mason for Wednesday, three o’clock.”
Alice felt a surge of adrenaline. Tess was back!
***
On her way back from sealing the deal with Mr. Mason, Tess was on fire, enthused to be accomplishing her goals instead of pining away at her computer. She could do this—the pregnancy, waiting for Beau to return. Yes, she thought, I can do this. No longer would she try to convince Alice and Kevin of Beau’s being alive. It was a futile effort. She’d noticed how Alice had watched her every move the last few days, and how she’d scoffed when Tess had made reference to Beau’s return. They were too closed-minded to understand that had Beau been dead, Tess would have known—and the one thing she knew for certain was that he was not dead. He couldn’t be. He was just…detained, and that thought gave her the strength to get up each day and reclaim her life.
Tess turned onto Wisconsin Avenue and headed toward Bethesda. She was on top of her game, and if Mr. Tole wouldn’t return her calls, she’d knock on his door.
***
The fine leather furnishings and expensive hardwood that adorned the accounting office of Tole and Whitcomb would be intimidating to most, but to Tess, a woman who had built a company from the ground up with nothing more than sheer will and an idea, the pricey façade was merely an ego boost for the people within. Tess didn’t care much for over-inflated egos, but her business needed the income. The six weeks she’d taken off had stretched their bank account about as far as it could go. Sure, the insurance companies were sending her letters and calling her, trying to get her to file the necessary paperwork in order for her to claim the life insurance that Beau had so thoughtfully left behind, but Tess would not take a penny of it. Doing so would validate Beau’s death.
Tess held her head high and approached the middle-aged secretary who glanced up from behind rectangular red glasses.
“Tess Johnson for Mr. Tole, please,” she said.
The secretary scanned her day planner and then looked at Tess disapprovingly. “What time is your appointment, Ms. Johnson?”
“I don’t have one,” Tess said. The attitude and smug sneer of the secretary did not dissuade Tess. She handed the woman a business card, Top Staffing Consultants, Tess Johnson, President. Instantly, the woman’s sneer morphed into something vaguely reminiscent of a pleasant smile.
“Just a moment.” She stood, settling an efficient telephone headset upon her perfectly cropped, coiffed, and recently-dyed honey-blonde hair. She towered above Tess’s five-foot-seven-inch frame and sauntered as if she were on a runway, straight backed and smooth gaited, into the next room.
Tess peeked over the top of the reception desk and quickly eyed the calendar. Mr. Tole had no appointments until 3:30 P.M. She glanced at the clock behind the desk, 1:42. Tess smirked.
A moment later the receptionist returned, sat her capable self down behind the desk, removed the headset, and donned a fake smile. “Mr. Tole will be right with you. You can wait on the sofa, if you’d like.”
Tess thanked her and remained standing. She’d learned early on that sitting gave the client an advantage, and she’d wanted the upper hand in this initial meeting. She’d arrived on his turf. She’d have to establish her ground quickly. She took a deep, empowering breath, the scent of leather reminding her of her deceased father. She bristled. Not now.
A man about Tess’s age neared the doorway. He stopped to speak to a younger man, who, unlike him, was dressed in a suit. Tess assumed he was a client. It wasn’t uncommon for clients to show up for appointments in any office in jeans and a t-shirt. She turned away and glanced at the paintings on the wall.
“Ms. Johnson?”
Tess turned around and was met with the jean-clad man. “Yes?”
He reached his right hand out to her and smiled, “Louie Tole. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Tess shook his hand and couldn’t help but look over his clothing.
“I know,” he laughed. “My mother tells me to dress like a grownup all the time.”
Tess blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” His smile was warm and welcoming, his disheveled brown curls brought a softness to his rugged face. “C’mon back to my office. Let’s chat.”
Tess hurried next to him. Chat? What man used the word chat?
The large, mahogany desk was in complete disarray, cluttered with files and loose papers. Tess eyed the empty Styrofoam cups piled on the Indian print chair in front of the desk.
“Let me get those,” he swept the mess off the chair and into a small metal trash can.
“Thank you for seeing me without notice, Mr. Tole.” Tess settled into the surprisingly comfortable chair.
“Louie, please,” he said and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “What can I do you for?” he asked. His glance at her crossed legs did not go unnoticed.
Tess questioned her choice of the black, above-the-knee skirt she wore. It had given her confidence when she’d put it on that morning. N
ow, however, she wondered if that skirt should be kept just for Beau. She smoothed it down toward her knee, and Louie smiled.
“You were referred to me by Katelyn Rafael of Layona Farms?”
“Katie,” he nodded, “of course. She’s always sending pretty ladies my way.”
“She didn’t refer me for…that,” Tess said, irritated.
He laughed again and brought his seat back to its upright position, lowering his hands to his lap. “I know. I’m sorry. It was meant to be a joke. Katie’s an old friend of mine. I know who you are.”
“You do?” Tess asked, a little miffed by his innuendo.
“Of course. You’ve called me on eight occasions, the last one being yesterday at four.”
Tess looked at him inquisitively.
“I’m not very good at returning calls,” he admitted. “It’s not that they’re not important.” He held Tess’s gaze as he spoke of his inability, or lack of desire, really, to return phone calls, and his rampant ability to take on far too many things at once.
Tess warmed to his confession. She told him, with a little laugh, that he was not at all like her, that she was just the opposite—she leaned toward the compulsive side; every phone call returned, every milestone met, every client followed-up with. Then she quickly added, “I don’t mean that how it sounds, like I’m better than other people. In fact, I think it’s a detriment, being so compulsive about things.” What was she doing? Where was her upper hand? For once, Tess had no ulterior motive during her client meeting. They fell into a conversation about missed opportunities for him and instances when she’d driven her clients crazy with constant follow-ups. Worrying about sealing the deal had fallen by the wayside. Tess liked Louie’s off-beat personality. At 3:30, when the completely capable receptionist buzzed Louie’s phone, Tess had not only not sealed the deal, but she’d accepted his invitation to dinner—to further discuss how they might work together.
***
The phone rang as Tess was heading out the door to meet Louie for dinner. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Johnson, I’m glad I caught you.”
Mr. Levy’s voice made Tess’s heart race. Damn. She’d been avoiding the overzealous insurance agent. “I’m just on my way out the door,” Tess said, hurriedly.
Mr. Levy rattled on, “Can we schedule a time to talk? I’ve been leaving messages for weeks. We have insurance that needs to be tended to. The funeral—”
Tess interrupted him, “Sorry, I have to go.” She hung up the phone without an ounce of guilt. “Where the hell are my keys?” she strode toward the table by the front door, snagging the keys with her shaking hands. Pushing the sadness away and replacing it with a feeling of hope had become almost a physical task as much as a mental one. The mantra she’d adapted, He’s coming back, he promised, helped her through the excruciating emptiness that she knew would easily disable her if she let it.
***
Tess entered the quaint Thai restaurant five minutes later than she’d hoped, the smell of fish, lemongrass, and garlic hovered in the air. The lights were dim, creating an aura of relaxation and romance. Romance! Suddenly Tess worried that she’d given Louie the wrong impression. They had decided to meet to discuss work, hadn’t they? She was sure they had. So why were her nerves all tingly? You’re pregnant and married, remember? The restaurant was busy, and for that she was thankful, though she was sure she’d overdressed in her black slacks, pale yellow blouse, and black blazer. She quickly decided it was a good thing to be overdressed. She looked professional, and that was just what she needed to portray.
Tess mentally transformed from nervous woman to business professional, standing up straighter, and tightening a curt smile across her lips. She was led to a darkened corner by a beautiful Asian woman as thin as the day was long. Louie stood when she arrived, welcoming her with a smile. Dressed in the same jeans and t-shirt he’d worn earlier to the office, he made no apologies for his appearance and didn’t comment on Tess’s either. Tess wasn’t sure if she found his nonchalance rude or appealing.
Conversation came easily. Louie told Tess about a client that he had met with in the afternoon, a gentleman who owned five retail chain stores and had recently “lost” his accounting records. Tess could not imagine having the patience to deal with that type of situation. She’d have confronted the man about poor business practices or tax evasion. Louie explained that he’d told the client to find them before April, or he’d have to back out of being his accountant. He was ethical, Tess concluded, and she found that to be admirable.
“So tell me about the phone calls,” she said. “What can you possibly gain by not returning phone calls? How do you stay in business, much less grow a business?”
Louie smiled and flagged the waitress over. He ordered another glass of wine for himself and another seltzer water for Tess.
“I do return my clients’ calls,” he said and took a bite of his Shrimp Pad Thai.
“So it’s just non-clients that you ignore?” Tess asked.
“No, I don’t ignore anyone. Usually, my secretary, Kay, returns calls that are from non-clients, and if they appear to be potential clients or need my attention, then I return them.”
“So…” Tess was a little annoyed about his lack of explanation about her phone calls.
“So I wasn’t ignoring your calls. I know you’re a headhunter, and I haven’t really decided if I want to use one or not.”
“I thought you had used Klineman Staffing, and before that, PermaStaff.”
“You do your research,” he smiled. “Impressive.”
Tess prided herself on knowing how to win a client over, memorizing their hiring practices better than they know them themselves, which was easy because it was rarely the principles doing the actual hiring. Be persistent, professional, and offer them a fair market value for services rendered. Last, but not least, always present candidates that are thoroughly screened and tested, their backgrounds investigated, and only represent the people that she, herself, would hire in her own office.
“Let’s see how good I am at this game,” Louie said conspiratorially. “You’ve been in business for ten years. Your first office was a small townhouse in Rockville. You moved to Bethesda seven years ago and have been renting the same office space ever since. You’ve negotiated a smaller increase in rent the last two years than other renters. Your right hand is the lovely Alice Workman, and your primary means of support is mid to upper level management—although as far as I can see, you work with just about any type of business, with the exception of law firms, and—”
Slack jawed, Tess blinked rapidly. “How do you--“
Louie smiled broadly. “You see, two can play at these games.” He took a sip of his wine, and his eyes danced above the rim of his glass, then suddenly became serious.
“Well, you nailed it—dead on,” Tess nodded, perhaps she’d met her professional match. Her mind reeled through a way to one-up him, but while her mind was running, he kicked her legs out from under her.
“And…you recently lost your husband,” he said in a serious, quiet tone.
Tess’s smile faded. She rolled her lips into her mouth. He’s coming back. He’s coming back to me. She steeled herself against the pressing heartbreak and straightened her back against her chair. “I haven’t lost him,” she said confidently.
Louie cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…the crash…”
Tess shook her head. “They—” she waved her hands as if displaying an item, “his family, my friends—they all believe he’s gone, but I don’t think so. They simply haven’t found him yet.” Her voice told Louie to back off, and he did.
He nodded. “Alright then.”
An uncomfortable silence passed between them.
“Let’s talk about hiring practices. What can you offer that no one else can?” Louie taunted.
Madonna interrupted Tess’s thoughts, more specifically, Madonna’s “Vogue.” Odd choice for a man’s ring tone.
Tess slipped into her car and replayed the evening in her mind. She wondered who had called Louie. A wife? Babysitter? He hadn’t mentioned a wife or a child, but then again, Tess had never asked. She had been too caught up in enjoying the diversion from her grief. What was she doing? How could she have pushed Beau aside in her mind like that? Guilt wooed her. She wanted to feel stricken—lost even—by Beau’s absence, as she had in the weeks prior. She knew she should feel those emotions, and yet, somehow, each day, she was becoming stronger. Her faith that Beau was not gone forever extinguished her fear that he might have been. It was almost as if he were on a business trip, and she knew he’d be coming home—only she didn’t know when.
Iraq
Beau stared at the photo of Tess, remembering fondly the afternoon it had been taken. They’d been dating for about a month, and Beau was head over heels in love with Tess. They were fishing on Kevin’s father’s boat, joking about one of them falling in the water. Tess was deathly afraid of any body of water larger than a swimming pool, and she wasn’t too keen on those, either. She’d clung tightly to Beau’s arm. Suddenly, the wind kicked up and the small boat rocked from side to side. Beau had to pry himself away to help bring down the sail, and somehow, at the very moment that Beau had turned his back, the boat had tipped. Tess had gone flailing into the water, shrieking and petrified. Kevin and Beau had pulled her out seconds later.
Come Back To Me Page 5
