The Boss Upstairs (Orchard Heights Book 3 (standalone))

by Roya Carmen

The woman in question is a small somber brunette. She stares at the floor, slightly uncomfortable. I know exactly how she feels. I was there last week. The drill is to tell everyone your name, and quickly explain who you are grieving, but only if you feel comfortable doing so.

  Her name is Sarah, and she has recently lost her older sister to breast cancer. Her sister was only thirty-five. Unfortunately, she is not only dealing with her sister’s death, but she’s recently found out that she also carries the gene responsible for her sister’s cancer. She’s considering a double mastectomy.

  I shake my head. Now there’s a sad story. Beat that, Charmaine.

  Why is the world so horrible? We just never know what’s around the corner. That’s why we need to try to live every day to the fullest. That’s a lesson I want to teach Ethan.

  Following introductions, we all tell everyone about our week, about a step forward we’ve taken. Mine was taking Ethan to the zoo. This is the kind of thing I dreamed of us doing as a family, and it hurts to do this kind of thing now. But I need to, even if I have to force myself to, because we can’t just mope around all day in our loft. I need to give Ethan a full fulfilling life.

  Following the meeting, we linger and engage in small chit-chat. I don’t particularly enjoy this part of the meeting, yet I don’t want to be that woman, the anti-social weirdo who runs off as soon as the meeting is over.

  Samuel smiles at me, and approaches slowly. He has a nice smile, the kind that comes with a dimple. My heart breaks for him. I couldn’t imagine ever losing Ethan.

  “How are you today?” he asks.

  “Better than last week,” I tell him. “How about you?”

  He smiles again. “Better. Sacha and I went on a small trip downtown last weekend. Caught a show and stayed overnight. Had a dip in the pool. It was nice.”

  I smile, happy for him. Sacha is his daughter, the one who’s still alive. She’s sixteen, the same age her older sister was when she took her own life.

  “That’s great. What show did you see?”

  “Lion King.”

  My whole being lifts at his words. I love Broadway. Donovan was never a huge fan, but he still took me occasionally because he knew I loved it. “I love that one,” I tell him. “I haven’t been to a show in over two years.” Not since Donovan’s passing.

  His smile fades. “That’s too bad… why not?”

  “Well, I used to go with Donovan…” My words trail off.

  “Uh,” he falters. “Do you have friends or family who could go with you?”

  “Well, I do have the one friend who’s into it. She actually works in theatre. I suppose I could consider going with her.”

  He smiles again, fine lines etching the corners of his eyes. “Well, you’re always welcome to come with me and Sacha.”

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling ill-at-ease. I’m sure he’s just being nice.

  “I’m serious. Next time we go, I’ll let you know.”

  I nod, thankful for his kindness.

  “But we should probably start with coffee first,” he suggests, clearly asking me for a date. I’m shocked at first, but then I remind myself that he hasn’t just lost a spouse like me. Perhaps he’s more open to relationships than I am.

  “Uh… sure,” I reply. It’s just coffee after all.

  His face lights up. “Sounds like a plan.”

  I smile politely.

  “Cookie?” he asks, offering me one of his cookies. “I shouldn’t have taken two.”

  “Um… sure,” I say, surprising myself.

  I don’t know why I accepted the cookie, but now I need to scarf it down.

  Just like I must put up with these stupid meetings for the foreseeable future.

  I kind of hate my life sometimes.

  Ethan and I are stretched out on the floor, working on a large floor puzzle, a cartoon illustration of a dog. We’ve done this puzzle countless times before, yet he never gets tired of it. He’s getting pretty good at it. He barely needs my help anymore. Thankfully, the pieces are the size of my hand.

  I’m glad to see him busy and happy, but I’m really down. I’m not sure if it was the grief meeting, or the fact that I still haven’t heard back from Rosetta. Probably a little bit of both.

  “Good job,” I cheer when he successfully locks two more pieces together. “You’re such a smart boy.”

  He shoots me a playful grin. He has Donovan’s smile. He reminds me so much of his father, it hurts sometimes.

  My phone rings, the familiar old-fashioned telephone ring which gets on everyone’s nerves. I’m unfamiliar with the number displayed. “Hello,” I say, curious.

  “Hello, Honey.” The voice on the line is unmistakable. “Rosetta here. How are you?”

  I stand and walk away from Ethan. “I’m great,” I tell her. “How are you?” I ask politely, eager to know if I got the job or not.

  “I’m fantastic as always,” she says. “And I have great news for you. The job is yours if you want it.”

  I do a quiet little dance, and Ethan eyes me dubiously. “Of course I want it,” I say, careful not to sound too excited, despite the fact that I could jump up on the walls.

  “Perfect,” she says. “The Boss Man will be pleased.”

  My heart skips a beat at the thought of the beautiful Boss Man.

  “When can you start?” she asks. “How about next Monday?”

  “I’m there,” I say. “What time?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  “Great, perfect.”

  “Okay, gotta go, Honey, but we’ll see you on Monday.”

  “With bells on.”

  As soon as I end the call, I jump up and down like a kid. Ethan stands up and joins me.

  “Mommy got a job!” I sing. “Mommy got a job!”

  “Mommy job!!!” he cheers, all smiles. “Mommy job!!!”

  The sight of him, bouncing, happy as can be, brings tears to my eyes.

  4

  I’m a nervous wreck as I rummage through my closet. What to wear? What to wear? First impressions are important. I suppose it’s a second impression, but still. What should my work uniform look like? I’m a professional and work in an office. Yet I’m a creative type.

  After what seems like a week, I finally settle on a flowy polka dot skirt and frilly white blouse, paired with black Mary-Janes with a sensible heel. Luckily, since the job is only an elevator ride up, I don’t need to worry about boots and jackets. I grab a cardigan in case they keep the space cool. I don’t need to bring a lunch either since I can easily go back down to my place.

  “Where’s Winky?” Patricia asks. “I know he won’t nap without him.”

  I smile. “I’ll go look.” I’m really blessed. Patricia is the most amazing mother-in-law a woman could ask for. She’s helped much more than my own mother these past few years. My mom, as great as she is, would rather play bridge, go to the spa and go shopping. She’s never truly been the homemaking mom type, and that’s okay. It’s just the way she is, and I still love her. Patricia, on the other hand, loves to bake and clean, and fawn over Ethan. I offered compensation for her help, but she adamantly refuses. She says she loves every minute of it, and I believe her. And I also suspect that she feels sorry for me, and wants to help as much as she can.

  I thank the heavens every day for her.

  After a frenzied search, I finally find Winky tucked in between the cushions of the sofa. “Found him!” I announce, and we both rejoice. You’d swear we found the Holy Grail.

  I kiss Ethan on the forehead. “You be good for Grandma. Love you, sweetie.”

  “Luv yo,” he babbles, all smiles.

  “Don’t forget to pack Winky when you bring him to daycare this afternoon,” I remind her. “Or he’ll have a fit.”

  She smiles. “I know. I’ve seen it. Don’t worry.”

  I kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks again, Pat. You’re a Godsend.”

  “Good luck,” she says as I leave.

  I feel so nauseated, I
fear I might get sick in the elevator. I need to get myself together. It’s just a temporary contract job, not my whole life. And I’m up for it. I have the experience and the skills. What I need to work on is my confidence.

  I’m trembling when I ring the doorbell. I stare at my Mary Janes as I wait. Finally, Rosetta answers the door, a huge grin on her face. I suspect that it won’t take me long to get comfortable here. How could it not with someone as easy-going as Rosetta? I’m so glad I don’t have to work closely with the Boss Man because as nice as he seems, he also seems really uptight. I’m agitated whenever I’m around him. Just the thought of him being nearby makes me nervous actually.

  “You can keep your shoes on,” she says, “but the shirt must go.”

  I laugh. “Well, that’s not fair. You still have your shirt on.”

  “Well, I can fix that.” She undoes the first button of her blouse, and we both break out into laughter.

  “Come in, and make yourself comfortable,” she tells me. “I’ve got a desk set up for you.”

  I follow her to the office, and sure enough there’s a desk where the two chairs and table used to be. It’s a simple desk, completely empty, accompanied by an expensive looking ergonomic chair.

  I take a seat, and am pleasantly surprised by the comfort of the chair.

  “I was just gonna get a cheap chair from Ikea, but Boss Man insisted I get you a top-of-the line chair. He was going on and on about how Designers can suffer from carpal tunnel syndrome, neck pain, tension headaches, eye strain. Apparently, he’s researched it thoroughly. What a nerd.”

  “Wow, I guess I should thank him.”

  She shrugs. “I guess. He’s sweet that way. He cares.”

  “Good to know someone’s looking out for me,” I joke.

  “Yep. I’m not looking out for you. I’m in for myself. And don’t you dare touch my food.”

  I settle my laptop and mouse on the desk, and get busy hooking it up. I’ve brought extension cords and all my supplies. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” We agreed when I was first hired that I’d bring my own computer in with all the graphics software and fonts I need.

  She points to the small stainless steel refrigerator in the corner. “I’ve saved two shelves for you.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t bring anything but a bottle of water today.”

  “Well, I might share,” she says. “If you’re a good girl.”

  I laugh. “I’ll try to be. What do you have in there?”

  A mischievous smile stretches across her face. “Mandarins, charcuterie, cheese slices, and… my special chocolate.”

  I smile, adjusting the framed photo of Ethan on my desk. “Well, I don’t know about the special chocolate, but I love mandarins.”

  She walks over to the cabinet next to the refrigerator. “And I’ve got some crackers and nuts in here, granola bars too. As long as you ask, you can have some.”

  “Thank you.”

  I stare at the black and white framed photo on the wall; the Chicago skyline. I still can’t believe I’m here, in the penthouse of Orchard Heights. The girls and I always wondered what it looked like. Now I can tell them all about it. Well, I’m sure many rooms will remain a mystery, but it’s still pretty exciting.

  “All settled in?” he asks.

  My heart jumps at the sound of his voice. When I turn to look at him, my whole body reacts in a way it hasn’t in years. Or ever.

  This needs to stop. I need to act like a normal human being around him. “Uh… yes, I’m just getting my desk ready,” I tell him, trying not to stare too long. He’s all in black today… Mr. Dark & Mysterious.

  “Great,” he says. “Don’t hesitate to talk to Rosetta if you need anything.”

  “Uh… thank you for the chair,” I’m quick to say. “Rosetta told me how you insisted I have a good chair.”

  He walks closer to my desk, and rests a hand on its edge. “I know a good chair is very important in your field. The well-being of my employees is always tantamount.”

  I nod. Yes, he’s reminding me that he’s my boss. I’m just a lowly employee, and I should probably stop staring at his sculpted shoulders.

  Bosses should not be allowed to be this good looking.

  He leaves us with a wave, and I feel suddenly empty. I want him to come back. I want to be near him. But I know this is all I’ll get in the coming months, just quick occasional glances of him, a real tease fest.

  Well, I certainly could have worse problems.

  After lunch, Rosetta gives me all the notes pertaining to the project. It’s all there; charity information, numbers, projected plans, mission statement, and all that fun stuff. The report also includes various possible color themes and an overview of the dynamic we are going for; peaceful, hopeful, warm and positive.

  “Boss Man has set up a meeting for this afternoon going over all this. And after that, you’re on your own,” Rosetta tells me. “I’ll be overseeing the project since Boss Man is so busy doing who knows what. You’ll work on a few options for us, and you can hand me your work when it’s done. I’ll make sure he has a look. Once he decides what concept he likes the best, you can get to work on all the stuff you’ll need to do.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I say, secretly relieved that I won’t need to spend much time with him. Rosetta, I can take. Mr. Boss Man, not so much. He’s nice, but intimidating as hell. I suppose some people are just like that. They possess a quiet imposing force, a strong presence.

  It’s three o‘clock, and the three of us are all seated at the round dining room table. The room is stunning; a mahogany table, blue velvet chairs and a fabulous sparkling glass chandelier. One wall is mirrored, the other displays tasteful black and white photos of sea life. The opposing wall is a built-in rack of wine bottles.

  I’m still ogling the space when Mr. Boss Man officially starts the meeting. We all have copies of the report, and Weston insists on diligently going over every point, welcoming feedback and questions. I’m too overwhelmed to ask anything or offer any feedback. Rosetta, on the other hand, is very vocal. Too vocal, some might say. They clash a little, but I can tell she’s the perfect compliment for him. She’s the sweet to his salty. The yin to his yang.

  We go over possible names for the organization, names from a list created by Mr. Hanson and Rosetta. We finally settle on Precious Hearts Memorial Fund.

  I’m exhausted and so ready to go home and see Ethan. I don’t want to just run off, but it is my checkout time. I thank both Mr. Hanson and Rosetta before I leave.

  As I ride the elevator down, I’m happy with how the day went. I smile at the recollection of Rosetta’s antics, and I grin when I think of Weston. He’s Mr. Boss Man. He’s Mr. Hanson. But he’s also Weston. Although I would never call him that in his presence.

  I’m not stupid. I know my place.

  I settle for a simple grey sheath dress, and red pointy kitten heels for my second day. I’m already full of ideas, giddy.

  “I’m happy to see you like this,” Patricia says. “You’re practically glowing.”

  “I really like this job,” I tell her. “And thanks so much for helping. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  “My pleasure,” she says. “Now, you get going. You don’t want to be late on your second day.”

  I check my watch. It’s five to nine. “You’re right. I better get going.”

  I’m shocked when Weston answers the door.

  “Please come in,” he says somberly.

  I wonder where Rosetta is. Is she late?

  “How are you?” he asks politely.

  “I’m well,” I reply, wondering what’s up.

  “Could you please follow me to my office?”

  “Uh… sure.” I nip at his heels, taking in the view as we walk. I’ve noticed his lovely behind before, and it is definitely a good one. He’s wearing a checkered button shirt and dark trousers today.

  I’m excited. I’ve never been inside his office before. It’s right next to Rosetta’s.
I’ve tried to peek in, but couldn't since there’s a small hall leading to the main space. All I could see were photos of what I assumed to be Hawaii or some other similar tropical location.

  I’m giddy as I follow him down the small narrow hall. I glance at the tropical photos as we make our way to his personal space.

  I’m impressed but not surprised when I finally see his office. It’s amazing, not overly large, but very cozy. An oval desk sits in front of French doors leading to the patio. A sitting area is tucked in one corner, a fireplace in the other. Built-in bookshelves line one wall, and everything is in perfect order. And the pièce de résistance sits against the opposing wall, a giant aquarium with loads of colorful fish and coral.

  He motions to the large tufted black leather chair. “Please have a seat.”

  I do as I’m told, and feel small in the large arm chair. He sits across from me on the contemporary loveseat. “There’s been a small change of plans,” he says, and I don’t like the expression on his face. I don’t like it at all.

  He looks devastated. Is he about to fire me? I’ve barely started! I couldn’t have possibly done a bad job yet. I haven’t had the chance to.

  He clicks the tip of his pen, shifts in his seat and stares down at the notepad on his lap. “Rosetta has had a fall.”

  Oh no… “Is she okay? What happened?” I imagine the worst, possibly as a result of Weston’s nervous demeanor.

  A whisper of a smile traces his lips. “She’ll be fine,” he tells me. “She took a fall down her stairs and broke her ankle. Apparently, she’ll need surgery.”

  Wow. I think about the fun-loving kind woman I barely know, and I’m devastated. “What does this mean?” I ask. “She’s not coming back?” Of course she’s not. Not in the near future anyway.

  “Well, she will be out of commission for at least a week or two. But knowing Rosetta, she’ll want to get back to work as soon as she can.”

  “Wow…” I’m at a loss for words. We were meant to work together, and now she’s gone. “Does… this mean that I need to report to you?” I ask, my words faltering. Truth be told, I’m terrified to report to him.