“I talked to Max yesterday,” he begins. “He thinks you’re coming along quite well.”
“Well, we’ve been working hard.”
“I appreciate you taking this so seriously. It really means a lot to me.” He pauses for a second and then starts waving his hand back and forth in the air. “Your physical fitness and health and all that, of course.”
“Of course.”
Liar.
Cooper pulls a garment bag from the side of his desk and passes it over to me.
“I need you to take this shirt back again. The new one they gave me still doesn’t fit.”
“Certainly.”
“Well,” he says with a sigh, leaning back in his chair, “I guess that’s all.”
It’s now or never.
“Actually, while I’m in here, there was something I wanted to discuss with you.”
Cooper leans forward in his chair, clearly intrigued. He probably thinks I want to ask him about my backhand. Choosing my words carefully, I drape the garment bag across my lap.
“When you hired me for this job, you said you wanted us to really collaborate on some new ideas. Well, I’ve been contemplating a new idea that I think you’re simply going to love.”
“Go on,” he instructs, placing his chin on his hand. At the least, I have his full attention.
“This company could really use a facelift in the community, something that tells people that we’re not here simply to make money, but also to make a difference in the world.”
“Uh-huh, I’m very interested. Please continue.”
“Well, what better way to do that than to contribute to the health and wellbeing of the entire city?”
“It’s a very nice thought, but how do you intend to pull that off?”
“It’s very simple, actually,” I reply, leaning forward in my chair. (I decided earlier that appearing animated about the topic would peak his interest, so I’m giving it a shot.) “Picture this: In October, we host a community-wide blood drive. As long as we do it during that month, we can tie in a Halloween-based theme. You know how people are—they eat up the gimmicky, themed events. I believe we can get a large number of people in the community involved, and the more involved the community becomes, the more likely the media is to cover the event. The television networks love these types of events, too, so I can’t foresee any reason why they wouldn’t turn out in full force.”
Cooper tips back his chair, folds his arms across his chest, and gazes out the office windows. The view of the city from this office is really amazing; it’s possible to see for miles, overlooking corporate buildings, parks, and houses. I wonder if he’s imagining all this territory, thousands of people, showing up for an event at his company.
Sitting back in my chair, I let everything I proposed sink in. I’ve never really had a serious conversation with Cooper before. Every time I talk to him, he turns the conversation to tennis or what vitamins he is taking or what he ate last night. I do know, however, that this entire project hinges completely on whether or not I can convince him to trust me to oversee it. Not only do I have to sell the concept, but I have to sell myself as the project planner. That might be easier said than done.
“So the entire community would be coming to an event that we host,” Cooper says dreamily, still gazing out the window.
“No question about it.”
“And you’re sure it will generate positive publicity?” he asks, bringing his hand up and rubbing the back of his neck. Viewing this behavior, one would think he never made a single decision about the running of his own company.
“Absolutely. In the media’s eyes, you’ll be hosting the event and getting nothing in return. However, you and I are both aware of the kind of windfall that can come from a good name in the community. It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved.”
Cooper rises and walks to the window, placing one hand on the wall and staring down at the street below. For a moment I’m afraid he’ll turn around and shake his head, ushering me out of his office. Instead, he turns around and slams his fist on his desk.
“I love it! It’s fantastic!” He sits at his desk and pulls out his brown leather book. “I’ll just make a few calls and—”
“If you don’t mind, sir, I have another suggestion.” This is it–everything rides on this tiny detail.
“Kent,” he states, looking up from the book.
“I’m sorry, Kent.” Deep breath. “I would like to handle the blood drive myself.”
Cooper taps his finger on his desk for a moment. “The entire thing, yourself?” he questions, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
“From beginning to end.”
“I just don’t know,” he begins, rubbing his forehead. “What about the—”
“I’ve already considered all the details. There’s no doubt that I have plenty of time to take care of the planning, and of course it won’t take any time away from my tennis lessons. Besides, with my marketing background, I have a lot of connections. I’m certain you wouldn’t want anyone else internally to take time out of their busy schedules, so it would appear that I’m the perfect candidate.”
He folds his brown leather book and puts both hands on top of it.
“You’re certain it won’t interfere with…anything else you already do?”
“I’m certain.” How could it interfere with doing nothing?
Cooper leans back again, assessing me and thinking about the situation. I think I’ve got him—how can he say no? This is going to be so much fun! Besides, just think how great it will look on my résumé.
“Okay, then. Full speed ahead. All systems go.”
Good grief, who does he think he is, Captain Kirk?
Standing up, I head toward my own office door, swinging the garment bag in my hand, mentally preparing for all the things I’ll need to do in the next few weeks.
“That means yes, by the way,” Cooper calls.
“I know,” I reply, turning in the doorway.
He nods his head up and down a few times, smiling. “I knew you had potential. You’ll do big things here, mark my words!”
If I thought those big things didn’t involve sitting around looking pretty or perfecting my serve, I might be inclined to agree.
Chapter Sixteen
It has been a month, and Mom still hasn’t spoken to me. Why is she the one pouting and sulking and refusing to converse with me when I am the one who should be angry over her false accusations? I mean, coming over to my house and staging that ridiculous intervention—and with Brittany, no less, who is apparently not even capable of having a short, polite conversation with me. How could she possibly expect me to take that kind of nonsense seriously?
I’ll tell you who I really feel sorry for, and that is poor Dad. I wish there was something I could do for him. He has been calling me on the sly, waiting until Mom is out of the house or on an errand. He says he goes out to his workshop whenever possible, especially on the nights when she’s acting particularly loony. He also told me that Brittany spends most of her time there during the day while Lance is at work. I can only imagine the crazy schemes the two of them could come up with while no one else is around to talk sense into them. No wonder they accosted me like they did.
When I came home from my jog the night they came over, I immediately shot an email to Josh, completely indignant with their behavior, and he responded by telling me that it was pretty darn hilarious. Not helpful in the least!
I have only had compliments about my appearance, so I’m absolutely certain their comments about me looking sick are unfounded. Besides, if I did have anorexia or bulimia, I’m pretty sure the way Mom and Brittany handled their concern would not have been effective.
Strangely enough, it all follows the general pattern of the way things work in my life. Every time something good happens, there is an equal dose of the unpleasant to balance it out. I make twice as much money as before, but I have to work with Cooper. I make strides towards becoming physicall
y fit, but now my job hinges on my athletic ability. I am a little closer to wearing Max down in the quest to make him fall in love with me, but now Mom isn’t speaking to me. It’s as though I can’t have the good without inviting the bad somehow.
My car practically drives itself into the parking lot of that little church with the country ambiance. As I exit the vehicle, I see Hazel walking towards me. She smiles as she comes near, and the thought that she’s been waiting for me fills me with happiness. No matter how weird my life becomes, at least I have the wonderful Mason family in my corner.
“Hi, Maddie,” she states as she folds me into a hug. “Are things going better with your mom?”
“Not really,” I breathe as she links her arm in mine. We usually see eye to eye, Hazel and me, mostly because we’re the same height. She’s a very thin woman, just like Jess always has been, and her light ash-brown hair reaches halfway down her back and straight as a board. I can’t remember it ever being styled differently through the years. Looking into her face, I see a bit of my reflection in her glasses.
“I’m sorry,” she says simply. “Listen, I have something I wanted to ask you. Josh said you really like that author Camdyn Taylor?”
“Yes, I love her books!” She stops walking, and I face her expectantly.
“Well, she’s going to be here in Louisville in a couple weeks for a conference, and Josh was able to get some tickets. He asked if you would want to go see her with me. Of course, if you’d rather take one of your friends—”
“No, Hazel, I would absolutely love to go to the conference with you. Thank you so much! You just made my day.”
“It was all Josh’s idea,” she insists. “Good, I’m looking forward to it!”
Two of the Gardwin kids brush past me at that moment, making vomiting noises.
“I’ll tell you what I’m not looking forward to: having my hair pulled during church,” I mutter, giving Hazel a weak smile.
“Boys,” she jokes. “That’s how they tell a girl they like her, when they’re that age. Don’t you remember Josh pulling your hair all the time?”
“Did he?” I wonder with a laugh.
“Did he?!” she repeats, shaking her head. “Honey, sometimes I think he still is.”
When I arrive at work Monday morning, the first thing I see as I step off the elevator is Dina motioning subtly at me. She seems to hear all and see all from the hallway, so she often has some interesting tidbit to offer for Project Cooper. I sidle up to her desk and lean down.
“What is it today?” I whisper. She glances over at Cooper’s office and then slides her glasses down on her nose.
“Possible kink in the plans,” she murmurs. “There’s a new body on the floor.”
“A new VP?” I wonder distractedly. “Not another assistant, I hope.”
“Even worse. Another Cooper.”
One of the doors behind me opens, and I quickly move towards my office. What does she mean, another Cooper? How could there be another Cooper? One Cooper is bad enough.
Surely she doesn’t mean Cooper’s brother, Brent. No, it can’t be. He has his own law firm or something across town. Maybe she is referring to someone as off-the-wall as Cooper. That doesn’t seem likely, either. Not even possible, really. I wonder how long I’ll have to wait until I can sneak back out there. I wish she hadn’t even said a word!
Swinging open the door to my office, I step into blood drive central. There are design schematics resting all over the office for ad layouts and press materials. Sketches for backdrops and fliers are scattered across those. Then, of course, there are the stacks of paperwork showing who I’ve contacted, who I need to contact, who has committed, and who I need to convince to commit. It’s been more work than I thought it would be, but it will all be worth it in the end.
Ding-dong.
Oh, come on, are you kidding? It’s way too early in the morning for that already!
“Maddie,” Cooper belts a song through the door. “Maddie Heard, are you in there?”
Why is he in such a good mood? It’s Monday morning, for crying out loud.
“You rang?” I ask, poking my head through the connecting door. He laughs, just as he does every time I say that. As wealthy as he is, you would think he would have a more sophisticated sense of humor.
“Yes, I did. Come in, I’ve got something to tell you.”
I hesitantly step into his office, wondering what it is this time. Shirt collar a bit too tight, so he wants me to return it? Socks don’t quite match, so he wants me to scour the city looking for the right color? Maybe wants me to run across town to pick up one of those special cinnamon rolls he likes so much?
He stands up and begins pacing as I sit in front of his desk.
“We’ve got a new employee today,” he states. Yes, so I’ve heard. “I want her to work directly with you. She can help you on this project you’re working on, and then you can figure out which direction she needs to go…what she needs to do within the company.”
“Okay,” I reply uneasily. This doesn’t sound very appealing.
“She is going to be working out of Bentley’s old office. We went ahead and moved him down a floor.”
This does sound like another assistant. Maybe he found someone who might be good at golf this time.
“When should we get started?” I ask.
He pauses and sits back in his chair. “Right away. You should go get her first thing this morning. She probably doesn’t know much about the type of project you’re doing, but she should be able to make some calls for you, do some basic clerical-type work.”
Well, I know for certain that I, for one, do not need an assistant. This is a nightmare.
Rising from my seat, I walk toward the door, pausing as I push it open.
“What’s her name?” I question.
He looks up from his desk and smiles. “Audrey,” he replies. “Audrey Cooper.”
Audrey Cooper? So there is another Cooper on the floor, Dina was right about that. I wonder what the story is with this woman.
Stepping out into the hall, I immediately notice that Dina is on the phone, so it’s impossible to ask her about the situation and prepare myself. The office Cooper referenced is the third one on the left, so I might as well dive in like a super sleuth and solve the mystery right off the bat.
I stop short in front of the office and look back at Dina, who bulges her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. She knows what’s going on, because she knows everything. Ugh, I wish she wasn’t on the phone, because I’m dying to find out who is behind that door.
I should just call Katie—she is in Human Resources now, after all. She should know who the new employee is. What if she’s busy, though? If she says she’ll have to call me back, it could be an hour or more before I find out about Audrey Cooper. No, I’ll simply have to see for myself.
Knocking on the door, I wait for a moment before I hear a muffled voice tell me to come in. As I push the door open and step inside, I see a young woman chatting on her cell phone. She motions that she will only be a minute, so I stand waiting, using the opportunity to assess her appearance.
I’m guessing her to be close to my age, slightly heavier than me, with plump cheeks and entirely too much blush. Her bleach-blonde tousled hair is showing about a half-inch of dark roots, and she’s wearing a raspberry shade of lip gloss. As she leans back in her chair, I notice that she is wearing Capri pants and flip flops.
Honestly, flip flops on a Monday morning in the office. Didn’t anyone tell her about the dress code? Has she no sense of propriety?
“Well, I guess I need to go. There’s someone in my office,” she groans into her tiny phone.
From all appearances, I can safely surmise that Cooper did not hire her for anything related to a sport. She looks like she would have a hard time keeping up on a long walk, much less in a tennis match. At least my job would seem to be safe, for the time being.
She places the phone gingerly on her desk. It occurs to me that she
looks completely out of place in the office, the way those teenagers look when they come here to shadow people in their jobs. She begins combing through her purse until she finds a hair pick, and then carefully brushes her hair to the side before turning to look at me.
“Hi, I’m Maddie Heard,” I say, ignoring her rudeness. “Mr. Cooper said we would be working together, so I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
“Yeah, okay,” she mumbles, turning her attention back to her purse. I watch in silence as she pulls out a compact, flips it open and checks her reflection, rotating her head slowly back and forth so she can see every angle. She purses her lips a couple of times and then inspects her teeth.
What are you, anyway? Some kind of beauty queen wannabe? Can’t you even be polite for one minute?
She glances up at me over her compact.
“You’re still here?” she wonders, looking at herself in the mirror once again.
Well, you certainly aren’t Miss Congeniality either. I hope you have something really special in store for the talent competition.
“Your name is Audrey, right? Audrey Cooper?”
“Yeah,” she states, not bothering to look at me. She flips her compact shut and begins looking through her purse again. It’s a nice handbag, too, and much more expensive than anything I own.
“Well, Mr. Cooper said you would be working with me on a big project we have coming up, so whenever you get some time, I’m just up the hallway. I’ll be glad to get you started.”
“Okay, whatever,” she says, throwing me a look that is all but screaming for me to get out of her personal space. I twist the doorknob and start to step out, but then turn back to her.
“Cooper,” I casually mention. “Any relation to Kent Cooper?”
“Yeah,” she says, eyes narrowing. “He’s my dad.”
“Oh…I see,” I reply, practically stammering.
So it is bring your daughter to work day, after all! I certainly didn’t expect that response, especially after seeing her. She looks nothing like Cooper or his wife. I wouldn’t have even pegged her as a relative, if I had been guessing.
Simply Mad (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 1) Page 14
