“We did it again,” she said with a note of pride and satisfaction as she lay her hands in her lap. This was exactly what the company holiday party was supposed to be.
The live band began playing the mellow holiday songs in the corner, and Cindy felt a jolt of electricity run up her spine. It was Christmas, and for the first time, it actually felt like it with the evergreen trees lining the walls and garland and tinsel which had been tastefully dispersed around the room.
“There you are.”
Even before she saw the warm greeting in his eyes, Cindy could hear Richard’s affection in his voice.
He crouched beside her so she wouldn’t crane her neck. “You look stunning.”
She flushed in appreciation of the praise. “Thank you.”
She took a moment to appraise his own attire, a black tuxedo with a white rose pinned to the breast pocket. “You clean up well yourself.”
“High praise indeed.” His eyes danced with amusement as he retrieved something from the table beside him. “I have something for you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”
They hadn’t discussed even if they were going to attend the party together. She hadn’t expected a gift of any kind.
He handed her a clear box, and she gasped when she found the white rose resting against a soft bed of babies’ breath, fern leaves, and a lace ribbon.
“I know we never decided we were attending this together,” he said with a rueful smile. “Then again, I’d never expected to wake up in your apartment this morning.”
She blushed as she caught sight of the other coworkers whose eyebrows raised at the words. It sounded far less innocent than it had actually been, but she’d never be able to convince them of that.
“So, you decided to get me a wrist corsage that matched your boutonniere?”
“Something like that,” he said as he slipped the lace over her wrist. “I was hoping it would go nicely with your dress.”
Cindy swallowed as their eyes met again. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”
Their eyes held each other’s gaze a little longer than usual before he turned and surveyed the room. “It looks like the tables are filling up. Shall we find our spot?”
She nodded, and without asking, he stepped behind her to wheel her to where they were going. Richard selected a location near the front of the room where Gillian was already in conversation with Alastair Fortescue.
Gillian’s hands danced with the same excitement which lit up her face. “I’ve always wanted to go to England. I would see a play at the Globe Theater. I would go to Bath, see Stonehenge, and eat fish and chips.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Alastair had an amused and relaxed smile playing on his features. “Those are the tourist things,” he said, his accent becoming more pronounced as they spoke. “If you really want to learn more about England, I’d find a local who had some free time on their hands and ask them to show me what England’s really about.”
“Someone like you?”
Gillian blushed at the suggestion though the words had come out of her mouth, and Alastair couldn’t help but nod. “If I were there at the same time, I’d be happy to be your tour guide.”
Cindy couldn’t believe her ears. Was Alastair Fortescue flirting? With Gillian? The man had been like an iceberg, alone and frigid, for most of his stay. Maybe Gillian and Richard hadn’t been wrong that there was a side to the man Cindy hadn’t seen.
Richard chuckled beside her, and she realized she’d been caught in her observations. “I told you, you didn’t have to worry.”
His voice was so low that she was the only one who could hear him, but she still wasn’t able to respond to his comment. She was too shocked to do much more than nod in a daze.
“Oh, Cindy!” Gillian sounded like she’d just noticed the two had joined the table. “Alastair was just telling me that they’re saving the announcement about who’s leading Fortescue Publishing until after dinner!”
Cindy grimaced. “That’s going to be hanging over a lot of people’s heads all night.”
Richard nodded. “When Alastair and I talked about it, we realized that it would make some people nervous for the whole event, but we thought it was better than to force people to have public reactions when they got all dressed up for a night out.”
Cindy hesitated before she responded. “I guess it’s a lose-lose situation,” she admitted.
She saw the begrudging respect in Alastair Fortescue’s eyes as she finished. Her heart swelled in pride. Maybe Richard thought she had nothing to worry about, but it was nice to have some evidence outside of his word that they were starting to warm up to one another.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Margaret approach their table, and Cindy stiffened. Richard must have noticed the action because he looked over to where she was looking.
“Cindy!”
Cindy managed a thin smile as Margaret approached the table dressed in a long, white sleeveless gown. Her diamond earrings sparkled through her straight, shoulder-length, black-brown hair, reflecting only a portion of the light which her bracelet and necklace reflected.
“I heard about your accident last night,” she said, schooling her features into some approximation of sympathy. “Are you all right?”
Cindy nodded once, grateful once again for the platform on the wheelchair which elevated her foot. With the wheelchair’s elevation, she wouldn’t have to take a seat away from one of the employees.
Margaret’s smile belied how pleased she was with her own thoughtfulness at assigning the task to Cindy.“At least now, Richard has an office to use when he is with us. The break room isn’t nearly as soundproof as it appears.”
Ice ran through Cindy’s veins. How long would it be until she could be free of this particular strand of torture?
She felt a hand reach for hers, and as she looked up, she saw Richard’s warm, supportive smile.
The look on Alastair’s face was calm but clearly displeased. “Richard won’t need an office. I told you that already, Margaret.”
Cindy turned a shocked look over to the older man.
Margaret’s face flushed with crimson. “Oh. I must have misunderstood.”
Margaret didn’t wait for more discussion before she hurried away from the table.
Cindy blinked at Gillian, Alastair, and Richard. “What just happened?”
“I think that was Margaret Stone’s version of an apology,” Gillian said with an awed half-smile.
Cindy shuddered. “Well, it was weird. Maybe I should be happy about it, but it just feels—”
“Weird.” Gillian nodded.
Richard took a sip of water as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Sometimes, it takes a little nudge to help people see their shortcomings.”
Gillian turned to Alastair and leaned in close. “Others need a shove off a cliff.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lionel Humphreys tapped the microphone at the front of the room, and the chatter started to die down.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin the part of the evening which I talked about almost a week ago. We are going to begin sharing with you the plans which Mr. Alastair Fortescue III has begun making for our publishing family.”
There was a smattering of polite applause as the wait staff quietly cleared the tables of the traditional Christmas ham dinner which they had enjoyed.
“As you are no doubt aware, Fortescue Publishing has been a family business, and it is a pleasure to see where this next generation of Fortescues will take us. It is, however, our greatest pleasure to have Alastair Fortescue the II here to introduce his son, and to officially grant his stamp of approval for the exciting changes he no doubt has in store. So, help me welcome Al up to the stage.”
As the crowd applauded, Cindy was shocked to see the older man, also in a wheelchair so that he wouldn’t overexert himself after his heart attack, brought to the front.
She leaned over to Richard. “Did
you know about this?”
He nodded once. “What do you think I was arranging all day?”
That made sense, she thought to herself as she faced forward again. Alastair Fortescue’s personal assistant would certainly be the one to arrange things for the former president of Fortescue Publishing. It’s what Cindy would have been required to do if Margaret had been the person in charge of this function.
The silver-haired man stood, his thin frame shaking with the effort as he leaned against the podium which the hotel had provided for their use. Though his skin hung gaunt on his frame, his smile was bright.
Al looked nothing like his son, and it irritated something in the back of Cindy’s mind. Alastair’s arms were sculpted as if he regularly weight trained. Al’s arms and legs were almost spindly. Even their smiles were mismatched with Al’s smile bright and personable while Alastair’s was aloof and uptight.
In fact, she would have put money down that Richard was more likely Al’s son than Alastair.
Before she had a chance to even scold her thoughts into silence, old Mr. Fortescue spoke.
“Ladies and gentlemen, for nearly all of my life I have attended this staff Christmas party. First, as a guest of my father who partnered with his father to start Fortescue Publishing when I was only five years old. After he retired, I have attended this event as the President of Fortescue Publishing.”
His voice rattled as if he had a deep cough rumbling inside him.
Cindy’s heart ached for the poor man.
Al Fortescue wasn’t as well as he wanted them to think he was. The sight of him reminded her of her father at the end of a chemotherapy session. Still, it was probably best to have the previous President of Fortescue Publishing present to endorse the changes which would be announced tonight.
She sneaked a glance over at the man who sat beside Gillian as they watched the speech unfold, surprised to find a stony look of near indifference on the man’s face. Was this show of support more of a public attempt at a seamless transition than a sincere stamp of approval?
“I hope and pray that next year I will attend as the guest of my son.”
Al Fortescue turned a smile toward their table, but something was wrong. The line of his sight didn’t seem to point toward Gillian and Alastair. His eyes were focused more on Richard.
Cindy’s brow furrowed.
Maybe in trying to appear healthier than he really was, he’d opted not to wear glasses, but that didn’t make sense. Other than Richard and Alastair’s similar builds and similar heights, the two men looked almost nothing alike.
As Cindy’s vision came to Richard, she noticed that his ears were turning pink the way they did when he was flustered or embarrassed.
With a surprisingly strong voice and a broad grin, Al Fortescue waved toward their table. “Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce you to my son, Alastair Richard Fortescue III.”
There was a smattering of applause as Richard pushed his chair out from beside her and stood.
Cindy’s heart stopped. Alastair Richard? Her Richard?
He looked down at her for a moment and offered her an apologetic smile as he stepped toward the stage.
Gasps sounded around the room. She wasn’t the only one who was completely astounded by this news.
Richard. Richard?
She looked over at the man she thought was Alastair Fortesue only to see him leaning over and whispering to Gillian who wore an equally shocked look on her face. After a moment, she nodded slowly. Then, with only a moment’s hesitation, he reached over and took her hand in his.
She smiled warmly at him as she squeezed his hand in her own.
Richard embraced his father with a warm smile before he helped the older man back to his wheelchair.
Richard turned back to the crowd and adjusted the microphone to his height. “Ladies and gentlemen, over the last few days, you have welcomed me into your workplace with absolutely no idea that I was the man who would be making the very decisions which made you so anxious.”
A nervous chuckle made its way through the crowd, but Cindy just stared. Richard Prince wasn’t Richard Prince. Richard Prince was Alastair Fortescue.
The room spun though she wasn’t sure if it was the shock or the myriad thoughts swirling around her brain.
Richard stole a look over at Cindy, his green eyes still attempting to transmit some regret or apology. “When my father admitted to me a few weeks ago that he was going to be turning the company over to me, I knew that I had a heavy responsibility on my shoulders. He regretted that he had been so far removed from the day-to-day operations of his company, and he encouraged me to find a way to be viewed first as a real person, not just as an executive.”
In that way, he had succeeded, Cindy admitted to herself as she looked away from him. He hadn’t come across as an executive.
Her head ached as her brain tried to piece together her old reality and the new one. It would take some time to think about this, to find out just what it all meant.
“I asked the head of security from the tech company I run—and one of my good friends—Peter Wellington to come and pretend to be me for a few days so I could really get a good look at the lay of the land.”
Richard’s gaze turned away from Cindy and back to the majority of the crowd.
“He was unconvinced that this was the best course of action, but I managed to convince him to come along anyway.”
Richard swallowed audibly before he spoke again. “I want to apologize to each and every single one of you for the deception. I had no idea when I started on this path just how closely I would work with you.”
She could feel his eyes on her even though her gaze had fallen to her hands in her lap. She couldn’t bear to look up. Her face was flushed and hot, and she felt as though if she were to look up every pair of eyes would be on her.
It was ridiculously self-centered, she knew, but it was a hard feeling to shake.
Richard Prince was Alastair Fortescue in disguise.
Looking back on it, she should have seen all the signs: how much more interested Richard was in the business than his friend Peter, how he had nearly slipped and said “my” instead of Mr. Fortescue, how he had kept telling her that she didn’t need to worry about Mr. Fortescue’s opinion of her, his family’s history of heart disease, that his father had been well-acquainted with the company, that he was angry about her suggestion to have Charlotte LaRoche be the next president because of an affair he suspected his father had had at one time with a coworker.
Richard’s voice was soft with emotion. “I don’t know if it will give you any comfort, but it took every ounce of self-control I had not to reveal myself on more than one occasion.”
Cindy flicked a tear out of the corner of her eye, a sense of betrayal at how her tears revealed her hurt and anger.
Richard moved on to something about the new ideas which he thought would completely revolutionize the company’s image and purpose, but Cindy’s head still spun with the news. The personal assistant with whom she’d been whispering over the last few days was the new leader of the company.
She had to get out of here. She had to clear her head. She couldn’t stay.
She spied an exit only a few feet away out to the other side of the ballroom from the lobby. Noting that it wasn’t an emergency exit, she leaned over to Gillian. “I have to go.”
Peter, whom she had once thought was the heir to the Fortescue fortune, merely nodded in understanding as he stood and helped her from the table.
Alastair Richard Fortescue III didn’t even hesitate in his speech.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Carol Ash knocked on Cindy’s childhood bedroom door before she pushed her way into the room without invitation. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you doing today?”
Cindy’s eyes were red and puffy after crying in her mother’s arms for nearly an hour last night. Today, however, she shrugged. “Numb. Empty.”
Carol sat on the bed beside her and tenderly patted
her leg. “I’m so sorry.”
Cindy shrugged as she sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Thanks for paying the cab fare. I wasn’t thinking. I just had to get out of there.”
Her mother just nodded. “I know that the office is typically closed for the holidays, and it’s December 24th. Are you planning on going back any time soon?”
Cindy swallowed, remembering the office Richard now had in the building where she worked. She shook her head. “I can’t go back there. I can’t face him.”
Tears threatened to fall again.
She squeezed a pillow to her chest as hurt and anger crashed over her again. In their wake ebbed a sense of doubt and concern. “Am I being ridiculous? I mean, he lied to me. He purposely deceived me. Am I supposed to let that go?”
Carol’s eyes clouded with uncertainty. “I can understand why you feel hurt. Given how much you and Richard went through, it would be easy to think you knew him quite well.”
Her mother’s thought seemed to hang in the air, an implication that Cindy hadn’t known Richard as well as she’d imagined.
Carol managed a thin smile and patted Cindy’s knee. “Maybe a couple of days to sort out your feelings is just what the doctor ordered.”
Cindy swallowed, but the lump in her throat didn’t budge.
“I’ll be okay,” she promised as she responded to the concern in her mother’s face. “I just need some space.”
Carol nodded and stood. “Well, I didn’t just come to see how you’re doing this morning. I wanted to find out what you want for breakfast.”
Cindy shook her head and slid back down so that she was lying down on the bed. “I’m not hungry.”
Her thoughts turned back to the morning when Richard had found himself waking in her apartment. He would have fried an egg or two if he’d been given even the slightest indication that he was welcome. She felt sure of that.
A Little Christmas Pretense Page 11
