by M. Ullrich
“Good morning, Catherine,” Mr. Adamson said from the head of the table. He nodded subtly toward the seat to his right, but Richard blocked her way.
“Catherine.” He spoke her name through a sideways smile. “You look nice this morning.” Catherine rolled her eyes. Superficial compliments never meant much to her, and her choice of worn jeans and white wool sweater were hardly worthy of praise.
“Thank you.” She tried to sidestep around Richard, but he spoke again.
“Did you get my message?”
“I did.” Catherine pushed a handful of her curls to one side before scratching the back of her neck. She didn’t want to have this conversation in the workplace, but it seemed like this was exactly where Richard preferred to talk about personal matters. “Look, Richard, I—”
“Okay everybody, let’s get this show on the road. My brother-in-law is in town, and Saturday is for poker, so let’s get this over with.” Phillip Stevens sat opposite Mr. Adamson. Anthony Marcati was tapping his pencil against the tabletop to his right.
“We’ll talk later.” Catherine dismissed Richard and sat beside Mr. Adamson.
“Everything all right with the new hire?” he asked. If Catherine had been surprised by anything she had learned about Mr. Adamson over the years, it was how he loved being included in office gossip.
“Everything’s fine,” Catherine replied with a reassuring smile. “What’s the emergency?” She opened her briefcase to pull out a worn leather portfolio. It was the same ritual she followed at every meeting. She opened it up to a fresh sheet of yellow lined paper and placed her favorite pen at the center of the page.
“A friend of mine called me out of the blue last night. He owns a large publishing company here in Manhattan, and he’s in trouble. He’s recently discovered…” The sound of the boardroom door opening didn’t distract Catherine from her boss, but Mr. Adamson turned his attention to the latest arrival. “You know what? I think the company’s senior editor and production manager would tell the story better than I.” Walter Adamson stood slightly. He motioned to the person standing just within the room.
“Why didn’t he come by him—” Catherine looked at the new arrival, and she froze when her eyes locked with too-familiar dark ones. “—self.”
“Everyone, this is—”
“Linda.” Catherine said her name before Walter, and he looked down at her curiously before finishing the announcement.
“Linda Nguyen.”
An anxious buzz filled Catherine’s ears as each staff member shook Linda’s hand. When it came to her turn, Catherine remained seated and stared up at the only woman who could turn her back into the powerless young adult she once was.
“Nice to see you again, Cat.”
Chapter Eighteen
Catherine had never really been a religious person, but right now she was praying to every recognized higher power that Linda would never stop talking. If she continued talking, Catherine wouldn’t have to face the feelings she had buried many years ago. She stopped taking notes long enough to look up at Linda, and her chest clenched. Feelings she thought she’d buried many years ago.
Linda was prim and proper and so intimidating that she often came across as cold. But as she stood before the small group in a tight black dress, Catherine remembered just how warm Linda could truly be. When she couldn’t listen to Linda’s smooth voice without forgetting what she sounded like in the bedroom, Catherine looked out the window at the gray sky and then tried to read her coworker’s faces one at a time. The scene was so familiar: Catherine fidgeting in her seat as Linda addressed a room full of her peers. A secret undercurrent passed between them. Catherine’s stomach twisted with the same tension she always felt in Linda’s presence. Catherine sat back and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
“Are you okay, Catherine?” Mr. Adamson leaned in and whispered. His aftershave seemed overwhelming to her that morning.
“I’m fine, just a late night. Excuse me.” Catherine stood abruptly and rushed into the bathroom. The sound of the door shutting echoed behind her. Catherine took heaving breaths and paced the cool, white room.
“Get it together!” She berated herself aloud. “You’re a professional, for Christ’s sake!” She rushed over to the sink and filled her palms with cold water, splashing it over her pale face. She stood back and looked at her reflection. Water droplets fell from her chin and nose on to the countertop. Catherine’s eyes were red but clear. She blinked the water from her lashes and reached for a paper towel. After drying her face, Catherine took one last breath and carried herself back to the boardroom on wobbly legs. She squared her shoulders with feigned confidence before she swung the large door open. Everyone’s eyes turned to her.
“Sorry.” Catherine made her way back to her seat. She could feel Linda’s gaze follow her. She wondered how Linda remained so cool, so calm, and so collected. Then she remembered how nothing ever seemed to bother her. Even when they were a year into a hushed romance that could have cost Linda her job, she always remained so laid back. It was a quality Catherine envied, especially in that moment.
“So, in retrospect, we should have seen this loss a long time ago, but we really thought our accountant was trustworthy. We now see the fault in that and are hoping it’s not too late, which is why I’m here.” Linda summarized her presentation and took a seat. “Any questions?”
For the second time within minutes, all eyes were on Catherine. The team had come to expect Catherine to take point at every meeting, because she always had. She was the youngest and the most eager member. Catherine shook her head and remained silent.
“Really, Cat, no questions?” Linda scoffed playfully.
“It’s Catherine,” she nearly barked back. Linda was no longer privy to that nickname, nor was she allowed to speak to Catherine like she still knew her. The four men around the table looked from one to the other curiously, and Catherine’s cheeks colored. Catherine wasn’t comfortable that the room’s attention was starting to shift from business to her personal life. “I have all the information I need right here.” She tapped her index finger on the surface of a full note page.
Mr. Adamson spoke up. “I think we’ll be able to help. I owe it to Roger to try at least. He published my niece last year, you know?”
“I heard.” Linda bowed slightly and licked her lips. “Melanie Crowell, right? I loved her book, I hope she writes a follow-up soon.”
“She’s working on it right now, as a matter of fact.”
“I can’t wait.” Linda batted her long lashes, and Catherine’s face softened against her will.
“Okay, I think we have all the information we need.” Catherine closed her portfolio and put an end to the charming, gut-wrenching exchange she was being forced to witness.
“We’ll get started Monday morning, but I won’t be angry if any of you start brainstorming today.” Anthony, Philip, and Richard were quick to leave and start their Saturday afternoon while Walter Adamson stood and started to make his way over to Linda. Catherine stopped him.
“Mr. Adamson, this seems like a pretty straightforward case. Since my hands are a little full at the moment, I think it would be best for Antho—”
“I’m going to stop you right there, Catherine. Roger is a very good friend of mine, and like any friend, I’d want my best person helping him. You’re my best person.”
“Thank you, sir, but—”
“You’re heading this operation. If that means you give one of your existing clients to Anthony or Philip for now, so be it. What about that private client? The Howdy Doody one?”
“Cowboy Fran’s?” Catherine swallowed thickly as she thought of Imogene.
“Yeah, that one. It seems like you’re pretty close to finishing up what you had to do there. Make Anthony the lead on that one, and that’ll free up some of your time. You don’t have a choice here, Catherine. This case is your top priority now.” He patted her on the shoulder before he stepped around her to get to Linda.
Catherine sat back and watched their exchange with a look of pained wonderment on her face. This was her reality. It wasn’t some twisted nightmare from which she’d wake. Linda Nguyen was back in her life, and she was just as beautiful as Catherine remembered.
“Catherine, may I have a word? Catherine?”
“What?”
Linda looked at her expectantly. “Can we talk?” Linda stepped over to where Catherine was seated and leaned her hip against the table. She tossed her long black hair over her shoulder. It seemed darker than Catherine recalled. Maybe she was trying to hide some grays. By Catherine’s calculations, Linda would be turning forty-three that November.
“I can’t. I have to be somewhere.” She tossed her leather portfolio and pen into her briefcase and stood. Catherine had forgotten about their height difference until she was forced to look up at Linda. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Please.” Linda wrapped her hand around Catherine’s wrist. When Catherine looked into Linda’s pleading eyes, her determination waned and her tense stance sagged.
“Fine.” Catherine shrugged away from the touch and tensed her jaw. “Talk.” It had been eight years, but the anger still burned anew.
“Not here. Let me take you to lunch?”
“I’d rather not.”
“How about brunch? I know how much you used to love brunch.”
“Did you know I worked here?” Catherine inquired suddenly. She’d wondered that when she saw her in the meeting. Before she spent any time with her ex, whether for work or not, she needed to know the truth.
“What?” Linda stepped back. Catherine thought she seemed offended. Good.
“Did you know I worked here? Is that why you chose this firm?” Catherine’s tone was accusatory and her voice higher than necessary, but she couldn’t control herself.
“Roger Walton turned to his friend, Walter Adamson, for help. I had nothing to do with the choice of what firm we went with. I thought I covered all of this earlier, or were you not paying attention?”
“I heard every word.”
“Then why are you questioning me now?”
“Because I don’t know what to believe anymore!” Catherine shouted the sentiment for the second time within twenty-four hours. She heard a gentle knock at the door and knew they were being listened to. She turned back to Linda and spoke quietly between clenched teeth. “There’s a place down the street. I can at least get a drink.”
“It’s barely noon.”
Catherine chose to ignore her observation as she gathered her belongings.
As they exited the boardroom door, Catherine noticed Philip standing suspiciously against the wall beside the door. If anyone hung around to eavesdrop on her and Linda’s conversation, she thought for sure it’d be Anthony.
“Poker starting late today, Philip?”
“Yeah, I uh…” He started to tug at the collar of his long sleeved polo. “I was just brainstorming a few ideas for Ms. Nguyen like Walter asked.”
“Down here?” Catherine asked. “Your office is upstairs.”
“Kind of an odd place for brainstorming, don’t you think?” Linda giggled, and Philip’s face reddened.
“You can’t predict when ideas will come to you!”
“I really look forward to hearing those ideas on Monday, don’t you, Ms. Nguyen?” The name felt odd on Catherine’s tongue after all this time, but she still smiled, poking fun at her irritating coworker.
“I certainly do,” Linda agreed enthusiastically. “See you Monday, Mr. Stevens.” Linda turned toward the elevators, and Catherine was quick to follow after speaking a short good-bye. “Is he always like that?”
“Yes. He’s always looking for something to hold against me,” Catherine admitted as the elevator doors opened. They stepped on together and Catherine pressed the button for the ground level.
“He’s just intimidated by your success.”
Catherine narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about my success?” The question made Linda blush, and Catherine nearly stumbled when the elevator came to a halt.
“You work for Marcati and Stevens, of course you’re successful.” Catherine recognized the sound of Linda cracking the middle knuckle of her ring finger. It was one of her ex-lover’s more obvious tells. “I have to grab my coat from my car if we’re walking, or I can drive if you prefer,” Linda said.
“What else do you know about me?” They stepped out of the building, and Catherine tightened her grip around the handle of her briefcase as a frigid wind whipped around the corner. A few strands of her curly hair covered her face. They rushed toward a row of cars parked in front of the building.
“This is me.” Linda unlocked a cherry red sports car. After they both climbed in and slammed their doors, Catherine took a moment to breathe while Linda started the ignition and turned up the heat. An eerie silence fell over the car. Catherine jumped when Linda spoke again. “I’ve looked you up a few times over the years.” Her voice was so fragile, Catherine could barely hear her words.
“Why?” Catherine asked in amazement.
“Professional curiosity? I like to know how my students fare in the real world.” Linda shrugged while her eyes remained to the front. “At least that’s what I told myself the first couple of times.” She turned and looked at Catherine then, her dark, gorgeous almond eyes deeper than ever and her smile more radiant. “I just needed to know how you were doing.”
“You could’ve called.”
“No, I couldn’t. We both know you didn’t want to hear from me.” The silence was back, but this time it was heavy with latent sadness. Something dawned on Catherine.
“But you said you didn’t know I worked here.”
“No. I said I didn’t pick the firm, which is true. But I may have been an eager volunteer to come and do the face-to-face work.” When Linda smiled, every tooth seemed to be on display. “It was an opportunity to see you again with no expectations.”
“And under false pretenses,” Catherine pointed out. She rubbed at her temples, trying to soothe the dull ache that had started there.
“It wasn’t the most honest of moves, but I wanted to see you.”
“You got exactly what you wanted, and you probably got a good laugh at my reaction when I saw you walk in, too.” Though she tried to keep her tone light, the bitterness started to surface.
“I was actually quite speechless when I saw you.” That was not the response Catherine expected. “Time has been very good to you, Catherine. You look wonderful. I was hoping we could talk. I’d like to apologize for the way things ended between us and clear the air, so to speak. I never had the chance to explain myself. There’s so much that was left unsaid.”
“You chose your job over me, what’s to explain?”
“Let me take you to lunch, and I’ll tell you.”
“I—” She pulled out her buzzing phone, slid her thumb along the glass, and read Imogene’s message: I miss you already.
Catherine frowned at the overwhelming guilt she felt at reading those four little words. She had barely thought of Imogene since slipping from her bed earlier that morning. She knew she should reply. It was the right thing to do, but she had no idea what to say. She sighed deeply.
“Do you have to take that?”
“No.” Catherine pressed a button, and her screen went black. “Let’s go.” She sat back and fastened her seat belt. Catherine didn’t look at the road ahead or at the driver, and she made sure to keep from looking at her own troubled reflection.
Chapter Nineteen
Imogene absentmindedly tapped the tip of her fingernail against her teacup. The sound annoyed Vixen, who left the kitchen with a huff and found quiet shelter beneath the couch. Imogene was trying in vain to plan her day. It was barely after noon, and she was still in her robe, fiddling with the remnants of her late breakfast. She had started to change twice but decided against it because Catherine might come back soon. Imogene looked at her phone. She had sent that text a
full half hour ago and had agonized over sending it for close to an hour before. The words were light and playful, but also true.
Imogene missed Catherine only a couple hours after her departure. At first she was unsure how to act after such a sudden shift in their relationship, then Imogene realized the shift wasn’t so sudden. Nor was it one-sided. They’d been flirting since Alice’s birthday party. They had been out several times, each outing feeling more like a date than the last. Finally, they fell into bed together. If anything, it was an average progression. Imogene shivered as she thought of the previous night. She checked her phone one more time. No messages. Not even from Sophia, but that wasn’t strange. She knew how much Imogene enjoyed sleeping in after a night out. Imogene stood and stretched before clearing the table of the few dishes she used.
During the monotonous task of cleaning, she kept thinking about Catherine’s body, her hands, and her voice. Imogene remembered how Catherine had touched her and worked her body in a way she had never experienced before. By the time she’d finished cleaning her small kitchen, Imogene’s face was flushed. “Bath,” she said aloud and walked to her small bathroom.
Imogene stared at her reflection as the tub filled with steaming water. Bubbles collected densely beneath the steady stream. She could have sworn she had what the magazines called a “post-coital glow.” That’s positively ridiculous, she thought, it’s called sweat and exertion! But she understood it now. She used a wipe to remove what was left of her eye makeup and took off her robe.
She dipped one toe, followed by her foot, and finally her whole calf into the water. Imogene’s whole body pebbled with goose bumps as she lowered herself into the bath. The heat was bearable but still caused her breath to hitch. Her abdominal muscles contracted from the combination of pleasure and pain. As she moved her hands up her smooth thighs, the currents left by her fingertips’ wake ghosted along the sensitive skin of her sex. Imogene sucked in a breath and replayed every one of Catherine’s calculated ministrations.
