"We won't wait for an intern," I said. “The auction today includes both books and manuscripts; we all know this is one that tends to attract large crowds of speculative buyers. Adam, how many registered bidders do we have for today?”
“Nearly 150, with almost 20 more registered to bid over the phone.”
“Good. The division for expert-“
"I'm sorry I'm late! So sorry." Ada burst through the door, her golden hair catching the light. She was flushed and with a sickeningly cute movement, she reached up to tuck a stray lock behind her ear.
“I got caught in the elevator with the division head for contemporary art. Couldn’t get away, terribly-“
“Sit down,” I told her. “Don’t be late again.”
She fell quiet and shot me an irritated glare. I almost felt a twinge of guilt for my harsh tone, but reminded myself of her own usually acidic rhetoric. Ada took a seat next to Sarah, and I saw the older woman lean in and whisper something in her ear. Adam wasn’t just smitten with her, but Sarah too?
Couldn’t anyone be on my team?
“We’ve held many of these auctions before, and this one is no different. There’s a first edition of Jane Eyre’s selling today, and they’re very rare. It will be the last piece we sell today. You all know your roles.”
“What’s mine?” Ada asked.
“You’ll help Michaela in anything she needs, in organizing the contact with the division for Books and Manuscripts.”
Michaela smiled, but Ada didn’t return it. I shook my head. Would it kill the girl to show some manners? She had been more than able to with Charles only a couple of days prior. The memory was unsettling. She had known more than I had expected.
And when she interacted with him… It had been a different person I saw, one that had never been around me before. Kind, and almost… vulnerable. Though that was a word I had never before associated with the Hathaway’s.
I shook the thought away. I knew exactly who Ada Hathaway was, and wouldn’t be fooled by bright smiles and twinkling eyes.
7
Ada
Dad called after lunch. I stepped out of the office and onto the small terrace facing the interior courtyard. It was cold outside and I should have brought a coat, but I was fairly sure the conversation wouldn't last long enough for me to need it.
“How’s the job?”
This was the first time he’s checked in since I began. “It’s good,” I told him. “Interesting. We have a Book and Manuscript auction for today.”
“Yes, I saw,” he said. Of course. He probably checked Hathaway’s website almost daily, a habit he was unlikely ever to lose. “How’s Grant as a boss?”
Superior, I wanted to reply. Infuriating. Occasionally smug. Surprisingly competent.
“Good,” I said. “He’s good.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“It’s odd being back here. It’s been a long time since-“
“Yes, it certainly has.” Dad clears his throat again. “Well, it’s good to hear that you’re alright. I’ll probably be in town again this weekend. I’ll call you for dinner.”
“Goodbye, then.”
He’d already hung up. Since Max, he lived most of the time in the house in the Hamptons. It was our old Nana's house, but now he used it as his home base. Our family apartment on Park Avenue stood empty. I knew both of us had the keys to it, but there was too much pain in being there. Empty rooms for people who are no longer here. We should have sold Mom's piano right away, I thought. And Max's collection of baseball cards. Maybe then we would have stood a chance.
But I knew it wasn’t things but rather memories that haunted that place.
Michaela grabbed a hold of me when I returned to the office. “Come with me,” she said cheerily. “Let’s go through the chain of events for today.”
She was painstakingly meticulous on the time schedule of the auction, and all the goods that need to arrive.
“Ensure that this list makes it to the ground team by two o’clock. They’ll need it to set up the order of the goods displayed. Do you have any questions?”
I got the vague feeling that I was back in school somehow, but I do my best to think. “What auctioneer are we using today?”
“Roderick.”
“When will Grant arrive?”
She looked displeased at my question. “When he wishes too.”
Of course. The comings and goings of such a superior being clearly defy time and space. Everyone's hero worship of him is understandable - I could recognize the expansive growth Hathaway's had undergone under his leadership - but it remained just as tiring.
“I want you to go speak to the Book and Manuscript specialists. Tell them we’re not moving the Jane Eyre manuscript - it’s not to be displayed today. It’s a blind bid.”
"Why not?" I frown. The rest of the artifacts are all displayed, per usual. Hathaway's prides itself on the lighting and presentation of each good sold whenever it hosts a physical auction. It's drilled into me, into my very bones.
“The owners haven’t given permission for it to be moved, and it’s highly sensitive. This is all routine, really, Ada.”
She ran off to handle phone calls, and neither Sarah nor Adam were in the office. So I did what I was told, though the specialists down at Book and Manuscript are surprised at my demand. But since I came from Executive, they nodded and shrugged.
Linda spent the afternoon teaching me how to handle Grant’s calendar and the company email, sorting through the flood of emails the company gets each day, and allocating them to the right person.
So when I hurried down to the auction floor it had already begun, a flurry of activity and raised paddles. I saw Grant and Adam in the wings, watching.
“CNN is here,” Adam whispered to me. “And several of the key bidders represent both public and private library collections across the world.”
“Wow.”
Grant looked up from his phone. “All the pieces are accounted for in the wings and ready for display?”
“Yes, except the last one.”
His eyes narrow suddenly, razor-sharp focus as they snap to mine. “Except the last one?”
"Yes. It's still in the Books and Manuscript Department."
“So the first edition Jane Eyre isn’t here?” Grant spoke the words slowly, as if he’s trying very hard not to explode. “It’s still in preservation.”
I nodded, afraid of him for the first time. “That’s right.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep, heavy breath. I hurried to explain myself, and the decision I thought was correct. "Because it's a highly sensitive edition, not to be moved without the owner's permission?"
“The owners are selling with us,” Grant spoke through gritted teeth. “That means they are trusting us with the guard, keep and preservation of it. They have already given implicit permission when they listed with us.”
"Oh." Michaela had been wrong, then. Entirely. Not for the first time, I wondered if she was trying to sabotage me.
“Ada. I understand that this means little to you. I know you’d rather be in St. Tropez, or at Saks Fifth Avenue. But while you are here, under my command, you will not deliberately sabotage my company. You may be useless, but try not to be downright harmful.”
I swallowed. My eyes were burning, and I could feel it, the hot rush of shame and anger. This conversation needed to end, now, or I would do something completely unforgivable and mortifying like cry in front of Grant.
So I nodded and tried to look dismissive, because I didn't trust my voice enough to speak.
Grant looked away from me with a tired sigh. "I suppose I'll just have to try to sell these unseen."
"Can I help?" I asked, because despite what he might think, I don't want to be a liability. There's a part of me that's always wanted to do the right thing, to be of use, and that little girl is heartbroken.
Grant shook his head and turned. "No. You've done enough. I need to find Michaela."
; I didn't stay to watch the auction. I returned to the executive floor, finding it deserted, with only Linda remaining. She's on the phone, so I sat down at my desk and stared blankly at the screen.
I'd learned three things today.
1. Michaela disliked me and would try to sabotage my internship at Hathaway’s.
2. I might have taken this job as a way to ensure access to my trust fund and to annoy Grant, but I genuinely care for it now. I want to do a good job.
3. Grant doesn’t believe me particularly capable - and that actually bothers me.
And of the three it’s the last one that surprises me the most.
8
Grant
The day passed without issue, with the exception of a knock on my door.
“Hi Linda,” I said when she stepped inside. “What’s up?”
She took a seat in the chair opposite me, entirely devoid of her usual authoritative manner. This wasn’t like her.
“Is something wrong?”
“You have always been a fair boss, and a good one.”
I was instantly put on edge, and leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “But?”
“It’s about Miss. Hathaway, sir.”
“What about her?”
"She's hard-working and very clever. And I'd hate for a few bad days to make you think anything differently."
Of course. Ada had champions in every corner, beloved immediately because of her smiles and her last name. Why should I have assumed any of these people would show me more loyalty than her?
“She has to prove her worth, same as anyone else in this company.”
“I know that, sir. And being late yesterday was on her - even if it was a small lapse, and one we all do from time to time. But I digress,” she said, noting the expression on my face. “My concern is rather the auction yesterday.”
Ah, how could I forget. When Ada had somehow, brainlessly, decided not to ensure the first edition manuscript made it to the auction floor. “I was informed by Michaela that it was the one thing Ada was put in charge of. It’s a mistake, and one she won’t do again if she wants to stay here.”
“But that’s the thing, sir. I don’t want to go behind anyone’s back, but my loyalty is to you and to the company. And to the truth.”
“What is it, Linda?”
“I overheard Michaela telling Ada to go down to the Books and Manuscript division and tell them not to include the first edition Jane Eyre in the transfer. It was a direct order. Ada even questioned it.”
“That can’t be true.”
Linda looked pensive, her hand gripping the side of her chair. She had been here nearly forty years and there was no one with more integrity. If she said it, it had to be true - but why? And for what reason?
“I don’t think Michaela has taken kindly to Ada’s presence on the team.”
“What makes you say that?”
"Call it intuition. And while I might be out of bounds on this, sir, has Michaela ever indicated to you that she is interested? Beyond the strictly professional?"
I blinked at her. The notion felt ludicrous. She was an objectively attractive woman, I supposed, but I would never be intimate or encourage it with anyone on my staff.
“Never,” I replied. But even so, instances flashed in my memory, of her asking if I wanted her to stay late. Of offering to bring me coffee, despite it being decidedly out of bounds for her to do so in her position as division head.
“But why would that make her dislike Ada?”
Linda gave an elegant shrug that somehow spoke legions. “I’m not sure, sir. That would be anyone’s guess.”
And she had already made her guess - it was clear in the silence. But the idea of Ada and me as an item of romance was not only impossible, it was comical. Absolutely not. I was not a man fit for relationships, and God knew she disliked me plenty. Not to mention the implications of such a liaison on Arthur Hathaway and the fallout when it inevitably went south.
Unbidden, the image of her face, beautifully flushed, came to mind when she had arrived late to the meeting. I could see it, her flushed like that for other reasons, stretched out atop the linen sheets of my bed.
Impossible. Oddly alluring. And entirely, entirely inappropriate.
Linda continued to stare at me with a peculiar expression, as if she could see all of this and more.
I shook my head as if to clear it. "Thank you, Linda. You have given me much to think about."
“Will you ensure that Ada isn’t punished further? It was truly not her mistake.”
I gave her a nod. “Leave it up to me.”
How I would go about that discussion I had no idea.
* * *
I had a twenty-minute window after my meeting with the division for British Paintings, so I called Michaela into my office.
She was silent and serious as she walked in, taking a seat opposite me. She’d worked with us for over six months. And now I’d likely have to train someone else. God, I didn’t need this.
“What do you need, sir?”
“I’d like to discuss what happened yesterday, with the Jane Eyre manuscript.”
Michaela nodded. “It’s a pity it was not displayed during the auction. I take part of the blame, of course. I shouldn’t have trusted Ada with something of such consequence.”
"It's lucky we managed to sell it based on the photos you had on your drive."
“I think the new owners will be pleased.”
“And you didn’t give Ada explicit orders to inform the Books and Manuscript department that the first edition not be moved, because it was - and I quote - sensitive?”
Michaela looked shocked. I had to give it to her, the woman knew how to act, at least. “Why would I have done that? Hathaway’s has excellent specialists, of course we could move an item despite its age or fragility.”
“Quite right. Unless you did it so that Ada would look bad.”
Michaela shook her head. “Sir, these are outlandish accusations. Why would I risk my job like that? Did Ada tell you this herself? Don’t believe her lies.”
“Her lies,” I repeated, nodding along as if I was on the same page.
“Yes. She’s been nothing short of a nuisance since she came. Hasn’t proven that she belongs here.”
“Have you given her a chance to prove it?”
Michaela looked taken aback by my change in demeanor. “Yes. But she hasn’t.”
“She’s been here four days,” I said. “And it wasn’t Ada who came to me with this. Someone else overheard you give those specific instructions to her.”
Michaela’s face fell. “That’s not possible.”
“That you were overheard?”
She shook her head. “Sir, I don’t-. It was only to show you what we all already knew - she’s not a good fit for this company.”
"And you took it upon yourself to manipulate events, rather than trust that my judgment would prevail?"
She swallowed. "I made a mistake. I realize that. It won't happen again, sir."
“Quite so, because I want you to pack up your things today and leave Hathaway’s.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve spent years working my way up to this position. I promise it won’t happen again. Grant, please…”
If she was trying to appeal to my emotional nature, she was failing hard. "What you did put the company in jeopardy, and risked an on-going auction. Not only that, but you willingly sabotaged a team member. Both of those things are unforgivable, and I cannot have a member of my staff that I do not trust. I will let you go with a reference - if, and only if, you make it clear to new employers what happened here and that it won't again. But your future at Hathaway's is over."
Michaela left without another word. From the look in her eyes, she was disappointed with me - as if I had been the problem! She packed up her things in silence.
Linda was quiet at her desk. I was glad that Adam, Sarah and Ada were all out of the office at the moment - away on some meeting or anoth
er. It made this a whole lot easier.
Michaela stopped in the corridor, her bag in hand. "Mr. Wood, I can't begin to say how sorry I am. I hope that you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."
God, this woman gave herself too much credit. “You’re forgiven,” I said. “And in a moment, you’ll also be forgotten. If you have any further logistical questions regarding the termination of your contract, feel free to contact HR or Linda. Goodbye.”
The door fell shut behind her, and a second later I heard the chime of the elevator.
"What a mess," I told Linda, because quite frankly, it was. "When did this branch devolve into a kindergarten?"
She patted me on the shoulder, likely the only person who could get away with it. “Now now, dear. You did what was necessary. And there are plenty of talented junior staff who can fill her position.”
I nodded. "I assume there are. Will you tell Ada to come to my office as soon as she can, when she returns?
“Of course.”
I returned to my work but found it nearly impossible to focus. Now I'd have to apologize. To Ada Hathaway. And the worst part was, I felt guilty. The things I had said to her were entirely unprofessional and far harsher than I would have, had I not been so angry. Had it not been her there to break the news to me. There was no doubt that I wouldn't have gone off on like that on, say, Adam. I didn’t like the effect she had on me.
A soft knock sounded from my door. "Grant?"
“Come in.”
One might think that it’s difficult for a gorgeous young blonde to look like she wanted to murder you quietly in your sleep, but no. That was exactly what the glare Ada shot me said. And I deserved it.
She sat down before me, looking down at her nails. "I understand if you want to discuss what happened yesterday, but I want you to know that it won't happen again."
“I know it won’t. I’ve fired Michaela.”
Pure satisfaction pulsed through me at the shock on Ada’s face. Whatever she thought I’d say, it wasn’t that.
Look But Don't Touch: Enemies to Lovers Page 4
