by R. E. Laurel
“Belinda, did you hear anything about Neal’s changing names? Now, that would be utterly ridiculous! This department store has been in business since the middle eighteen hundred. This place is historical. It started out as this department store and has been doing quite well. Even during this economic mess we are in.”
Belinda opened her mouth to reply but Maren kept talking.
“How can that be? And besides, wouldn’t I have been told about the possible takeover?” Maren complained as Belinda approached.
“There was a memo stating that we were being taken over by new management. You were off yesterday. Wasn’t there any in your mailbox?”
“I didn’t check it yet.”
“Here, I have a copy in the drawer.” Belinda retrieved the paper, handing it to her.
Maren stared with wide eyes, aghast in disbelief to the memo. It had been a tough eight years, and she worked hard to get to the position she had as head of sales and manager for the Women’s Fashion and Lingerie. Her nose wrinkled with worry when the term, ‘downsizing’ filled her thoughts. Whenever a company did that it more than likely meant they get rid of those who had the higher salary.
Her gaze fell onto the Calligraphy print on the top of the tan parchment paper to the name Neal’s Emporium established eighteen sixty. It was a noted top of the line department store that could put Saks Fifth Avenue to shame. But there it was in black and white.
‘Neal’s is going under new transition. In the coming days, the President will be conducting meetings with employees. There will be possible job changes with the phasing out of certain jobs in the coming weeks and addition of others. Have a Merry Christmas.’
“At least they still have their charming, warped sense of humor,” she grumbled, gaining a chuckle from Belinda.
A sick feeling churned in her stomach, twisting and tugging and pulling the mass into a tight knot until she believed she needed to find solace in a bathroom where she could hurl her anxiety away.
“I can’t believe this. I have given my life to Neal’s,” Maren declared, her eyes again reading the memo.
“It’s dreadful. Simply dreadful,” Belinda added, smiling to a young couple looking at engagement rings.
“It is dreadful, at least to me. This could mean my job.” Maren’s lips formed an ugly grimace at the thought of not knowing whether she will or will not have a job. She hated the limbo of not knowing. Her head turned to the cheerful voices of the many customers.
“Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!”
“Don’t eat too much turkey!”
Maren watched the happy, carefree customers greeting friends and relatives with the salutations. Thanksgiving wasn’t here yet and people were already spouting out joyous holiday greetings. Many were toting arms full of packages. The eight-story building, five of those floors used for salesrooms and the others for office and storage, was always filled with shoppers. Sales were up sixty percent from last quarter. Why would they be selling?
“Well. I guess we have to make the best of it and pray we aren’t losing our jobs,” Maren muttered, handing the memo to Belinda who placed it back into the pocket of her skirt.
“I agree. Are we going to the movies this evening?” Belinda wondered, her hands going to a stack of sweaters to refold for what seemed like the hundredth time in a half an hour.
“Sure.” Maren walked past a rack of returned clothing items to replace their correct sections.
To her surprise, Maren found herself humming along to the Christmas tunes emitting through the speakers placed strategically here and there not to be seen. She worked diligently, returning and straightening items on shelves and racks. Her smile was fresh, lighting up her face as she happily greeted the customers strolling past, each in search of that perfect outfit for a Christmas party or that just perfect gift for that special person.
She worked with such intent that she failed to notice she was being silently watched by Stan Burton, the head honcho of Neal’s Emporium standing with Victor Neal the Sixth the new President. They had been following her throughout her department.
“Stan, who is she?” The rich voice questioned as his friend glanced to a clipboard he was holding.
His eyes vividly followed the tiny woman as she kept busy maintaining the lingerie department. Slowly, they roamed over her lithe figure, down her slender hips and long, shapely legs to the black pumps she wore and up, lingering at her firm breasts, hidden beneath a silky cream camisole top beneath a black short jacket with long sheer sleeves. Ruffles adorned the neckline and front that was closed with one button at her tiny waist. His gaze roamed to rest on her very attractive, round face with a huge smile and deep brown sparkling eyes. His eyes widened, and head tilts off to the one side when she turned away, taking a clipboard with her as she checked prices.
With a pleased grin, he watched the gentle back and forth swaying of her hips she produced with her short steps. He crossed his arms across his chest while shifting his gaze at his best friend and the CEO of this store, Stan Burton.
Stan nodded his head in the direction she disappeared. “That is Maren Wilson. She is head of sales for women’s and lingerie,” Stan answered, his brown gaze glancing to his friend. He pressed his lips together, not missing the long look Victor was giving to Miss Wilson. “Vic?”
“Hmmm, interesting.”
“Interesting as her name or she as a female?”
“Female. Most definitely she is a female.”
Slowly, they turned to walk away. A thoughtful expression crossed his features. His hand rubbed at his squared chin as an idea began to take place.
“Is my name anyplace mentioned on any of the forms sent out as the new owner of Neal’s Emporium?” He wondered, his finger pushing the button on the elevator.
“No, only mine as the Chief Executor of Operations. Why do you ask, I wonder out loud, and I see the familiar look on your face and not caring for it.”
“What look is that?”
Stan’s eyes narrowed as his nostrils of his wide nose flared. “Oh, you know. That little gleam in your eyes. That self-satisfied smirk on your mouth. It means nothing but trouble for whatever female has caught your eyes and especially for me. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you got that look?”
Victor shook his head. “Can’t say that I do since so many have happened.”
“We spent almost a week in a Mexican prison!” Stan reminded shaking his head with disbelief.
“Do you mean to tell me that you are still upset about that?”
“Hell yeah!”
“That happened over three years ago! And haven’t I apologized to you over and over about that? You keep acting as I did it on purpose. Hell, how was I to know that those two ladies at the bar were the Mayor’s daughters.”
Stan released a derisive sound, a lot like a snort.
Victor shot his friend a wry grin. The doors silently opened to permit them to step in. He pushed the button to the fifth floor, the Executive office. The elevator slowly began its ascent. Victor remained thoughtful as Stan was reading over notes attached to the clipboard. The door opened to reveal a turn back in time atmosphere with dark wood trim on everything imaginable. The baseboards to the crown molding and on the many doorways. The cream paint helped to lighten the corridors. Their steps were muffled on the carpet of deep blue as they walked to the office.
Victor opened the door, smiling to the young secretary in the spacious anteroom and not missing the come on big guy invitation in her light brown eyes. That was something he was very much used to. At one time he wouldn’t mind giving her a night of sex but lately, he wasn’t into one-night stands. With a quick nod, they strolled past, entering the very spacious suite of Stan’s and Victor’s offices joined by a wide doorway with pocket doors to close as needed.
“You need to tell her to quit flirting with the boss,” he grumbled to Stan who answered with a snicker.
“Well, at this mom
ent you are known as a transferred employee sent to check out how operations and departments work. She, like the others, have no idea that you are the one who inherited practically all of the chains.”
“It is not professional,” Victor grumbled.
“I agree, and I will let her know with the utmost expeditious manner.”
“See to it.”
It was a spacious corner office with tall tin ceilings. The room was lavishly decorated, mirroring the dark colors of the corridor and the rooms, to accent the original dark mahogany woodwork of the crown ceilings, baseboard, and wainscoting. The enormous center Parisian rug of deep green with blue and green design accented the richness of the room. Four windows spanned each wall of the room reaching from the ceiling to floor in 9 panes over 9 panes glass with curtains also deep green.
Brown leather furniture with mahogany end tables helped to furnish the office to give it a cozy atmosphere. Crystal cut lamps perched on the many end tables gave the room a warm glow. A pair of huge original cut glass crystal gas chandelier with three light fixtures of frosted acid cut bellflower design shades along with three tiers of spear prisms along with many original wall sconces have been upgraded to electricity. The light fixtures which were still throughout the building aided by displaying the elegant opulence of the old structure. Natural light flowed through the windows where the occupant of the office could swivel his chair to watch the traffic below leading to Lake Erie in the not so far distance.
Victor cleared his throat as he took a seat in the plush burgundy leather chair, swiveling it around to face his computer. His long, tanned hands expertly worked the keys as he unlocked and then logged in to proceed to do a profile search. His eyes moved back and forth as he read the screen.
Stan sat in a chair opposite the desk, “I was hoping that you learned a rather valuable lesson regarding those two dark haired beauties in Mexico.”
“I most certainly have. I do a background check on anyone that catches my attention before I decide on whether I will proceed with caution.”
“What? Are you serious that she caught your attention?”
Victor nodded, “Not only that but I need to get acquainted with my employees.”
“Oh no,” Stan groaned, closing his eyes. He could not believe this. He hated to think of the many ladies who fell in love, so they thought, with Victor and had hearts broken. “Is that what you’re doing?”
Victor nodded, reading with interest the personnel file on Miss Maren Wilson.
CHAPTER 3
Stan released a long, weary sigh eyeing Victor with disdain. His sigh filled the air as he plopped the clipboard on the edge of the desk with a loud knock.
“I guess we’re through talking shop for now.”
“Yes, we are.” Victor gruffly answered still reading the screen. He didn’t like being interrupted.
Stan reclined in the wingback chair, stretching his long legs out in front to cross his feet at the ankles. He patiently waited for Victor to finish reading. He thought back to the early years of their friendship beginning as sharing a room in Harvard college. Not knowing the wealth his new friend had, they easily bummed around the campus and during the breaks they went off to the beaches. Over the years, the pretty girls they encountered on their vacations and those in their rooms on campus had changed into exotic, beautiful ladies and they were plentiful during the many wild parties they attended.
Also, there were numerous morning afters, awkward morning afters. The first year they thought it was all fun to wake with strangers. After the second year, it had developed into one too many times. He wondered how often they woke and not remembered much of what happened the night before. Those times left a lot to be desired. More than once were spent waking up with one or two people of the opposite gender in little or no clothing and again no idea, no recollection of the events that transpired the night before. Those were the wild, uninhibited times but one day something happened to change Victor. He wasn’t caring for the partying like he was so accustomed to. Many times, he opted from taking anyone home and if he did spend time with a lady it would be in a hotel room where he could leave during the night.
Day after day, Stan diligently tried to get it out of him, spouting how they were best friends through tumultuous parties and licentious establishments. To his amazement, one-day Victor finally divulged just a tiny bit of information, that he guessed he grew up. Then one day, as they stopped for a visit at one of his childhood homes, this one being the lakefront 1900’s Georgian mansion in the Catskills he figured it out. His parents were acting the same way with late-night parties and binge drinking and Victor didn’t care what he saw. Mostly parents too drunk to even carry on a decent conversation, ignoring him and flying off to where ever the next party would be held.
Stan strained his neck, trying to get a better look at the computer screen. He didn’t miss the complacent grin curling Victor’s lips, causing a slight dimple to form on his clean-shaven, angular cheeks. His blue eyes darted back and forth as he read.
“Well, what’s wrong with her?” Stan hoped since he didn’t want to see her get hurt.
“Not married, never was. A graduate of a local college in marketing so why is she working in a department store instead of running the marketing department? Her parents are from downstate and own family business with a vineyard of modest size.”
“Cool. Free booze,” Stan muttered, getting a scathing look.
“Hey great,” Victor stated.
“What?”
“Her birthday is next month. Almost a Christmas baby.”
Stan grew silent while watching Victor. His gaze changed to concern. “You...aren’t going to break her heart too, are you?”
Victor slowly shifted his gaze from the computer to Stan’s sand brown gaze filled with dislike.
Stan witnessed way too many crying scenes during a so-called breakup. They all had fallen in love with the charming Victor Neal the Sixth. He realized from the beginning of any relationship he entered that he also never intended on falling into that marriage trap. The grin didn’t reach his sky-blue eyes. “I never plan on doing that. It always seems to happen that way. Anyone I did see on numerous occasions I let them know I don’t intend on getting serious.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Stan scoffed with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
Victor turned his chair, his arms resting on the top of his desk, “What’s this? Are you going soft? Stan, are you getting a heart?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
Stan paused, “I guess that I am. Is that a bad thing?”
“Ou. Stan, careful pal or one day you may fall in love.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Stan repeated, his countenance remaining serious.
“Yes.”
Stan’s mouth slightly opened with the blunt, one-word response. A mocking smile formed on his lips. “Whoever does make you fall in love is one hell of a lady.”
Victor released a loud scoffing cough.
“Hearts are made for emotions of love, tenderness, caring, passion, protective, pain, hurt, and Vic, yours is not any the exception to that rule,” Stan knowingly suggested.
“Counselor Burton.” Victor laughed with sarcasm.
“Your lifestyle is probably why you have been in so many unhealthy relationships. Once you talk to someone of knowledgeable education...”
“Hold on. Are you speaking about me going to a shrink?” He interrupted.
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
“Well, in my lifetime I have learned that hearts are also made for distrust, hate, loathing, uncaring and the list goes on,” he coldly countered. Adding with deep cynical laughter with his mirth as the sound rumbled from his mouth. Sobering he added, “Words of wisdom coming from one of the biggest heartbreakers that I know. Stan, you taught me the how’s and whys and whens to get the hell out of any non-desirous, touchy situations.”
Stan shrugged, “That was then. Hell Vic, with my messing around acting like the head of a harem, I don’t even know
whether I met the right woman and let her slip through my arms.”
Victor leaned back in his chair, his folded hands going behind his head to cradle it. He studied Stan as if looking at him for the first time. This Stan acted like the mature men they had become, leaving behind those childish games they often thoughtlessly, played with the feelings of the ladies they met throughout the years and the painful lessons all had learned.
He rocked his chair, “Oh, so now we’re talking affairs? Perhaps I have cut way back on my drinking, but I still like being with the ladies. I’ve seen a bad marriage, hell, grew up in one. Every day it’s a non-existent life of the loving parents. They tolerate one another and that’s it. And it’s all for the children. You know, have to stay together for the sake of the kids. I never realized it until I grew older and saw the coldness they shared in their so-called farce of a loving marriage.”
Stan remained silent as he finally found out a bit of what makes Vic tick the way he does.
“I rarely noticed any love towards their children. In my opinion, them staying together hurt the kids more than helped anything. That’s probably why I and Cass don’t speak. We don’t know how to show any of this love that siblings should. In my home, holidays were only another reason to have a party and to get drunk and make nothing but asinine fools of themselves.”
Stan nodded, “That’s too bad.”
“You bet your ass that’s too bad. I never saw those loving hugs between parents, the joy or happiness when spending time with relatives. So, as I read about family times during the holidays, that’s all it is, a fairy tale. I guess those never really exist. A marriage is more like a business arrangement. A place where two people share vows, that only binds them to one another unless a divorce happens.”
A faint grin curled Stan’s lips. He often heard these tirades from Victor and so was quite familiar with them but never realized the deep, emotional pain he carried with him until now and that was surprising him.
“Come on. Let’s get something to eat. You can study up on Maren later.”
