by Emily Childs
After Holly has endured a monotone speech from Bryce about the fiscal budget and projected expenses, she claps her hands, waking the rest of us up again. “I’m pleased, simply pleased with all the work you’ve put in to really get a new team off on the right track. I’m anxious to see where this leads us, but I can’t imagine better leaders to help us get there.”
My pulse picks up its pace. Is she going to assign us right now?
“One thing I pride Everett on is not running our employees ragged, for creating a safe workplace, an uplifting environment. I want to make sure, if we hire in-house, none of my current department heads become too overwhelmed should they be given a new leadership position.”
I can’t swallow, my throat is too dry. She looked right at me. What’s that look supposed to mean? I’m not overwhelmed. I’m perfectly whelmed, and ready to take on more responsibility.
“Okay, now I’d like to meet with department heads only. Thank you, minions,” she says the same thing she always does at the end of a meeting. Holly silently excuses anyone without a private office from the room.
“Keep it in case,” Laney mutters, sliding her tablet to me as she stands.
I clear my throat, nod a thanks, and school my eyes on the blank screen for now. I’m still trying to figure out if Holly really thinks I’m overwhelmed.
When the assistants and number twos are cleared from the room, Holly sighs and relaxes in her chair. “Let’s get down to it, shall we? I’m not oblivious that all of you would like to be put as heads of these new accounts. Each of you already manage no less than ten employees, adding more is no small thing.”
Bryce raises a finger. “Uh, I never put my name in the pot. Adam is the head of accounting.”
One corner of her mouth curls up. “True, but we’ll need more good finance heads as we expand our own brand, won’t we?”
Bryce smiles and his eyes brighten. “Oh, cool.”
I roll my eyes. He should’ve done his own research before simply assuming executives were handling everything.
“Amelia,” Holly goes on. “I anticipate hiring at least three new marketers, one for research, one for copywriting, and the other for demographics. What do you think?”
Amelia smiles. “Lovely.”
“And you’ve expressed a need for digital marketers. What do you mean? Social media?”
“Basically,” Amelia says. “I’m not too proud to admit, I’m more a traditionalist. These kids coming into the field now are the experts online.”
Holly agrees with a pensive expression. “Then my gut is telling me to have two heads of marketing. What do you think? It’s not a slight to you, not at all.”
“I’m not offended,” Amelia assures her. “I could use the help.”
Holly turns to Oscar. “Can we get a new management position advertised?”
“We’ll get on it,” he says.
Holly grins. “Off topic, but how are the wedding plans? Final stretch now.”
Anytime someone brings up Nicole, Oscar can’t hold back his dumb, lovesick grin. I guess if he’s getting married, then he better grin that way, but I’ve been seeing it for a year now.
“I can’t wait,” he says.
Holly pats his hand. “That’s a good thing.” Adjusting in her seat she trains her eyes on me. “Now, Bastien. You, my young friend, are incredibly impressive.”
So far so good.
“I mean it,” Holly goes on. “You’re thorough, efficient, fair. I have no complaints from your department regarding your leadership.”
Don’t ask Laney Brooks. But then I’m also pleased to know as much as she rolls her eyes at me, clearly, Laney’s never complained.
“But—”
Oh, no.
“I have concerns, Bastien.”
I can feel Oscar staring at me. Amelia and Bryce settle in for the show. I crack two knuckles under the table.
“Concerns?” I ask innocently. “I’d love to discuss any concerns you have and put them at ease. I’d really like to be a part of this expansion.”
“And you’d be marvelous. We all know Howard is more interested in marking off his days until retirement. This would promote you, Bastien. I’d make you an executive; one of the youngest I’ve ever considered, mind you.”
Exactly what I want. She gets me, so why is Holly watching me like I might turn into some creature at the full moon?
“I don’t understand the trouble then,” I say when she doesn’t go on.
Holly sighs, smiles like my mom does when she’s going to give me a life lesson. “I’m concerned because you’re also the employee that clocked the most hours worked last month.”
“Well, I—”
“And the month before.”
“Only because—”
“And for the last five months. To be honest, your hours are exceeding your salary.” Holly leans forward on her elbows. “As executives we already work long hours, Mr. Olsen. But you’re beating even us. What becomes of you if I give you more responsibility?”
Sitting forward, I clasp my hands over the table. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, you’re concerned because I work too hard?”
“Exactly,” Holly says. “Strange as it sounds, take it from me, it is a lonely life when your office sees more of you than anything else. When we began this company, Roger and I nearly forgot each other’s names. It nearly broke us, until we realized, work—it isn’t everything. I’d be honored to see you in an office next to mine, Bastien. But not if it will change you into someone who doesn’t remember his home address.”
I look at Oscar. Is this even okay, what she’s saying? He shrugs and starts writing in his binder. My eyes flick back to Holly who’s still grinning.
“I am not discriminating, Mr. Olsen,” she says as though she’s read my mind. “I have concerns due to temperament, burnout, ambition, character. All qualities I am within my rights to consider.”
“Ms. Everett,” I say, trying my best to be relaxed. “I have a personal life. Oscar can vouch for that.”
“Really? I’ve not seen a weekend where you have not come into the office in at least five weeks. Oscar has worked one Saturday.”
Oscar clears his throat. “Uh, I don’t need to—”
“No, you’re right,” Holly interrupts. “This isn’t about Oscar visiting family, or spending much needed time with his wife-to-be. This is about you, Bastien. I am more impressed with employees who excel in this company while balancing a healthy out of office life, than those who eat, drink, and breathe the workplace. To me, balanced people show me they know how to self-care, know how to be flexible, how to think outside themselves and their own ambitions. Those are the people I want to lead Everett.”
I shift in my seat. “Ms. Everett, maybe we could speak about concerns privately.”
Amelia nods rapidly. “I think personal conversations should kept private, for sure.” Her neck is flushed red, apparently, I’m not the only one embarrassed by this assault on my lifestyle.
She flicks Bryce’s shoulder and he seems thoroughly put out by the idea of leaving. Holly agrees with a nod, and I’m torn when Oscar gathers up his things and follows. Part of me wants him to stay and speak for me, but the other part wonders if he’d make things worse by telling the truth.
“Piper,” Holly says.
Her niece jolts. “What?”
“You may go too.”
“Seriously?” She chomps her gum loudly. “Now? It’s interesting for once.”
“Yes, dear,” Holly says tersely. “I don’t need assisting at the moment.”
Piper frowns and huffs, muttering as she follows the others.
The door clicks and I’m alone with Holly. The woman narrows her eyes, peering into me as if she can read my every thought. I fight to keep eye contact, but I won’t lie, it’s not easy.
“I’m sure you think this strange,” Holly says, lacing her fingers together. “But I assure you, the reason we have such a low employee turnover, Mr. Olsen,
is because of our insistence on self-care, on family first, on a life outside of career. Why do you think we do so many executive activities?”
“I have a life, Ms. Everett,” I say. “I just arranged to visit home this Sunday after the game.”
Holly’s face is unchanged. She’s hardly impressed. “A good start. I must come clean, and admit I thought there was more going on in your personal life, and gave your assistant a heart attack.”
“I don’t—”
“Oh, a simple misunderstanding,” Holly interrupts, laughing and waving my confusion away. “I thought you two were an item the way you were looking at each other. Today marks eleven months since Rog passed. I suppose I’m simply sentimental. But I do admit, I was encouraged by the idea because it let me think you had that balance I’m looking for.”
She thought Laney was dating me? She liked the idea. Now I understand Laney’s expression earlier. Wait, Holly liked the idea. She liked the idea. “We . . . are, actually.” What am I doing?
Holly pauses, a smile plays at her mouth. “Pardon me?”
“It’s still new.” Curse you mouth. My voice cracks. “And with us . . . working together . . .”
“Wait, but she said you weren’t dating.”
Stop. Stop now.
“We haven’t really defined things. It’s still a little awkward.”
I’m dead.
Holly draws in a gasp that squeaks, yes, squeaks. I think she even bounces a little in her seat. “You mean it?”
I keep digging my grave deeper, and deeper. “We’ve known each other since college and with the wedding, things changed.”
Holly smacks the top of the table. “Relationships aren’t a problem at work, Bastien. You must tell her that. All you need is to fill out a form, my friend. I can have Piper email her the form now.”
She’s going to kill me. “No,” I say quickly. “No, I’ll uh, get one from Oscar. We haven’t really told anyone. Not even him. We didn’t want to overshadow her sister’s wedding and all that.”
“Understood, but surely they’ve noticed.”
“Maybe. I’ll make sure we get the form.”
Holly smiles, then shakes her finger, chuckling. “I thought there was a little something between the two of you today. No wonder she was so nervous when I spoke with her.”
She was something, that’s for sure.
“Yeah,” I croak out.
“Oh, you know, this is perfect. She sent in her resume for a marketing position, did you know?”
I don’t nod, don’t respond. I stare at the conference table, unblinking.
“Of course you did. I assume she’ll be joining us on Sunday. What a great time to get to know her better.”
My stomach is in hard knots. “Yeah, she’ll be there.”
Holly grins slyly. “Seems we would’ve found out soon enough, wouldn’t we?”
“We didn’t want anything to be . . . uncomfortable for anyone here, so we’ve been moving slow.”
“Bastien, really, you shouldn’t be embarrassed dating a coworker. How do you suppose Roger and I met? Besides, anyone can see the way you look at her; you’re proud of her. Celebrate it.”
I stare at my hands. Dried up of lies for a moment.
Holly claps her hands again and stands. “Well, I think it’s wonderful. I’m glad to know you aren’t turning into a robot. Really, it can happen to the best of us. I look forward to Sunday, you know, to get a vibe on how she’d fit in with the marketing folks and all that. And you, keep it up. You’re impressive, Bastien. The sort of driven, balanced head we need for these upcoming changes.”
Now would be a great time to brag about Laney, to tell Holly that she’d be an excellent choice. She deserves it since I just made her my fake girlfriend without her being aware in the slightest. A minor thing. I’ll worry about all that later.
I should say something, but words burn up the moment they strike my tongue. Holly pats my shoulder, reminds me to get the forms from Oscar, then leaves with a new bounce in her step.
Now what?
I let my head rest on top of my hands over the conference room table. She’s going to kill me. Nicole might kill me after Laney’s done, and then who knows, they might let Oscar have a go. I’ll need to speak with Oscar if I intend to get these forms for a relationship that I made up. The second our families put down their battle gear, we went from enemy status to best friends. But this, even he might not laugh about this one.
Raking my fingers through my hair, it’s obvious what I’ve got to do.
Doesn’t mean I like it.
Doesn’t mean I hate it either.
Love it or hate it, I’ve got to have a long, convincing conversation with Laney Brooks.
Chapter 6
Laney
Weird.
When Oscar shoots a text asking how Bastien is, where he is, what he’s doing, that’s the only word I can come up with.
He’s being weird.
After I left the meeting the boss man didn’t come back for another forty-five minutes, then he marched straight to his office and practically bolted the door. I haven’t seen more than his shadowy movements through the glass since.
Oscar: He’s not answering my texts either. I’m calling your line. Then push me through to him, K.
I shoot him back with a thumb’s up emoji and wait a whole three seconds before my office phone beeps.
“Good afternoon, this is Laney.”
“Wow, you answer so chipperly . . . cheerily, whatever the word is,” Oscar says.
“Oh, just for you.”
“Can you send me through to him?”
“Eh, not until you tell me why the guy who loves to bark orders at me all day has brought radio silence for the last two hours. I’m about ready to leave for the day, and he hasn’t tossed out the usual tick-Laney-off end of day checklist.”
Oscar chuckles. “I don’t know what’s up, but I want to ask.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll send you through. Hold on.”
I do my administrative assisting thing, holding Oscar’s line while calling Bastien.
“Yeah,” he answers briskly.
“Good evening to you, sunshine,” I say. “Oscar is on line two.”
“I can’t talk.”
“Well, that’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be marching down here in five minutes if you don’t. As your assistant, and life coach on how to not be a miserable person, I suggest you take the call.”
He sighs loudly. “Fine, Brooks.”
“Good choice,” I chirp and push the call through. Then immediately text Oscar to tell me everything, doubting he will. Oscar is too loyal to his moody friend. Honestly, if something is going on with Bastien, it’s not really my business, right? Why do I even care?
Still, I send the text and start to close my desk.
When I’m the last one left, I check my phone. No message from Oscar. Bastien still hasn’t emerged. I consider for half a breath, going in and telling him I’m leaving, but I turn and stalk out of the office instead. Sending a text might be better for his weird, anti-people attitude right now.
Laney: Left for the day. You are now alone and can step into the light. Until tomorrow.
I’m halfway up my front porch steps, paper grocery bag balanced in one arm, when my phone dings a response.
Bastien: Sounds good. Thanks for your hard work.
My mail is clamped between my teeth, the hand with my groceries is holding my house key, and I’m frozen. Like a crazy lady I just stand there and reread the simple text at least five times.
Something is definitely weird with Bastien Olsen.
And it goes on for two days. It’s one thing dealing with an arrogant, full-of-himself boss. I’m used to it. But it’s quite another thing to have a foreign entity replace said boss with a considerate, soft-spoken, well-mannered invader.
It’s creepy. Unnerving. Strange.
Bastien even made his own copies on Tuesday. Then today, he asked if I wanted
an old edition of Jane Eyre, telling me Brita has been pushing it on him, but he just can’t read it. He gave it to me, like he remembered I love to read. Maybe he does remember.
I’m not even sure I said thank you, I was so taken back. By the time I’m leaving the office on Wednesday, I’m beyond suspicious. My head takes me to unsettling thoughts like, he’s buttering me up to let me down with a harsh reference to Holly, or maybe he’s going to fire me. I am snippy with the man. Sarcasm is inevitable, but maybe I took it too far?
Then that makes me mad. If he’s going to fire me right before my sister’s wedding, oh, he will not like playing Best Man to my Maid of Honor, that’s for sure.
I shower, the entire time, plotting preemptively all the tricks and pranks I’ll play on Bastien to make his day in that tux miserable if need be. It isn’t beneath me, and Nicole will understand. She’ll probably help.
My phone lights up with a new message as I squeeze out the water from my hair, imagining cutting his shoelaces too short right before we head to the chapel, or cutting his tie.
My breath catches. Bastien is texting me, after hours, like he has a sixth sense that I’m thinking of him.
Bastien: You home?
What? I stare at the screen as I walk down my hallway. On my way past an armchair in my small front room, my little toe strikes the leg.
“Ouch!” I shout, hopping on one foot.
My phone dings again.
Bastien: Brooks? Are you home?
I bite my lip through the ache and reply.
Laney: No, why?
I slump in the chair, massaging my little toe and trying to hold back any more words I’ll regret later.
Bastien: Oh, well I think someone is getting beat inside your place. Maybe I should call the cops.
I snap to attention, stiff in the chair.
Laney: What?
Bastien: Your sister said you were home. I have something to talk to you about, so I came by.
Laney: I’m not really prepared for company.
Bastien: So you are home.
Laney: Are you going to murder me?
Bastien: How did you guess?
Laney: Seriously, you never come by.
Bastien: I helped you move.
Laney: Because Oscar forced you, and then for three weeks you told me I picked couches that were ridiculously heavy.
