Leaning down, Sandy presses full lips to Catherine’s cheek. Cat’s jaw tightens. “Hello, Catherine,” Sandy says in her husky voice. “This turnout is amazing.”
“Good morning, Sandy,” Catherine says evenly. “Thank you for coming. Ricky would have appreciated it. You remember everyone from the viewing?”
“Yes, of course. Hello.” Sandy nods to my family, smiling faintly. “I don’t want to intrude. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go say a prayer for Rick and find a seat. Again, I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”
Sandy kneels in front of my casket and bows her head to rest on steepled fingers.
I turn back to Catherine.
Her head is facing the opposite direction.
CHAPTER 38
“Ms. Colbert would like to see you now.”
“Right. I’ll be there in a sec.” I thanked the secretary and locked up my PC.
Office grapevines are viral, organic things. My honeymoon now a memory only weeks old, rumors of a new Managing Director assailed me upon my return to work. Scuttlebutt whispered it was to be the daughter of the elder Colbert brother, one half of the octogenarian duo who made my biweekly king’s ransom possible. Anybody who’s ever worked in an office knows how unreliable the gossip usually is.
My motto?
Don’t buy it until you see it in writing.
The official announcement came via email several days after my return. Sandra Colbert was indeed our new Managing Director.
Tales—from the mundane to the outlandish to the downright mean—made their way from lip to ear to lip to ear like links in a chain: Sandra’s an utter bitch; Sandra’s a man-hating lesbian known only to promote those who support her feminist agenda; Sandra is a know nothing idiot who’s advanced through nepotism. And those were some of the nicer rumors making their way around the office.
I did my best to ignore the baseless vitriol, determined to meet her for the first time with an open mind.
Having taken one last bite of a previous healthy fingernail, I knocked on her door.
“Come in.” The voice was deep and smoky.
I entered.
Despite my best efforts I did have an image of Sandra Colbert in my mind. I’d conjured up visions of a short, squat, wart-covered hag that would sooner be living in a swamp lying in wait to lure unsuspecting Germanic children to their early demise rather than what I now saw sitting behind the large desk. In my defense, I’ve never claimed to be perfect, and it turned out that my twisted imaginings couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.
Long jet-black hair was tied in a perfect bun. Understated makeup, enough to show she went to the trouble to apply it, complimented an angular, yet decidedly beautiful facial structure. A black button-down shirt under a well-cut gray suit did nothing to hide her generous cleavage. Lithe fingers with freshly manicured nails flipped through a file with an economy of motion. On first inspection, Sandra Colbert seemed no more than thirty-five, but she exuded the cool confidence and sultriness of someone much more experienced.
I cleared my throat, and she looked up at me with hypnotic blue eyes framed by a pair of retro black-framed glasses. She closed the file and stood.
“Please, come in.” She approached, hand outstretched. “Sandra Colbert. My friends call me Sandy.”
Her fingers were soft and cool, but not clammy, her grip firm, but not uncomfortably so. “Rick Franchitti,” I said, trying not to gawk. No easy task considering her skirt’s mid-thigh hemline exposed the firm, tanned legs of an active runner. “Nice to meet you, Sandy.”
“I said my friends call me Sandy, Rick. Are you and I friends?” I stiffened under her intense stare. An apology was on the tip of my tongue when her lips curled in an intriguing smile best described as borderline playful. “Gotcha. Please have a seat.”
I sat as ordered.
“I’ve been going through your file, Rick,” she said as she straightened her skirt and sat. “I have to say I’m impressed. Your annual reviews are consistently off the charts, and your work,” she patted the file, “speaks for itself. If I only had ten more of you.”
“Oh. Thank you very much. I appreciate the kind words.”
Sandy set her glasses on the desk. “Nobody told you what this meeting was about.” She shook her head. “Typical. You may as well hear it from the horse’s mouth.” She produced a crystal pitcher. “Water?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” My throat was a tube of sandpaper, but I felt accepting the water would have been a sign of weakness. As she poured herself a glass, I noticed a college degree from Harvard Business School hung on the wall behind her. That squashed the rumor of her idiocy.
“First off, let me tell you why I’m here. Your previous Managing Director was competent enough, but during this transition I’ve realized he didn’t seem to have an issue with letting things stagnate. My job is to give this place a solid kick in the ass and to make sure Colbert & Colbert is and continues to be profitable. That means making some changes. Bringing in more new clients than we have been, making existing ones even happier than they already are, shuffling around personnel and putting them in the best possible position to make a difference around here.” Two sapphire eyes bored holes into me. “That’s where you come in.”
“Not to sound stupid, but what exactly do you mean?”
“What would you think about heading your own team?”
I shifted in my seat. “Is this an interview?”
“If you want it to be.” Her face broke into that intriguing smile again. “By all accounts, you’re a good man, Rick. Your file proves it and so does the praise I’ve gotten from existing management. When discussion of who would be offered this title first started, your name came up repeatedly.” I felt my brow furrow. “What? Surprised I’ve been checking up on you?”
My throat made a dry clicking noise. “Not at all. I would have done the same in your shoes.”
“I vet my employees thoroughly. One of a few things I’m very good at.”
I’ll just bet.
“This is our first meeting, but I’ve been lurking around the office for quite a while now, watching and getting the lay of the land. You can get a great feel for how people work when they don’t know they’re being observed. And I hope you don’t feel blindsided by having this sprung on you at the last second, but I also like to see how people interview when they haven’t had a chance to prepare. Let’s me see how they think on their feet. Anybody can study and give a canned response filled with useless buzzwords. That’s not always the best indicator if a person’s right for the job or not.
“Here’s some of what the job entails,” she continued. “You’d still have hands-on creative control and be able to get into the nuts and bolts of things as you see fit, but you’d be the big picture person overseeing a small group of designers working exclusively for you.” Sandy leaned back and laced her fingers together over her flat stomach, then gave me more details about what would be expected of me. “Now for the downside. There always is one. You’ll need to work longer hours on occasion. I’m not saying we’d force eighty hours a week on you, but you would have to be prepared for last minute meetings, conferences, et cetera. Any expenses for travel will be on us of course.”
“I’d expect no less,” I said, trying on a grin. So help me, but I was flirting with her.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious about the salary?”
“Absolutely, but I thought it’d be rude to ask.”
“Hardly. With great responsibility comes a great paycheck.” She nonchalantly mentioned a number that made my heart skip a beat. I noticed her eyes flick to my wedding band. “And who can’t use more money, right?”
“Right.”
Sandy studied me for a few silent moments. She leaned her elbows on the desk, fingers steepled under her chin. “So tell me, Rick. Is this an interview or not?”
“Would it be out of line if I said hell yes?”
Perfect teeth gleamed in the bright office. “Hell no.”<
br />
CHAPTER 39
“Rick, could you get me the ginger, please?”
“You mean that redheaded kid from the park? I thought we’d gotten past that.”
“Ha ha. Dick.”
Catherine was working up some stir fry. Can’t have stir fry without ginger. I found the reclusive jar hidden in the back of the pantry. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” The aromatic spice sizzled when it hit the steaming wok.
“So, I had an interesting conversation with the new boss today,” I said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Mmm? Care to share?”
I gave her a quick, yet thorough, recap of my meeting with Sandy Colbert, placing special emphasis on the phrase ‘more money’.
“And you got the job?”
“I got the job. Looks like yours truly is movin’ on up.”
My wife all but squealed in delight. The wok went forgotten and she wrapped her arms around my neck.
“That’s great news, Ricky! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you much,” I said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “The boss called me at the end of the day and said it was mine if I wanted it. She’s been secretly interviewing candidates for the last few weeks. Guess she liked me best. Now it’s mine to screw up.”
“You won’t screw it up.”
“This wasn’t how I thought my day would go when I woke up this morning. I’m still a little shocked that I was asked, much less offered the position.”
Cat went back to our soon-to-be dinner, stirring in the freshly added ginger. “Why so surprised?”
“I haven’t been there that long. You’d think someone else would be first in line.” I shrugged. “But hey, I’m not going to turn down the chance at the supervisory experience and extra money, especially since we’re trying to expand our little family here. Speaking of,” I laced my fingers together over her stomach and nuzzled the back of her neck, “Any news on that front?”
Catherine’s shoulders slumped. “No, not yet. Aunt Flo from Red Bank paid me a visit this morning. But that’s okay. It’ll happen.”
“True. Besides, the trying is the best part.” I kissed the top of her head and started making the salad.
“So, what’s this Sandy Colbert like?”
“She’s interesting, no doubt. Harvard Business grad.”
“Really?”
“Really really.”
“Wow. Impressive.”
“Yep. She’s intense but seems fair. And it’s obvious she has an impeccable eye for talent.”
“That goes without saying. Married? Kids?”
“Don’t think so. Didn’t notice a ring on her finger. Come to think of it, there weren’t any personal photos in her office either. Word’s been floating around that she just moved back to Jersey not that long ago. From New Hampshire, or something like that.”
“Is she as hideous as you imagined?”
“Why, Catherine Maddox Franchitti. I would never assume the worst about someone like that.”
“Bullshit.”
“Busted.” Sandy’s looks weren’t something I wanted to discuss, mostly because I found them so appealing, not that I’d ever act on it. But while her appearance had no bearing on anything, I knew Cat would meet her at some point. “What was the question again?”
Catherine leaned against the counter, crossed her arms, and gave me ‘the look.’ “I’m waiting.” I grabbed a white kitchen towel and waved it in the air. “You surrendering?”
“No. Your ass is on fire.”
“Huh?” She spun around to a flaming wok, smoke rising toward the range hood. “Shit! It’s ruined.”
I chuckled and kneaded her shoulders as she tried to rescue our meal. “Ruined? Nah. A little well done maybe, but not ruined.”
“You’re just trying to distract me so I won’t keep busting your balls about your boss.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Well?”
“No, Sandy is not hideous.”
“She pretty?” She said it in a sing-song voice, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah, she’s pretty.”
“Prettier than me?”
“Nobody’s prettier than you. Except maybe Bill.”
“So … older, single, attractive woman.” Cat shot me a wry grin over her shoulder. “You’d best keep your hands to yourself, mister.”
“I said pretty, not attractive. Big difference. Do I detect the sound of the ages-old Green Eyed Monster in your tone, Mrs. Franchitti?”
“You wish. We Maddox women don’t do jealousy. We do revenge.”
“Duly noted. But why would I settle for anything less than perfection?”
“You’re such a smooth talker.”
“Yet another reason why you married me. None of this matters anyway. Rumor has it she’s a card carrying lesbian.”
“What a relief,” Cat laughed. “My husband is safe.”
~~~
“I’d like your opinion on something, Rick,” Sandy said, leaning over with her palms resting on my desk. “What do you think of Jack Resnick’s work on the Jersey Gym account?”
I pursed my lips and thought it over.
“You can be honest with me.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Jack’s a nice guy, and his work’s usually pretty good …”
“But?”
“But it’s too retro for me. It’s not bad, but it’s not great either.”
She rolled her hand in the air. “And?”
“And I think he’s a bad fit for the client. I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s like a blind man in an orgy, just feeling his way through on this one.”
Jesus Christ, did I just say that out loud?
Sandy’s blue eyes widened in shock, then she burst out laughing.
“The Naked Gun,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“You’re a fan?”
She made a face as if I’d insulted her intelligence. “What? Bosses aren’t allowed to watch slapstick eighties movies? We’re all business, all the time?”
“Um, well no. That’s not what I meant.”
A deliberate wink. “Gotcha.”
My heart rate slowed. “You sure did. But I didn’t think that kind of movie would be up your alley.”
She shrugged. “We can’t know everything about everyone.”
The room suddenly became very quiet, and deciding to get the discussion back on track, I cleared my throat and said, “I didn’t mean to throw Jack under the bus. He’s good at his job.”
“No need to back peddle, Rick. I asked you your opinion, and you were honest about it. None of what we’ve discussed will get back to him, but I think your team would be better off taking over the account from now on. Think you can handle it?”
“Absolutely.”
“It’ll probably involve some extra hours since it’s a last minute changeover. Like I said,” she made a ‘what can you do’ gesture with open palms, “with great pay comes great responsibility. And I apologize for dumping it on you at the last minute.”
“It’s okay. I bought my ticket. I knew what I was getting into.”
Another snap of fingers. “Airplane!”
“Yes,” I said, laughing. “I’ll let my wife know not to file a missing persons report on me for the time being.”
“Speaking of which,” Sandy picked up a picture of my wife and me standing in front of a gazebo in our wedding finery, and sat on the corner of my desk, “How’s married life treating you?”
“Pretty well,” I said, attempting to not look at the shapely leg she dangled before me. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing a large patch of thigh. I plastered a benign smile on my face. “Can’t complain.”
“Your wife—Catherine, is it? She’s very lovely. And I love her dress. You’re a lucky man, Rick.”
“Don’t I know it. But she didn’t too bad either, did she?”
“No she didn’t.” Sandy placed the picture back in its rightful placed and regarded me
, her expression unreadable. It left me with a vague, uncomfortable feeling, as if everything, no matter how innocuous on the surface, was a test. We’d been working well together and got along better than I’d anticipated, but the sensation of constantly being under a microscope clung to me like a wet shirt.
“So, how about you, Sandy? Married? Kids?” Card carrying lesbian?
Something clouded her eyes for a blink, and when she laughed it was cynical and sounded forced. “God no. I’m too focused on my career to settle down and start a family.”
“Nothing wrong with that. It’s not for everyone.”
Sandy stood and straightened her skirt. “Before I forget, I wanted to let you know I’m having a dinner party this Saturday. Nothing extravagant, just a little something to get to know my team leaders a bit better.” The offer took me by surprise, but it wasn’t the most outrageous thing I’d ever heard. I’d been to several social gatherings with Catherine’s boss outside of work; company picnics, fundraisers, etc. “And I’m sorry for the late notice, Rick. I’ll understand if you have plans. Don’t worry if you can’t make it. It won’t reflect in your performance review,” she added with a wink.
“Mind if I bring Cat with me?”
“Of course. Bring her along.”
“Okay. Thanks for the invitation. Sounds fun, Sandy. I’ll talk to Cat and let you know, okay?”
“Fantastic.”
Sandy put her hand on my shoulder, then sashayed out of my office.
CHAPTER 40
“Wow. Pretty swanky,” Catherine observed. The homes in Sandy’s Belle Meade development gave the Maddox compound a run for its money. “I guess it pays to be the boss’s daughter.”
“No shit. There it is. Number 14.” I made a right and pulled into the driveway.
“I wonder if she has a Renfield or a Butterworth,” Catherine joked as I rang the doorbell.
“Hopefully no dire wolves though.”
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