“Now’s your chance,” Evie invited, walking over to the frame boards.
Andy followed, bringing her latte with him. He took a sip and then handed it back to her. In the mirror, he ruffled his hands over his blond head. The slicked-back hair returned to its light and bouncy waves, framing the squareness of his jaw that she had never noticed before.
“My chance for what?”
“To annoy an optician.”
Andy snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes. “That’s nothing new. I get to annoy you all the time.”
“Well, it’s a first for me then,” Evie chirped, reaching to pick a frame for him, “to try frames on you. A virgin-glasses-wearer.”
“I’m not a virgin,”
“Sunglasses don’t count,” she chided.
Andy narrowed his eyes in a glare, before slipping the frame on. Evie stepped slightly in front of him so she could see him full-on but not block his view of the mirror. The grey metal semi-rimless frame made the most of his naturally arching brows and deep-set eyes. What it did not do was anything at all for those green irises of his. It muted the colour, mudding it to a grey-green that made her think of World War II bombers. The blue arm highlighted the blue ring that surrounds every iris, adding presence to the round orb itself, but nothing more.
“This is nice,”
“For an old man, maybe,”
The comment made Andy balk with surprise, but he obliged her and slid the frame off. “That’s a baby step into what colour Thistle has for you.”
“I think it looked just fine,” Andy replied, “what was so wrong with it?”
Evie turned back to him and offered him the same frame again. “I’ll show you,” she said, as he put it back on.
Andy squared his shoulders and peered at his reflection. He shrugged, and the redhead stepped in closer, still allowing his line of sight to the mirror.
“Black is a colour absorber. It takes colour away from your eyes, your hair, and your skin. Grey is not much better. It’s a lighter tone of black. It doesn’t suck the colour, but it draws enough away that your eyes don’t appear green anymore. They look grey.” His eyes widened with understanding.
Andy did not hesitate to hand the frame back to her this time when she proffered her hand for it. She took more time to consider his unique colour palette. His skin was a light golden brown from time spent in the sun, far darker than many of the Scotsmen she had grown accustomed to in the store.
Evie handed him a different frame and was delighted with the results. Andy was less thrilled. He took one look at himself and burst into snickers that he failed to smother behind a hand.
“What?”
“It looks like I am wearing Lego,” he commented, adjusting the fit of the red frame, “is this a kids frame?”
“We don’t label our frames,” she shot back sternly.
Planting her hands on her hips, Evie tossed her loose red hair over her shoulder and began to educate the Aussie. “The frames are entirely unisex, leaving them open to the interpretation of the wearer without the complication of society driven labels. So, we have no men’s, women’s, or children’s frames. We base the frame choice on your fit, your complexion, your hair colour and eye colour. And in this way, we can find a match that is as unique as you are.”
Evie stopped in her lecture as her friend’s smirk grew into an impish grin. “I know,” he barely managed to say without breaking into hysterical laughter, “I just wanted to see you in your natural habitat.”
“Natural habitat?”
“The natural habitat of a dispensing optician. Selling.”
Evie jabbed her elbow into the Aussie’s navy suit jacket. Andy laughed harder as he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, so she was standing before him in the mirror. She looked at their reflection. Andy shifted in close behind her. His eyes behind Connie’s frame were intense.
It was so new and strange to have him here with her. Evie thought again about how normal they seemed together, as though they had never been thousands of miles apart at all. It made her feel grateful for his ease, the way he had transitioned from online confidante to in-person best friend without any backtracking or stall.
The blond reached out a hand and pointed at her reflection, commanding, “Sell yourself this frame.”
The command confused the optician. He could see it on her face and reiterated, “You’ve told me all about Connie and the frames, Evie. That’s why I’m here. I see the potential of the product. Now, I want to see how you sell it.”
This was a test. Not of her abilities, but of Thistle’s.
Evie rose to this occasion without hesitation. Squaring her shoulders back, she began to dissect the frame line’s whys and hows of her own frame. The optician described what it did for her that its competitors could not. The investor’s eyes mapped the gestures that she used to aid her descriptors. He took in how she used eye contact to enforce her points as she delivered the whole idea as one clear and concise package. It was not hard to illustrate how the product sold itself.
Andy was smiling as she finished. He opened his mouth as though to praise her when they heard steps approaching. Evie glanced back over her shoulder, barely registering that Andy was still close behind her as Connie joined them.
Evie froze when she saw the two mugs he bore.
Connie’s usually congenial expression was tight, as he shoved both cups into her hands. The colouration of his eyes was void of variation, as he gave Andrew Miller a greeting that came out sounding so awkward it made Evie’s guts coil.
Recognizing the tension that now flooded the space between the three of them, the dispensing optician slipped away. Evie felt a pang of guilt for having forgotten that the Scot had dropped by with the coffee. That feeling was doubled when she took a sip of one, and the contents were lukewarm.
Evie left the mugs at the front and eagerly dealt with the abandoned paperwork from her sale with the little boy, allowing the businessmen some space.
“Yer early,” the Scot pointed out like he was making an excuse for not being present to welcome his investor.
“I am,” Andy replied, the simple comment apologetic, as he explained, “Evie was just showing me the frames. I wanted to see how your staff handles selling the product.”
“Evie is a very skilled dispensing optician,” Connie complimented, “but the product fills a void in the marketplace, allowing patients to receive a product that is undeniably unique to them, their needs, and their desires.”
“If presented in the right way,” Andy flattered the designer, “it practically sells itself.”
This seemed to help Connie relax. Evie could see the squareness of his shoulders give just a touch, as the set of his jaw softened. The redhead glanced away from the pair, trying not to eavesdrop. Her eyes found the mounds of whip cream melting atop the two mugs of coffee. Her empty Starbucks latte was still at the dispensing table.
Evie sat down in her chair behind the desk, pulling the cold mug closer. She felt obliged to drink the coffee.
Evie drowned herself in her work and the latte, desperately wanting to disappear while the two discussed business. Connie helped Andy in and out of several more frames, as they worked their way through deciding on three unique pairs. An hour after they had started, the two men walked over to the reception desk, where Andy called for her attention.
The redhead jumped up from the chair, dropping her pen, as the Aussie leaned his elbows on the bar height top of the desk. He was showcasing a plastic frame to her, striped varying shades of a pearlized blue. “Whadya think?”
Evie nodded her head without any consideration, chirping, “I like it.”
Andy took it off and tried on another two, one white and orange full metal frame, and another lime green and blue. All three fit Andy perfectly, and after she okayed them, Connie gave the command for her to order them.
“I’ll email you the Rx,” the businessmen said dismissively.
Evie was so taken back with surprise that sh
e was unable to squash the thought before it had left her mouth, “You wear glasses?”
Andy gave a stifled snort of laughter, looking abashed, as Connie cut in gruffly, “We’ll have those ready as soon as we can. Evie will fit the frames for ya now, and then we will mail them out to you.”
“No need.” Andy countered, “I will be back in four weeks. I can pick them up then.”
Evie escorted Andy over to the dispensing table, where Connie quickly stepped in to clear away the disposable cups. Evie felt guilty for having left them there in the open and worse for having her boss trash them, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She shut off her whirring brain, ignoring how confused she was becoming with both men in the same room. She focused on taking measurements and entering data.
The two men cleared out after, presumably, to have papers drawn up and finalize things. The dispensing optician was left scrambling to catch up with preparing for Mara’s packed exam schedule, knowing full well now that Connie would not be back to help her out.
◆◆◆
Evie spent the afternoon in a flurry of activity that she was only half-heartedly able to execute. Mara’s patient list was packed, leaving the redhead on the dead run, split between welcoming patients, preparing files for Mara, and selling glasses. She was spread so thin, she couldn’t keep up, and eventually, Ian was drawn out of the back from lens cutting to pitch in, tripling the weight of Evie’s disappointment and guilt.
Together they managed to find an awkward rhythm that got them through. When the last patient left the store, Evie collapsed into the chair at the front desk, head in her hands. The headache that she had ignored earlier in the day had come back with a vengeance as she had scrambled about the store in a frenzy, and now it threatened to crack the thick bone of her skull.
What had been manageable the weeks before had suddenly come to a crashing end today. She had been split in two. One half of her organizing and juggling her time between the priorities of the store, while the other half was consumed by the awkward string of incidents that had led her to be in this perplexing quandary. How the hell had her life gotten so damned complicated!
As she held her pounding head in her hands, she heard the telltale click of Mara’s stilettos on the floor. Her head snapped up so fast that Evie felt the twinge of whiplash. The doctor approached the reception desk, tall and regal in her authority. Evie tried to act nonchalant, but as their eyes met, the girl knew she was caught in the woman’s crosshairs. Preparing to be called out on her subpar performance, the redhead tried to steel her jellied backbone. She barely managed to pull halfway out of her slump.
“That was busy,” Mara started, as she placed her elbows on the desktop, sounding oddly conversational, “How did we do?”
Evie turned to the computer, pulling up the daily totals for her boss to peruse. It was better than the dispensing optician had thought, and she was hoping she might get off easy.
“I’d like to speak with you after we are finished,” she began, the words far from a request, even as she added placatingly, “If that works for you.”
“Sure,” Evie chirped, as cheerily as she could make it sound with her stomach iced over, “that’s fine.”
Mara nodded her head and then glided back to her office. Once the door was closed, the redhead collapsed forward onto the desk. She buried her face between her elbows, cradling the back of her head.
I’m so screwed, she thought anxiously.
They had little time left to kill. The patient schedule had taken them right up until closing. Of course, Ian had buggered off as soon as the last patient went in with Mara, and now Edgar and Tracey were quiet.
Evie gave a resigned sigh and then gathered the strength she needed to carry on with her duties. Mara appeared with her coat and purse as she was finishing, looking haughty and impatient. She instructed Evie to disregard the usual cleaning regiment and grab her things. Obviously, they would not be staying to chat at the store.
Together they locked up and stepped out. Evie was trying to ascertain if it would be polite to ask where they were going when Mara hastily explained, “Let’s grab a coffee somewhere.”
Evie couldn’t manage any more than a stiff nod, as her boss hailed a passing cabbie. They slipped into the back, and Mara gave the cabbie instructions. The redhead was surprised that they were heading to the shopping centre.
They sat in silence as the taxi navigated the short distance, each second that passed added to her apprehension, as the girl’s mind scrambled to detect the woman’s intent. Was it about her lacklustre efficiency that day? Was it a performance review—it had been about the right amount of time for something like that. Was it about the frame launch? Each idea that she ran through in her mind was worse than the last until she was nearly hyperventilating against the window as the vehicle came to a stop.
Mara paid the driver as Evie jumped out, sucking in a quick couple of breaths to clear the tension in her chest. They were down by the water, at the mall where the Queen’s Britannia was permanently retired, and the breeze that blew her hair into a tangled mess was fresh and salty.
As the doctor joined her, Evie couldn’t help but notice the scowl sent her way before the woman gave a brisk nod, indicating the large bank of doors in front of them.
“Starbuck’s, right?”
Evie nodded her head again, forcing that ugly press-lipped smile onto her face.
Thankfully the coffee shop was busy. Evie was sure that if she was going to be fired or severely reprimanded that the delivery would at least be civil, given the number of witnesses present. As they came inside, Mara asked for Evie’s order and then instructed her to pick a table.
The redhead weaved her way to a small round table in the back corner of the long shop. As she removed her jacket, the girl was surprised how clammy her hands felt. She wiped them on her pants and sat down. She was on pins and needles, watching her boss pay and pick up their drinks.
Evie removed her teeth from her bottom lip as Mara joined her at the table. Her fingers were shaking as she accepted the coffee, and she wondered if a third shot of espresso was really what she should have ordered.
Always the picture of sophistication, the doctor sat pertly, her legs crossed at the ankles, and her shoulders squared. Evie felt herself swallow when the woman’s dark eyes landed on her, spiking her anxiety to a breaking point, despite Mara’s thin smile.
“Thank you for joining me after hours, Evangeline.” Mara began, her voice smooth as always, “I hoped that we might be able to speak on a more personal level, outside the store.”
Evie felt her teeth unclench, even as her body gave a mechanical nod in response. Personal? This isn’t about work…? I don’t get it, her mind was whirring, thrown off balance.
Mara averted her eyes as she took a dainty sip of her tea, looking as forced as Evie felt in the situation.
“There is no easy way to say this,” The optometrist said, her tone firm, “but I have come to respect your experience and professionalism…and I felt that you deserved a certain amount of clarity…”
Evie saw her boss swallow before she finally continued, “You are an excellent dispensing optician, Evangeline, and I have come to rely on your presence in the store. You have brought more than you know to the forefront of our business, and I wanted you to know just how much I have appreciated what you have done.”
Mara paused to moisten her lips. Evie was confused by the woman’s accolades, having expected so much worse. After a calculating moment, Mara added, “I know that I come off a little rough. I do not always vocalize commendation as often as I should, but you have accomplished something that I have struggled many years to…” She stopped and moistening her lips before she corrected, “You have accomplished something that I have struggled with and failed to do.”
Evie felt her brows knit together. She was well past boggled. The redhead didn’t want her boss to visibly read her confusion, but all she managed in the way of covering it up, was to lift her brows.
This probably just left her looking surprised. She felt like an idiot, but the optometrist didn’t seem to take notice.
Mara was lost in her own emotions. Her eyes were downcast again. Evie could see those dark orbs scrutinizing the teabag that floated on the top of the darkening brew, as though this perfect woman was actually struggling to convey her thoughts clearly and concisely.
What in the world is she talking about, Evie’s thoughts were screaming, failed? What has this woman ever failed?
The answer was there at the forefront of her thoughts far quicker than Evie had expected, provided by some deep dark part of her that wanted to gloat—Connie.
The redhead wiped the thoughts away. What she needed to do was calm the hell down—and listen.
“Thistle launching…is truly a dream come true,” Mara admitted, the soft curve of a smile on her lips, “for both Coinneach and I…and it wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
Evie didn’t know how to respond to that. This was a generous commendation from the otherwise steely optometrist. Was she supposed to say thank you? Your welcome? No problem? She opted for taking a long sip from her latte instead, hoping like hell she wasn't rude.
“That’s why this is so hard,” the woman’s tone switched back, from pleased to that pinched strain, as she dropped a bombshell, “you see…I know about your involvement with Coinneach.”
16
Evie’s throat constricted. Burning, as her lungs spasmed, fighting for air. She felt her face flush as she covered her mouth with a fist and tried to force herself to cough. Mara didn’t seem to have noticed that she had choked on her latte. The woman, who’s eyes were on the table again, just raised her hands in a placating gesture. She nodded her head and repeated the statement, “I know about your involvement with Coinneach.”
It was no easier to hear the second time. Evie coughed into her fist, as obtrusively as possible, silently freaking out on the inside. What?! How the hell? She knows?! She knows! And what is this then? A reckoning? Vengeance? Finally, Evie managed to cough enough to remove the steaming brew from her airways, without becoming a sputtering mess.
Seeing Colour Page 27