by Mimi Barbour
A shocked look crossed Sara’s face. “I didn’t realize Hugo was a widower. He’s very private concerning his personal life. The one and only time I stopped in his office I saw his children’s photographs displayed on the desk, so I assumed he was married.”
“Has the rumor mill here at the office broken down? Don’t they discuss him?”
“They’d better not. As I said, he’s a very private person, and though he’s friendly, most of it is surface cordiality. They transferred me from the plant to this office nearly eight months ago, and I’ve kept to myself somewhat. I’m certainly aware that here, in this building, he’s pretty much adored, and out of respect he’s not normally a topic of conversation.”
“Ï hope I didn’t blab classified information. I had lots of interaction with him and his family prior to coming here. His kids were my favorites—very happy and well adjusted.”
“He’s a nice man. I’m not surprised,” Sara stated firmly.
Just then a male voice could be heard behind Sara, who was half in and half out of the room, blocking the doorway. “Who’s a nice man? Hope you’re talking about me.” Hugo hovered so close that when Sara turned, Annie saw their bodies brush. Then she grinned, watching Sara immediately step fully into the room as if she’d been burnt.
Annie answered him. “Your head’ll get even more swollen if we admit that our private conversation concerned our brilliant boss.” She stressed the word private.
“God, you’re fantastic! A compliment and an insult all wrapped up nicely in one neat sentence. No wonder I snatched you away from your last place. And by the way, my kids still haven’t totally forgiven me, though they love their new computer. You know, the one I bribed them with so they’d talk to me again. It took two days of forbidden snacks, staying up later on weekends, plus a promise to take them to Disneyland this summer, before I got my good-night hugs reinstated.”
His right-hand index finger tapped the other four on his left hand as he itemized each point. He winked at Sara, a curious bystander to their goofing around. Annie watched his sharp gaze zero in on the lovely reddish hue spreading across her assistant’s cheeks after his teasing. Annie knew then that he’d heard Sara’s emphatic statement, and he knew who they’d been discussing, the wily fox.
It intrigued Annie to watch Sara’s reaction to his chitchat. She switched her gaze to where her boss stood, seemingly at ease, and scrutinized his pensive expression. Then she spied Sara’s fingers fidgeting, kneading—destroying her clutched tickets. Interesting!
Sara abruptly turned and headed for the door, stopping before she’d left their sight. “Call if you need me. I’ve got work to do.”
A short time later, after Hugo had clued her in on some of the possible problems that might surface in the next couple of days, Annie toiled hard, accomplishing miracles. Her inbox emptied rapidly, and the day whizzed by.
A favored lunch, which Sara donated when she saw her boss was in the “work like a fiend” mode—a New York vendor hot dog full of sauerkraut and onions—satisfied her hunger. Annie loved long days with her head down and scads of tasks moving from the in-basket to the one labeled “Out.” Interruptions were kept to a minimum, and a huge amount got done.
The door, always left open according to Annie’s policy, was an empty space one moment and filled with an angry woman in the next. A flustered Sara, manhandling a vocal, clearly upset female, jostled with her into the room. The stranger was a sight to behold.
Hair frizzed and sticking out in all directions framed features showing clear signs of dissipation and hard living. The woman’s makeup looked to be applied to merely the top part of her face. Her eyes were outlined in black, highlighted with blue, and had lashes so thickly colored they appeared fake. Her lips lacked any color, and her cheeks were bloodless, giving her the look of an actress only half made up. Sores on her face and neck drew the eye, but Annie had experience with such things from working with Tyler and his teens. She kept her gaze from wandering.
“Can I help you?” Annie enquired, shooting a quick glance at a flustered Sara who had failed to make introductions and looked quite literally speechless.
At first glance, the intruder appeared older than the second look verified. She plopped herself on the chair near Annie’s desk, crossed her arms, and stated, “I’m Mrs. Hugo Montaro. I want to see my husband.”
“Excuse me?” Annie, stunned, needed confirmation. After all, this short, skinny female dressed in tight jeans and a bosom-exposing T-shirt and clutching a dirty camouflage backpack couldn’t possibly be the mother of the two angels Annie had played with and taught at the center. No way!
A beseeching look hidden under her attitude caught Annie’s keen eye, snagged her attention, and had her rearrange the shock on her face.
“I need to talk with my husband, Hugo. I was trying to find his office when this Amazon kidnapped me and dragged me in here. Either bring him to me or I’ll go find him myself.” The trespasser’s voice screeched, a sound both grating and annoying.
Sara piped up, interrupting forcibly. “Annie, Mrs. Montaro demanded to see Hugo, who I know is chairing a contractors’ meeting right at the moment. I brought her to you so she’d have someone to talk to while we get in touch with him.”
Sara’s eye message emphasized that they needed to keep this person quiet and out of sight. Annie caught on at once.
“Right! Thank you, Sara. If you wouldn’t mind getting a message to Hugo personally, I’ll be happy to visit with Mrs. Montaro until he arrives.” She watched the door close behind her departing assistant.
“Can I offer you a coffee or a cold drink while we wait?”
“No! No thanks. Look, I’m sorry to—like, barge in here, but I honestly need Hugo.”
“Please, don’t apologize. I’m happy to chat with you until he comes. Do you live here in New York?” Annie’s tone, friendly and soothing, did the trick and had the woman settling back in her chair.
“I’ve just returned to the city. I’ve been away. I’m sorry. Like, I know I’m a mess, but I need Hugo. Will he be long?”
The woman’s hands moved non-stop, clutching and stroking, clenching and patting at the bag she’d dumped on her lap. Distraught, disheveled, and sickly described her—and scared. Fear clung to her, verified by every movement she made, and it re-appeared strongly every time she looked back at the closed office door. It all registered with Annie instantly. Not having medical knowledge past first aid didn’t qualify her to make assumptions, but having a sensitivity diploma, both as a caring human being and a professional psychologist, she felt in her heart that Hugo’s wife suffered greatly. She moved to sit in the seat next to the unhappy female, clearing her mind so that her eyes reflected only genuine concern.
“My name is Anna Hynes. I work with Hugo, and I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Montaro.” Annie reached over with her hand held in front.
The poor woman looked startled by the inviting hand but slowly grasped it, her small fingers barely holding on for a second. Just long enough for Annie to observe the bitten nails and scabbed skin.
“I’m Elizabeth. Don’t call me Mrs. Montaro. I gave up that right years ago.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and her twitching hands wandered, first rubbing her nose, then her upper arm. Her head jerked periodically, as if an invisible puppet master controlled her.
“Elizabeth? Are you called Beth?” Annie blathered to keep the sad creature focused and calm.
The anxious hands halted. She looked directly at Annie for the first time. A slight smile played at becoming full.
“When I was little, my family called me Beth.” She looked down at her still hands, and appeared bemused to see them unmoving.
Immediately, they reverted to their feverish activity, and her voice roughened. She scratched at her neck, and at the bodice of her shirt. A tattoo of a small heart over her right breast became visible for a second. Annie saw clearly that the two beautifully scrolled initials interwoven above and below the arrow were those o
f Beth and Hugo’s two children.
“They call me Lizzie now.” She interrupted Annie’s meandering thought.
“I prefer Beth. It’s a pretty name, and it suits you.” Annie again captured the restless hands and gently cupped them between her warm ones.
“Thank you. Truly, I’d give anything if I could go back to being Beth. I loved my life then, but I got lost. Like one day I was happy, and the next I was Lizzie. Can you understand?”
Her eyes begged for Annie to say yes, and with total honesty Annie did.
“Yes, Beth. Of course I do. We all get lost sometimes.”
At that moment the door burst open and Hugo, followed by an anxious, pink-cheeked Sara, entered.
“Elizabeth! My God! I can’t believe it. When Sara told me my wife had appeared and asked for me, you could have knocked me over with a small stick. I’ve waited and looked for you for four years. Finally hired a private detective a couple of months ago to start a new search.” The man’s voice sounded raw with emotions.
Annie and Sara snuck out, leaving the couple their privacy. Before the door closed behind them, they couldn’t help but overhear shocking words ranted in a scared female voice.
“Oh, Hugo! Thank God you’re here. Help me, please. I’m in bad trouble.”
Chapter Nine
Tyler couldn’t wait another day to see Annie. He’d had a long talk with himself about his recent rotten behavior and wasn’t too impressed. The emotions of inadequacy and jealousy he’d felt about her moving on had turned him into a person he disliked immensely. The time had come to support her properly—to make his move.
The other night she’d been so proud of her new position, her office and assistant, and he had downplayed it all. What a jerk! He needed to make it up to her. Go visit her new place of work and let her show off her daily environment to him, so they’d have something to talk about. Like they used to talk about the daycare center. He’d visited her there a number of times when picking her up for a date. She’d proudly introduced him to everyone and had happily taken him around the facility to show him where she spent her days.
He needed to let her do that again. Reveal how proud he was of her no matter what her job. Meet the people she spent her days with, so he could envision her at work and in the place that took up all her time. See her big fancy office on the fortieth floor of one of the bigger buildings in downtown Manhattan. Accept that she’d moved on. If the level of remorse he was suffering over his recent treatment of her signaled he cared, then he suspected he wobbled on the brink of actually falling in love.
He’d court her. In the old-fashioned sense, he’d woo her and win her. The idea brought a smile to his face, a lift to his spirits, and a new vitality to his step.
Getting off the elevator on the fortieth floor led him into a large modern office pulsating with a rhythm of busy workers, ringing phones, and overflowing cubicles. He approached the receptionist to ask for directions.
The inquisitive blonde behind the counter-like desk looked up, way up, her expression becoming personal after only a few seconds. She smiled, her head held to the side, flirty-like.
“Hi there! Can I help you?”
He returned her smile and watched her eyes widen. “I’m looking for Annie Hynes’s office.”
“You mean Anna?”
He shrugged. “Yes.” Had his Annie disappeared completely?
“I’m sorry, did you have an appointment? She’s tied up at the moment with her assistant, but they shouldn’t be too long.”
“I’m just a nosy neighbor who wanted to surprise her with an invitation to dinner. Can I wait outside her door?”
“Oh, sure, it’s normally open. You’ll be able to see when she’s free.” Switching her gaze to the computer, she added. “I don’t see her scheduled again for a short while, so you should be able to pop in for a few minutes.” Her manicured fingers waved him to the hallway entrance on her right.
Heading in the direction she’d motioned, he heard words coming from behind and barely audible. “Lucky Anna!” He chuckled softly. His back straightened, his chin rose, and he caught himself strutting down the hallway like some puffed up peacock. Jackass!
There were offices on both sides of the corridor, and he soon found Annie’s. Her name, engraved in gold and displayed on an old-fashioned plaque, hung near the partly opened door he approached. A female form leaned against the frame, half in and half out of the room.
He stopped when he heard Annie speaking. Her voice wasn’t overly loud, but it carried enough for him to hear her refusing to spend the evening with her assistant. She had a date. With some dude called Sergio.
He didn’t wait to hear more.
Chapter Ten
“Celi, do you think I’m ready for this? Dating a handsome bachelor who more than likely expects some form of payment at the end of the night?” Her angel had appeared in her mirror while Annie reapplied her makeup for the third time. Tonight Celi’s outfit reminded her of an Indian-style sari. White gauzy material floated all around her body and over her head to form a veil. Her features were made up like one would expect to see on a woman from that continent—kohl around the eyes, a patch on her forehead, and various jingling trinkets on her wrists and ankles.
“The question here is whether you think you’re ready. It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m just your angel, not your mother. You make your own choices. I can do nothing but watch. Although, truth to tell, most folks do tend to screw up when left to their own devices.” She played the hard-done-by act perfectly, sighing loudly and shaking her head. “Look, have fun, but keep your wits about you.” Her voice hardened for an instant. “I mean it!” She grimaced at Annie’s sour look. “That’s my best advice.”
Perched on the end of the bed, she sat in a cross-legged position, the veil partially covering her face. Tonight she looked ethereal, shimmery, and Annie couldn’t look away.
“Are you going to a masquerade ball?”
The angel made a cheeky face in her direction and grinned. “You’re not my only assignment, you know. There are others out there who have come to my attention. And quit trying to change the subject. Are you ready to move on?”
“I want to be ready. Is that enough?”
“You tell me.”
“By any chance, were you a shrink on earth? You certainly have all the pat you-figure-it-out-’cause-I-can’t-be-bothered answers.”
“Temper! Temper!” Her laughing reply teased, and her gentle smack on the back of Annie’s head registered before she faded. “Be true to yourself, Annie, and you’ll be fine.”
Sometime later, Annie opened her front door to Sergio posing in the doorway. His body leaned casually against the doorjamb while his arms were folded in front as if his next action was to whistle.
Flummoxed, Annie didn’t quite know what he expected, an invitation to come in, or applause. Nerves played havoc from the back of her stiff neck to her sacroiliac. Tense and uncertain, she felt herself hesitate. What to do? After all, tomboy to socialite didn’t happen overnight. In the office, she’d know what to say and wouldn’t have had a problem opening the conversation. Entertaining a date—now that was a completely different matter. Shyness held her tongue, and the sweat on her palms gathered.
Patiently, Sergio preened and waited. Did he think her speechless with admiration? She grinned, and he must have taken it as a sign of pleasure in his appearance. He stood taller, sucking in his stomach—inflating his oversized chest and ego.
She couldn’t decide whether his behavior should be registered under cute or dumb. She knew what Tyler would have said. The thought made her blush and look away so Sergio couldn’t read the dismay in her eyes.
His open-collared pink shirt, tailored slacks, and the creamy sweater looped over his shoulders made one think of a model for a magazine advertising men’s cologne. His grooming had to have taken hours. Not a hair out of place, and no fleck marred his clothes. Male perfection intimidated Annie, made her nervous. Tyler never uns
ettled her. Even if his normal attire of jeans and body-fitting, casual shirts didn’t rank in the “Black Book” Esquire issued twice a year, he had way too much class.
“Say something.”
“Celi! Oh, God, you’re here!”
“No. Just little ole’ me, Angel First Class.”
“How can you joke at a time like this? What do I do with him?”
“How about inviting him in, silly girl?”
“Right!”
“Hi, Sergio. Please come in. I—I wasn’t sure where we were going. I hope this dress will be suitable?” Her light turquoise dress of silky polyester had looked modern and tasteful earlier as she’d surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. A flowing skirt reached just above the knee and gathered at the waist under a wide belt, then softly pleated to wrap around her neck, leaving her shoulders and back bare. The pretty stiletto heels matched the dress and were a menace to walk in—the price of perfection. Not her normal style, but Susan at Lord & Taylor had assessed the whole package, scoring it as perfect for her new image.
“You look beautiful, Anna.” His smooth, accentuated voice growled the words theatrically, and he rubbed his hands together in a prayer-like position. His approach seemed fake, even silly, but, funnily enough, sounded appropriate coming from him.
Her nerves leapt. Agitation fought battles with common sense and won. An army of goose bumps traveled up her back and down her arms, only stopping when she massaged them briskly.
Random thoughts popped into her mind. What am I doing with this stranger? I want Tyler.
“Thank you. You look nice, too. Do we have time for a glass of wine before we leave?”
“Sure. I made the reservations at The Orchard for eight. The restaurant has a great menu, and serves one of my favorite dishes, Brigadeiros. It reminds me of home. Have you ever tried them?”