by Gail Sattler
In the silence of the empty office, Monty smirked to himself as he held up the disks for his new game, “Prince’s Perils.” The youth group had enjoyed it, and since its conception, he had added a number of revisions and modifications, not to mention a major name change, although he still had to admit he liked the original name. He only needed to run a few more tests, and he would be ready to register the copyright and then market the game. He patted his pocket with great satisfaction, especially considering his sour mood at his initial inspiration for the concept of the game.
Monty reached toward his filing cabinet, unconsciously using his left foot to steady himself against the chair leg as he opened the drawer. A sharp stab of pain as he pulled caused him to freeze and catch his breath. He forced himself to exhale while the pain subsided. It served as a poignant reminder to be more careful, even with these simple automatic actions.
He’d nearly forgotten what it had been like in the first month he was finally able to return to the office. This time, though, he anticipated a quicker recovery. Fortunately, today he already felt better than yesterday.
Cindy was right, he had been feeling sorry for himself. He’d almost thought he was losing it, but he’d looked up possible side effects of the medications, and one of them was depression. Now that he knew, he could deal with it.
Glasses perched on his nose, he raised his hands to the keyboard, ready to begin typing, when Agnes burst through the main door, earlier than usual, he noted. She stomped past her desk, scooped something out of her basket, and then strode straight for him. He had hoped to clear up some of the backlog before he had to deal with whatever Agnes had accumulated in his absence.
He laid his glasses on the desktop, folded his hands, and rested them on the edge of the keyboard as she barged into his office. “Good morning, Agnes. And what volume of urgent correspondence do you have for me today?”
“What are you doing here, Montgomery?”
“So glad to see you, too, and it is a good morning.” He tried very hard not to laugh as Agnes’s expression tightened. Where was this woman when he was growing up? He wondered about her children, and most of all, her husband, who surely had a backbone of steel. They were celebrating their anniversary soon, according to Agnes, thirty-five wonderful years, although he couldn’t imagine thirty-five years with her being “wonderful.”
Agnes crossed her arms, frowning at him. “Very funny.”
He smiled in answer to her scowl. “I’m attempting to get caught up, Agnes. Shouldn’t you be, too?”
She dropped a veritable mountain of paper on the corner of his desk. “I am caught up.”
Monty lost his self-satisfied smirk and sagged, letting out a rush of air. “What’s all this?”
“You left early Friday, remember. And you left on time every day of the week except one. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you hadn’t done anything on the weekend. Or the last three days. And don’t think I can’t tell when you’re here all weekend, or working at home and networking it over here.”
He groaned.
She placed her palm on his computer monitor, feeling its temperature. He’d just turned it on, so it was still cold. “You just got here. Or you would have already known what I was going to give you. Do you have any idea how far behind you’re getting?”
Monty dragged one hand down his face. “I give up. Hire someone. I can start interviews immediately. Cancel my appointments for the rest of the week unless they want to come here, and make sure none of them are for lunch. Rebook the rest. I’m not leaving my office. I don’t care if they say it’s urgent.”
“That does it. Now I know you’re not supposed to be out of bed. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“Agnes, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re. . . You’re. . .” Agnes’s eyes widened, and her frown was replaced by a glowing smile. She raised her palms to her cheeks. “You’re in LOOOOOOVE!”
Monty buried his face in his hands. His private life was just that. Private. He was their boss, not their pal, and that meant he kept his distance, which was the way he preferred things anyway.
He raised his head and opened his mouth, but Agnes beat him to it.
“It’s about time.” She wagged one finger in the air.
“Don’t you have some work to do?”
She shook her head. “It’s all done. And sitting on the corner of your desk.”
“Agnes, you’re fired.”
As usual, Agnes ignored him. She patted the top of the pile, then dutifully straightened it, matching up the papers to form a perfect stack. “The courier will be here in two hours for these letters.”
He sighed loudly, welcoming the change of topic. “They’ll be ready, Agnes.”
“And don’t forget your appointment with Dennis Bancroft. He’ll be here at ten o’clock. I heard he recently got married.” She sighed airily.
Monty ignored her not-so-subtle hint. Besides, the idea of getting married now appealed to him like never before. “Thank you, Agnes.”
“Let me remind you that the Carolina project is due in three days. I’ve ordered another case of blanks for tomorrow and I placed another order with the printer for the instruction manuals. The latest figures indicate it’s another winner. I knew it would be.”
“Thank you, Agnes.”
“And if you want my opinion on the Debonair contract. . .”
Monty couldn’t stand it anymore. He opened his mouth to tell her he knew exactly what was lined up, but she beat him to the draw again.
“Never mind. I’ll send you an E-mail.”
He glanced at her desk across the room. He didn’t doubt that she would.
Agnes patted the pile of paperwork once more, turned, and left. Despite her sharp tongue and questionable respect for his position, Monty appreciated her from the depths of his heart. She had proven herself to be an invaluable asset to both the company and to him personally. He made himself a note to give her a gift on her anniversary and began signing the letters.
He managed to work without interruption all morning, except for the few minutes he set aside every day to phone the florist.
Knowing he wasn’t going to be mobile enough to take Cindy out for lunch made him miss her even more. He’d taken her out almost every day last week, a habit he could quickly get used to. If he closed his eyes, he could picture her smile. Monty picked up the phone and dialed Circuits, Inc.
Twelve
Cindy ran her fingers on the velvety petals and inhaled the heady fragrance of the latest bouquet. This time it was three roses, red, yellow, and white. The very first bouquet he had sent was a dozen roses. She hadn’t thought twice about it then, other than to admire their simple beauty. This time the thought terrified her. Roses were the flowers of love.
Rather than dwell on it, she convinced herself that the florist had simply run out of different variations; after all, by now Monty surely had used up all combinations of flowers in his chosen pattern of colors.
No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, she couldn’t get Monty out of her head. Despite her best efforts to submerge herself in her job, every time she moved, their heady aroma drifted toward her, teasing her, reminding her of him. She placed the flowers on the farthest corner of her desk, but it didn’t help. As the temperature rose outside, the air-conditioning kicked on, blowing the fragrance on her anyway.
Cindy couldn’t stand it. She was about to give them to one of the secretaries when the phone rang.
“Hi, Cindy,” a flowing deep voice purred over the phone. “Busy for lunch?”
Just what she didn’t need today. “Hello, Glen. I’ll see if Robert is free.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, she hit the hold button and buzzed Robert’s office. Before she replaced the handset, the second line lit up.
“Hi, Cindy. I miss you.”
A shiver ran through her, but she didn’t know if it was anticipation or a bad case of nerves. “Hi, Monty. Robert’s line is busy. Wo
uld you like to hold?”
“I’m not calling for Robert. I want to talk to you.”
Her heart pounded and she willed her hands to stop shaking, but they couldn’t, so she held onto the phone with both hands for dear life, swiveling in the chair so the other secretaries couldn’t watch her as she spoke. “Sounds like you’re feeling better. How are you? I guess you’re calling from the office.”
“Yes, I’m feeling much better. I’d really like to take you out for lunch, but I’m confining myself to my office at least until the end of the week. Would you like to pick something up and join me here? Or I can have something delivered, whichever you prefer.”
“I think I’d prefer to. . .” She swallowed a breath of air. “I’m really too busy. I’m going to work through lunch.”
“Oh.”
He sounded so disappointed she almost gave in. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now. I’ll catch you another time, okay?”
“Oh. Okay. Well, another time. Bye, Cindy.”
She mumbled a quick good-bye and hung up the phone. She felt like a heel.
By the time lunch rolled around, Cindy’s stomach rumbled. To make matters worse, she’d been so distracted when she left the house that she’d forgotten her lunch on the counter.
She hadn’t lied. She really was busy, although not so busy that she was required to work through lunch break. However, rather than make a liar out of herself, she ran across the street to the deli for a sandwich, intending to run back and eat it at her desk while she worked. As she stood in line, Troy appeared beside her.
“Buying a sub at the lowly local deli?” He glanced behind them at the growing line, then back to her. “Not going out with Mr. Upwardly Mobile today?”
“Troy, stop it.”
They stepped forward as the line moved. “So, is this thing with him serious?”
“Thing?” Cindy cringed. The word made the relationship sound cheap and tawdry. Monty’s intentions were nothing but honorable, however misplaced. She’d never met anyone like him before and likely never would again. The “thing” between them would have been perfect, if not for his angel delusions.
“I don’t know,” she replied, not knowing what to say to Troy. Not that it mattered. The “thing” was now over.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering why I’m asking.”
Cindy didn’t think she wanted to hear it, but she could no longer handle Troy’s animosity toward Monty. Monty may have been living in a fantasy about her, but he didn’t deserve the way Troy was treating him. “Not really. But you’re probably going to tell me anyway.”
He glanced from side to side, then back to Cindy. “I’m only saying this as a friend.” He paused as they stepped forward in the line. They were next.
“Go ahead,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
Troy hunched his shoulders to minimize his height. After spending so much time with Monty, looking eye to eye with him, she wasn’t used to Troy’s height anymore. The thought scared her.
“What do you know about him? Are you sure he’s not just using you?”
“Using me?”
“You know, to get to Blackmore through you. Blackmore is a very powerful entity in the business world, and whoever gets that contract stands to make a small fortune. Monty isn’t the type you’d usually go out with, nor do you seem the type he’d have in his regular social circles.”
Cindy would have laughed if Troy hadn’t been so serious. She really didn’t go out with anybody, and the last person she’d been out with was Troy, and that only on a friendly basis. If anyone wasn’t her type, it was Troy. “Nothing like the type I usually go out with? And what type do I go out with? You mean he’s nothing like you.”
The person in front of them stepped away. They cut their conversation off abruptly as they placed their orders, then waited for the clerk to assemble the submarine sandwiches, giving Cindy time to think without Troy talking.
Troy hadn’t seen Monty the way she had. The first time he’d walked into the office to see Robert, she’d never in her life seen anyone so shaken. And now that she knew Monty, she knew how hard he must have been trying to keep his image dignified and professional. She wished she knew if it was the simple shock of seeing someone he’d never expected to ever meet or seeing his special angel at work at a very mortal job.
The opposite of Troy’s suspicions, Monty didn’t need her to win favor with Robert. It was the other way around. Robert constantly told her how much he trusted and respected Monty, what an asset their association would be, and then proceeded to tell her how compatible she’d be with Monty. If she questioned anyone’s motives, it would be Robert’s. He’d delivered her right into Monty’s lap, hand-carrying the contract twice.
Every time she thought of Monty, she dearly wished they could have met another way, although it was pointless to pray for a past that could not be changed.
Troy’s voice startled Cindy back to the present.
“I’m paying for both of those,” he said to the clerk as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He handed Cindy the bag containing her sandwich, she mumbled a thank-you, and they walked back across the street together.
“Now, where were we?” he asked as he opened the main door for her.
“You were telling me the type of man I go out with, I do believe.” Cindy couldn’t help her scathing tone and hoped Troy could tell how annoyed she was with his insinuation.
“Why do I get the feeling you think I’m wrong?”
“I don’t just think you’re wrong, Troy. I know you’re wrong.”
“How do you know his intentions are honorable?”
Of that she had no doubt. The only thing she couldn’t be sure of was the reality of his perception of her as an ordinary and very human person. “He’s honorable.”
“I still think he’s putting the moves on you to gain favor with Blackmore.”
Cindy couldn’t stand it anymore. Not that she owed Troy an explanation, but his mistrust of Monty cut her to the core. “Remember last fall, that bad car accident on the way home from first aid practice?”
Troy nodded.
Her voice dropped to a hoarse croak. It was a night she would never forget for the rest of her life. “The injured man was Monty. When he came to see Robert to discuss that contract, he recognized me.”
The elevator door opened and Cindy hustled in. She turned as the door swooshed closed, just in time to see Troy standing with his mouth open, but no sound coming out.
❧
Cindy smiled at the delivery man, then set the latest vase of flowers on the corner of her desk. This time, she had no idea what the exotic variety was called, but they were beautiful, fragrant, and probably outrageously expensive. And they were red and white and yellow.
Her heart ached as she inhaled their sweet perfume. She hadn’t seen Monty for nearly a week. He’d called her a few times at work, but she’d been able to get off the phone quickly, knowing how much respect Monty held for the sanctity of company time.
When Monty called her last night at home, she’d almost been rude to him. She contributed very little to the conversation, then claimed she planned to go to bed early. Instead of sleeping, she stared at the ceiling most of the night.
She couldn’t continue this way. It was too hard on both of them.
If she continued to see him, the day would soon come for her to fall off the high pedestal Monty unwittingly placed her on, and when that happened, she wouldn’t be able to bear his disappointment. Yet, she couldn’t continue to avoid him without making a clean break. She missed him so much her heart felt like it was already broken. She didn’t know which was worse.
Rather than dwell on it, Cindy busied herself with the ever-growing pile of correspondence on her desk. Almost ready to hit the print button, out of the corner of her eye she saw a tall man in a dark suit striding toward Robert’s office door.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Glen Evans. Just the person she didn’t need to see today.
In a flash she stepped in front of Robert’s door, blocking the entrance. “Hello, Glen. Do you have an appointment?” she asked, knowing he didn’t.
“He’ll see me.”
Cindy counted to ten in her head and looked up at Glen, who was as tall as Troy. “Please have a seat and I’ll buzz him first.” Glen knew the routine, so she didn’t know why he still played these power games.
She waited for him to sit before she told Robert he was there.
With her hands folded on the desk, she stiffened her back and did her best to smile politely. “Mr. Blackmore requests that you come back in fifteen minutes.”
Glen glared at her. “I have nowhere to go for fifteen minutes. I’ll wait here.” Glen crossed his long legs and smiled at her, inviting her to carry on a conversation.
“There are some magazines over there.” Cindy returned his smile, then nearly fainted when she looked at the table. Except for the “Thank You For Not Smoking” sign she’d put there for Robert, her whole pile was gone except for one old Christmas issue of a women’s magazine, making her wonder where her stockpile had disappeared. If she found them in the lunchroom, she just might scream.
“I guess I’ll just have to sit here and watch you work.” He never lost his insipid grin.
Cindy tried her best, but she couldn’t type with him watching her like a hawk. Finally, she held her hands in midair above her computer and glowered at him. All he did was flash a dashing smile at her.
“Do you mind?” she asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt.
“Not at all. I like watching you.” His smile widened.
Cindy’s hands landed palms down on the desktop. “If you’re that desperate, maybe I’ve got a book in my purse you can browse through.”
He leaned forward. “What kind of book?” he whispered suggestively.
Cindy ground her teeth as she searched through her purse. “Actually, all I’ve got is my pocket Bible. It has real small print, but it’s full of great reading material.”
Glen’s little smirk dropped, then resumed. He must have thought she was kidding, but she wasn’t. He leaned back in the chair, twining his fingers behind his head. “No thanks, I’d rather watch you.”