Ambereye

by Gill McKnight

  Let’s see you call me Glassy again, big gal. “Well, I better be on my way. Have a nice weekend, Jolie.” Hope gave a megawatt smile as she used Jolie’s first name for the first time.

  “Hmm-mmm…” Jolie’s voice struggled to surface. “You too, Ho…Ho…Ho…”

  C’mon, Santa. You can do it. Hope encouraged her with an even brighter smile.

  “H…Hope.” Jolie grabbed at the name with a puff of relief.

  There ya go. You can remember it when you have to. Hope beamed approval. The lesson had been learned and would never, ever, be forgotten. It was not as scary as Hope thought it would be. Well, at least not for her.

  Happily humming, Hope entered the elevator a few minutes later.

  She turned just in time to see Jolie hightail it across the office floor to her brother’s door. She looked considerably agitated. The elevator doors slid slowly closed on the little tableau, and Hope broke into a chirpy whistle.

  “Choroidal melanoma. It’s an eye cancer,” Andre said bluntly.

  “And it’s very rare to have to undergo enucleation. Only about six percent of people have to have the eye removed. Unfortunately, Hope fell into that group. Her melanoma was a large one, and was too close to her optic nerve. They told her radiation would only delay the inevitable, and there was always the threat that the cancer could spread into her socket. After weighing up the options, she made the call all by herself.”

  He was worried at his sister’s response to this news. She had blasted into his office like an express train out of a tight tunnel, genuinely upset.

  “She’s been exceptionally brave,” he added unnecessarily, but he wanted Jolie to realize and appreciate the exceptional caliber of Hope Glassy. He had witnessed her brusque behavior toward Hope these past two weeks and it annoyed him that Jolie still couldn’t see how essential Hope was to both her and the project. Never mind that Hope was a perfectly lovely person to work with. If someone like Candace had been teamed with Jolie they’d both be in straitjackets by now, and Andre would be gargling Valium.

  “Shit.” Jolie sat opposite him, her initial shock turning to anger.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” She twisted her wolf head ring frantically.

  “I did. I told you ages ago. When she had the operation.”

  “You said your friend was having an oper—Oh.”

  Andre raised his eyebrows as the penny finally dropped. “Hope is a close friend of Godfrey and I. She’s been my buddy for over twelve years, Jolie.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh. And wait for it…she has worked at Ambereye since its startup. Okay? Gonna fall over?”

  “Well, I never saw her before.” Jolie became increasingly angry and flustered.

  “Unless a person reports directly to you with a file at least five feet thick and an éclair in their pocket, I don’t think you’d notice anybody.”

  “The éclair jibe’s unfair,” she said, still fiddling with her ring.

  Andre looked on sympathetically as she struggled with her ignorance of Hope’s situation. He was waiting for the surliness she always hid behind to propel her from the room in an offended huff. That was her usual way of dealing with emotional discomfort—run from it in anger. Jolie was not an emotionally complex person. She had only two options open to her: coping, and not coping. What he was seeing today was new behavior. Jolie was trying to accommodate this new information about Hope. That had to be a step in the right direction.

  I bet she’ll never forget who Hope Glassy is from this day on, he mused. Hope was a genius at handling Jolie. He should have teamed them up years ago.

  “So…is there anything I need to do around her?” Jolie asked gruffly. “Anything special?”

  Andre shrugged, surprised at this turnaround. He’d expected Jolie to be sulking in her office by now, not sitting here asking what were, for her, sensitive questions.

  “She told me she didn’t need anything. Just not to creep up on the left side, as it startles her. She puts mirrors around her cubicle to help with that.”

  “Oh. That makes sense. I thought she was snubbing me that first morning, but I must have been outside of her peripheral vision.” Jolie seemed pleased with her conclusion. She stood to leave but hesitated.

  “One more thing. If anyone calls her Glasseye within my hearing, I’ll fling them out the nearest window.”

  Andre frowned at this. “No one has ever called Hope that as far as I’m aware.” He stared at her in confusion.

  “I’m just saying.” She was awkwardly defensive. “Nickname or not. I don’t want to hear her called that. So warn your staff, or the monkeys around here will be flying ones.”

  He was still staring after she left. What the hell was she going on about? Nicknames? He’d have to check it with Hope. But it amused him how Jolie was now so overprotective of her PA, when only weeks ago she’d been screaming at him for appointing her one at all. Strange how the territory changed.

  Early Monday morning, Jolie found Hope already at her desk collating Friday’s end-of-week figures, as promised. She approached cautiously, trying not to clumsily overcompensate for Hope’s curtailed field of vision. She was also uncertain how frostily she’d be welcomed.

  “Good morning,” Hope called over her shoulder without looking up from her monitor.

  “Humph.” Jolie grunted, and ducked into her office. There, her eyes alighted on the Danish pastry and coffee sitting on her desk. Her shoulders relaxed. She had been tense all weekend without really realizing it until now.

  Some part of her had been worried she had been irredeemably insensitive to her assistant. She liked the young woman. She liked her a lot. She was efficient and hardworking, and seemed in sync with Jolie’s own work habits and moods. Even after a few weeks, Jolie did not want to lose that synchronicity over a social gaffe she’d not even known she’d made. It’s Hope, not Glassy. And not Glasseye! Just Hope. She sat at her desk. Hope was a nice name.

  Munching on her breakfast, as she had come to think of it, she took a surreptitious look through the office window at Hope Glassy.

  She noted things about her that hadn’t registered before, like the little mirrors strategically located around Hope’s desk to help her see people approaching on her blind side. The careful way she moved around the office, each step calculated and deliberate. She must worry about falling or tripping. Jolie frowned at the thought. She didn’t want Hope to hurt herself. It must be hard to adapt to such a life change. Nevertheless, Hope always had a big, bright smile that engaged others effortlessly, along with her cheerful voice and happy laugh. Hope was a popular person, a likeable person. She connected with people on some strange level that was alien to Jolie.

  Sipping the dregs of her coffee, Jolie sat and watched as every single member of staff passed by Hope’s desk on their way in, and offered her some sort of comment, or joke, or smile in greeting.

  Suddenly Jolie realized she was smiling right along with them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next few weeks were very productive. People were shouted at, deadlines met, new deadlines drawn up, reports were presented and dismissed as utter rubbish. But Jolie Garoul’s project crept along on track, and therefore the world kept spinning.

  Wednesday morning she came over to Hope’s desk, deliberately approaching from the right-hand side, to ask after a PowerPoint presentation.

  “It’s done. And I’ve printed you out a copy so you can add notes in big, red, angry marker pen. Here.” Hope clamped the sheaves together with the new stapler she had bought for herself. A plastic wolf’s paw, a novelty stationery item, more toy than tool. She’d noticed Jolie’s interest in wolves early on, like the silver letter opener and the Wolves of the Americas desk calendar and mug, not to mention the chunky ring she wore on her pinky.

  The bait worked. Jolie fixated on the pop and crunch of the toy as her draft copy was stapled together. Her jaw relaxed and her lips pursed into a soft, round O. Hope watched all this in her little mirror
s with a small smile.

  “Where’d you get that?” Jolie nodded at the gray plastic paw, trying clumsily to hide her covetousness. “Do they have them in the stationery cupboard?”

  “This thing? No, it’s just a cheap stapler I picked up at Wal-Mart. I seem to have lost my good one.” Hope handed over the papers and shut the wolf paw away in her top drawer with a decisive click. Jolie watched it disappear.

  “Mmm, the chrome one? I think it’s sitting on my desk. Hang on.”

  She bounded into her office with a few long strides, returning almost immediately with Hope’s original stapler.

  “Is this it?” she mumbled, handing it over. “You must have left it there.”

  Hope raised an eyebrow at the blatant, awkward lie. Jolie’s cheeks reddened but she said nothing further, just stood and waited.

  “So it is. Thank you.” Hope opened her top drawer and placed this stapler in beside the plastic one. She felt Jolie’s eyes glued to her every move. Jolie continued to hover, even after collecting her papers.

  “You’ve got two now.”

  “Mmm.” Hope nodded, leaving the drawer partway open so both staplers peeped out tantalizingly. She turned her attention to her next job. Jolie watched her intently for a few seconds more before turning slowly away.

  Hope counted to three, then, just as Jolie’s back was fully turned, she murmured, “Unless—”

  “Huh?” Jolie spun back round far too quickly, her face eager and hopeful. Hope smiled again; it was like shooting fish in a barrel.

  Malleable, stupid, doofus-type fish.

  “Unless you want the wolf paw one?” Hope reached in her drawer and lifted out the piece of plastic junk.

  “Hey. Can I?” Jolie accepted it gratefully, her eyes shining like a kid’s on Christmas morning.

  “Of course. I don’t need two staplers, and I prefer my old one.”

  Hope smiled and handed over the coveted item.

  “Thanks. Saves me a trip to Wal-Mart.” Jolie grinned and disappeared into her office with her new treasure.

  Hope watched her go, shaking her head at such an easy play. There was a childlike quality to Jolie that Hope suspected was seldom seen by others. She had a sort of awkward charm that when it did surface, which was rare, Hope found totally intriguing. No two days were ever the same when you worked for Jolie Garoul.

  Sliding the drawer shut with a contented clunk, she hoped she was securing her chrome stapler in its proper home once and for all. She’s attractive when she smiles. Let’s hope that toy keeps her Velcro fingers out of my cubicle for at least a day or two.

  Andre noticed slight changes in Jolie. Her step was lighter, her posture less tight. She moved around the general office with a fluid grace, her sphere of comfort for once bigger than her own four walls where she usually hid. And her eyes sparkled. It seemed she was enjoying herself, rather than being buried alive in that cesspit of stress she was practically addicted to. He needed to investigate this new phenomenon further.

  He dropped by her office on impulse late Friday afternoon. “Jolie, what are your plans for tonight?” She shrugged.

  “Thought I’d go over the finances. Why?”

  “Ptooie to that. Come over for dinner. Godfrey says he’s got a nice salmon from the market.” He was rewarded with a bright smile. A rare reward indeed.

  “Okay. Do I need to bring anything?” she said.

  “A crisp white.”

  “What? Tablecloth?”

  “No, an unoaked Sauvignon, smart-ass.” Walking back to his own office, he shook his head in amazement. Jolie was actually joking with him. And on a workday.

  “So, what do you make of our Hope?” Godfrey fussed over the serving dishes. “These vegetables have been basking in a lemon and chive marinade all day. Then slow roasted for twenty minutes before adding the salmon fillets.”

  “You make it sound more like a beauty spa than a kitchen.” Andre poured the wine.

  “The love comes out in the taste. Of course, to know that, you’d have to chew,” Godfrey responded primly. His spouse and sister-in-law were notorious hogs.

  “So?” Looking for interesting dinner conversation he turned his attention back to Jolie, who was overloading her plate, as usual. But then Andre was piling his high, too. Godfrey sighed at their juvenile competitiveness. Another of their family traits, along with dark good looks, a passionate temper, and that other thing decent people don’t mention over dinner—lycanthropy.

  “What do you make of Hope?” he said again.

  “She bought me a wolf paw stapler,” Jolie said. Godfrey’s brow creased and he shot a quick look at Andre, who grinned complacently back.

  “A stapler? You remember what we told you about strangers and candy? Well, the same goes for shiny things.” Godfrey clucked, looking for an opening to winkle out what he really wanted to know.

  “She gives me candy, too. Well, pastries and doughnuts. With coffee,” Jolie said proudly, between mouthfuls. “And the coffee’s always just the way I like it.”

  Godfrey flashed another questioning glance at Andre, who sat grinning smugly across the table. Andre seemed happy to let Jolie speak for herself, letting her dump herself neck deep into one of Godfrey’s verbal ambushes.

  “Wow. Somebody knows how to look after their boss.” Godfrey responded to Jolie’s enthusiasm appropriately. Hope had obviously realized early on, as he had, that the Garouls were best managed well fed. “And what nice things do you do for her? Remember, she has been very ill.”

  Jolie’s fork hesitated and she frowned. Andre grinned.

  “Here it comes,” he murmured.

  “I let her have my new chair.” She glared over at Andre as he choked, grappling for his water glass.

  “Here.” Godfrey handed him a clean linen napkin before turning his full attention to Jolie. “I heard about the chair, dear. That’s not really giving, now, is it? That’s more like surrendering.” Jolie blinked at him.

  “I mean, have you gone out of your way to show her how important she is to you? How much you appreciate her work and effort? Hope’s been exceptionally brave. Every few months she has to go for scans to make sure she is still cancer free. But she insisted on returning to work as soon as possible when she heard Ambereye had landed a massive project. Your project, by the way. I hope you are showing her your appreciation with lots of praise and attention and, of course, little treats.” He raised his eyebrows at her in gentle reprimand.

  “My team gets doughnuts…every day,” Jolie said a little contritely.

  Godfrey’s eyebrows rose even higher as he held her gaze. Across the table Andre laughed into his napkin.

  “Okay, maybe Hope does that, too,” she mumbled, throwing a warning look over at Andre.

  “You need to add some sugar to your spice, hon,” Godfrey said.

  “I’ve known Hope for years, and she’s such a gorgeous person everyone wants her. You need to bind her loyalty to you and treat her right. Or else she’ll be back in Andre’s office after this project’s over…” He allowed his words to taper off, watching Jolie’s alarm register first, before landing his killer blow. “And you’ll have Candace.”

  The alarm spun off into shock, quickly followed by red-faced anger.

  “No.” Jolie threw down her fork in disgust. “Hope’s mine. You can’t have her.” She glared at Andre.

  “It’s up to her, Jolie. After this project, Hope can make up her own mind.” Andre gave an elegant shrug. “If she wasn’t on sick leave when we started, you wouldn’t have had her at all. I love working with her—”

  “I love working with her more.” Jolie thumbed herself in the chest.

  Again Andre shrugged but said nothing.

  “Well, let’s hope it’s mutual, and you’ll have no worries. We’ve got homemade apple pie for dessert. Coffee anyone?” Godfrey closed the discussion now that Jolie had gotten the message.

  Hope was perturbed. Jolie had been in a massive sulk all week.

  Work
went on as usual, becoming even more streamlined as they grew used to each other’s methods. Hope congratulated herself on housetraining her new boss in record time, considering Jolie was half feral when she got her. But recently, every time she looked up, Jolie was staring mournfully at her through the glass-paneled door which had stayed firmly shut all week—an indicator, Hope now recognized, of Jolie’s more morose moods. She seemed out of sorts with Andre, too.

  Jolie had canceled her working lunch dates with Andre, a big deal, as food and work were her two favorite things. She had also screened his calls all week until he eventually walked across to her office to talk to her, whereupon she immediately had something important to do elsewhere, and left him standing.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” Hope stood at Andre’s office door. It was late Thursday afternoon and she was on her way home. It had been a long, hard day and she was looking forward to an evening date with Godfrey. Andre looked up.

  “She’s huffing at me.”

  “Duh. Why?”

  “Last week, I happened to mention over dinner you were coming back to work for me once this project’s done. So she stomped her dainty size twelves, ate all my food, and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

  “Ah, I think I see a pattern here. First my chair, then my stapler, now me. She has a fetish for office accoutrements. Don’t tease her, Andy, I could well end up locked in her filing cabinet, only allowed out to take minutes and memos.”

  “And fetch cookies,” he added solemnly.

  “Yes, let’s not forget my fiendish secret weapon. Worked on you, too, remember?” She smiled, and with a little wave good-bye, headed for the elevators.

  Andre watched her leave. With an assessing gay man’s eye he examined the sexy, hourglass body walking away from him. Hope was a good-looking woman. She was not a classic beauty, but her warmth and positivity gave her an attractiveness that lured in suitors—of both sexes, much to Hope’s vexation. She was a walking honey trap, but only had treats for the girls.