Francis walked out and I followed after him. Once down the stairs, he went his own way and I headed for the door to find a delivery man with a huge wrapped package.
“Who’s it from?” I asked the delivery man.
He pointed to a name on the release form.
The package read it had come from Jaime’s art gallery. I assumed it was a painting Mrs. Gallagher had purchased but when I went to sign, I noticed it was addressed to me.
“Wait, it says the package is for me,” I said.
“Sign here please.” The delivery man couldn’t be bothered.
I signed for it and picked it up, taking it upstairs to my office. When I set it down, I stared at it for a few minutes wondering if it was Jaime who’d sent it to me. I found it odd she’d sent it to the Gallagher residence rather than my house.
Deciding to open it, I carefully tore open the wrapping paper and stared at the painting in a little bit of surprise. My memory went back to the first time Jaime had taken me to her storage to show me the paintings that had been chosen for the exhibition.
I remembered joking about the only kind of painting I could do and her explaining it to me. She’d called it action painting, where paint is spontaneously smeared onto canvas.
There was a painting that had been behind her, which had fired up the whole flirting thing, and she’d ended up saying she’d be happy to teach me how to do those kinds of paintings.
I couldn’t believe she remembered. I couldn’t believe she’d sent me the painting. I’d call her up later on when I got home to thank her and maybe even make plans for that second date since Mrs. Gallagher hadn’t confirmed about the opera.
She’d been gone all day. She usually had a busy schedule, meeting with her high society friends at their rich folk members’ country club, attending business meetings and planning charitable causes among other things.
She hadn’t said a word to me about the opera, so I thought she’d forgotten she’d invited me. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d never been in such a situation before. Maybe she’d invited me because there was some work-related issue she needed to deal with and my presence was necessary.
I honestly didn’t know what to think. Mrs. Gallagher wasn’t like anyone I’d ever come across before. I couldn’t guess with her. She wasn’t a straightforward type of person and it was a bit unnerving trying to figure her out. Her personality and nature were foreign to me.
I decided to go down to the kitchen to get myself a bottle of water. My afternoon wasn’t as busy as the morning had been, which I appreciated because I needed the free time to study.
The house was deserted. I couldn’t even find Francis to ask for directions. I’d never toured it. The only place I knew how to get to was my office, Mrs. Gallagher’s office and the bathroom because those were the only places I’d been to since I’d started working there.
I was down at the foyer trying to figure out which direction the kitchen could be when someone spoke.
“Can I help you find something?”
I turned towards the side the voice had come from and froze when I met Mrs. Gallagher’s son. “Uh, hi, I’m Olivia.”
He slowly approached me and I grew a little nervous. He looked like a cleaner serious version of Vampire Diaries’ Ian Somerhalder with dark intense eyes, short but tidy hair with a much more formal wardrobe.
“I work for your Mom.” I didn’t know why it felt like I’d just been caught doing something wrong.
“You’re her personal assistant,” he said.
“Yes.”
He stretched out his arm to shake mine.
“I’m Jonah,” he said.
I closed my hand over his. “I was uh,” I looked around the large foyer and remembered what I’d been searching for. “I was looking for the kitchen.”
He nodded, letting go of my hand as he said, “This way.”
I didn’t want to inconvenience him, but I didn’t want to turn down offered help either. “Thank you,” I said.
If I’d gone looking for the kitchen myself, I would’ve gotten lost because we went through a large dining room and walked past it into a very clean and very nice-looking kitchen. It seemed like no expense had been spared when building the house.
“How do you like working for my Mom?” he asked.
There was a long countertop in the middle splitting the room in two, but it left enough space for one to go around it.
One side had very modern cooking appliances, I almost didn’t notice the human-sized two-door fridge until Jonah opened it because it was installed into a wall. The other side had more space with a small dining table and other kitchen paraphernalia.
There were several stools along the countertop that looked like they’d been glued to the floor, I walked over and sat on one. “I like it,” I said, answering Jonah’s question.
“You don’t think she’s a demanding boss?” he asked.
Even if she was, I couldn’t tell him so. She was his mother. “No, not really.” Plus, I’d worked for worse employers. Mrs. Gallagher was a peach compared to anyone I’d ever worked for.
“Are you just saying that because I’m her son?” he asked, handing me a bottle of water.
I looked at him, unsure of how to answer his question because my answer would compromise me. “I should get back to work,” I said.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, seemingly amused by unsuccessful attempt to evade his question.
“No, I mean…” I trailed my thoughts back to his earlier question before the follow-ups. “Your Mom is a great boss, better than anyone I’ve ever worked for.”
The amusement in his eyes seemed to disappear at my answer, as he made his way over to me. “I saw you a couple of weeks ago at the ball,” he said.
The only part of the night I best remembered was kissing Mrs. Gallagher. The memory sent chills through me at the possibility of him having seen us.
“I think she was impressed,” he said.
He was looking at me so intensely when he said that, I had to look away. “Thank you for the water,” I said.
He nodded and I took a step back and turned to leave.
“Olivia,” I stopped to look at him. “It was nice meeting you.”
I smiled at him, surprised by how nice a guy he was. “It was nice meeting you too,” I said as I left the kitchen and headed back to my office.
The hint of seriousness in Jonah reminded me of the easygoing manner in his sister, Adrianna. I had only met her once, but her personality was very different from his. He reminded me of Mrs. Gallagher.
I spent a couple of more hours at the office waiting to hear from Mrs. Gallagher about the opera, while I stole a few minutes to myself every now and then to study as I continued with my work.
When James dropped me off, I had all but given up on the opera and was looking forward to staying in and calling Jaime when he said, “Pick you up again in a couple of hours?”
I looked at him in confusion.
“Mrs. Gallagher, she told me to pick you up around seven thirty for the opera.”
I nodded and got out of the car. “Thank you, James.”
I headed for my building, feeling a bit miffed with Mrs. Gallagher. Why couldn’t she have just called me to confirm? I’d spent the whole day wondering about it only to have it confirmed by James.
I got to my house and seriously considered calling her to cancel, or maybe I should’ve just stood her up. The thought brought a smile to my face.
She’d invited me a week earlier and it was starting to feel like it was last minute. I didn’t even know what I’d wear. What did people wear to operas? I was probably even lucky to know it was an opera I’d been invited to considering how stingy Mrs. Gallagher was with details.
Maybe I could ask Jaime. She’d know. She’d probably attended some operas in her lifetime. I picked up the phone and dialed her number. As it rang, I paced back and forth and remembered the painting. Maybe I should’ve sent her flowers with a thank you note.
I stopped pacing when she picked up. Her voice was calm and composed but seemed to lack its usual warmth. “Jaime, it’s me,” I said.
“Hi Liv–. Olivia,” she said.
Maybe I was imagining it but she didn’t sound too eager to hear from me. “Is everything alright?” I asked.
She cleared her throat and said, “Yeah, yes, everything is fine.”
“I wanted to thank you for the painting. It took me a little by surprise, but it was really nice of you to do that,” I said.
“Olivia, what are you talking about?” she asked.
I sat down on the bed. “The painting I received today from your gallery, it was from you, wasn’t it?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Wait, if it wasn’t from her and she was the only person who knew I liked it, then who could it have been from? “Who was it from then? I thought…”
“Olivia, look, it was really nice meeting you and it was great working together but I can’t see you anymore,” she said.
“Wait, what? What’s going on?” I asked in confusion.
“I can’t see you anymore, Olivia. Goodbye,” she said and hung up.
I stared at my phone wondering what had just happened. Had Jaime just broken up with me? Technically, we hadn’t been a couple in order for it to be a break up but still, what had just happened?
Last we’d seen each other, it had been so wonderful. We’d even talked about the possibility of a second date. How could she turn me away so out of the blue? Was it something I’d done? And if the painting wasn’t from her, then who was it from?
I didn’t know how long I sat there thinking, but the more I thought about it, the depressing the notion became. I’d just been dumped by a woman I’d only started dating. How pathetic was that?
I’d genuinely believed she liked me. What could have changed her mind? I was convinced she’d felt the same way, well, almost. Clearly, I’d been wrong. She’d sent me all the right signals, she’d responded to our kisses with a similar need, she’d looked at me with interest and our conversations had been so good.
What could’ve happened to make her change her mind about me? Since she didn’t want to hear from me again, I doubted I’d ever get the answers I needed. What struck me was the fact that it hurt.
I knew I’d liked her way too soon and everything had happened fast between us, but I had never imagined she’d call it quits so soon.
I liked her but she wanted nothing to do with me. The reality sunk in with a startling and piercing realization, which left me sad.
Since it was getting late and thinking about Jaime was doing nothing but hurt me, I got up and went to take a shower. I needed a distraction and this opera had come at a more than a convenient timing.
Chapter Nine
I wasn’t aware of the night’s plan but when James came to pick me up in a black stretch limousine, I knew Mrs. Gallagher meant business. I was overwhelmed by the unexpected means of transport, seeing as how a mere few weeks ago I’d been almost homeless.
He opened the door for me with his usual warm smile, offering me a compliment regarding my attire. I was wearing a simple but elegant blue dress and heels but felt under dressed because I wasn’t sure how people dressed to operas.
“Are we meeting Mrs. Gallagher at the venue?” I asked when James drove out of parking.
“I’m picking her up from the country club,” he said.
“You must drive her to these kinds of things all the time,” I said, trying not to grow nervous at the prospect of spending the evening with Mrs. Gallagher.
“She likes her operas,” he said.
I fidgeted in my seat.
“It’s a bit unusual though, she always goes alone.”
“She probably wanted me along for some work-related issue or something.”
“Like I said, she likes her operas.”
Was he suggesting this had nothing to do with work?
“There is champagne and a couple of glasses back there,” he said.
I met his gaze on the rearview mirror and wondered if he sensed my uneasiness. “Thanks, but I think I should stay sober.”
“It’s to calm your nerves.”
“Still, I don’t think I should drink when I’m about to go meet my boss.”
“You’re not on the clock, but suit yourself.”
The more we talked the nervous I grew. He focused his attention on the road and the memory of Jaime ending things with me earlier came to mind. Had I not heard from her, I would’ve put up the snobbish pretentious attitude I assumed most people attending would be in, but I just wasn’t in the mood.
I had tried to psyche myself up for the opera to no avail and knowing I was going to spend the evening with Mrs. Gallagher, probably just the two of us alone, was leaving me even more psyched out.
When James stopped the car a while later, my heart started pounding. He told me he’d be right back and got out. I looked at the champagne bottle and contemplated pouring myself a glass because my nerves were all over the place.
Almost ten minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching and braced myself. A moment later, James opened the door and I moved farther to my right to create space as Mrs. Gallagher got in.
She smelled like an expensive bottle of perfume as she took a seat beside me, and she looked gorgeous in a formal but graceful dress. “Hello Olivia,” she said when she settled down on her seat and looked at me.
“Hello Mrs. Gallagher,” I said nervously.
“How is your evening?”
Not so good, I wanted to say but I forced a smile and said, “Not bad.”
James got back in the car and drove out of the country club.
I was so tense I didn’t know what to do.
“How are your studies coming along?” she asked.
“They’re coming along fine,” I lied. What was I supposed to tell her, that since I’d started working for her I hadn’t had a chance to study or attend classes?
I was glad when she reached for the champagne bottle and uncorked it because my throat was suddenly dry. She’d never taken any interest in me and I didn’t know what this was all about but, I was going to try my best to play along.
She poured the wine in two glasses and handed me one.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Have you attended an opera performance before?” she asked.
I thought it was obvious that I never had, but I smiled at her and shook my head as I said, “No, this is my first.”
“Tonight’s performance is one of my favorites. It’s an Italian comic opera called the Elixir of Love mostly performed in Italy between 1838 and 1848,” she said.
It was surprising of her to reveal something personal about herself to me. Up until then, she’d never let me see past her serious demeanor.
I didn’t know how to respond. I’d never imagined the two of us in a social setting where we’d have to talk about anything other than work. “I hope I like it,” I said.
“You may, or may not. Young people of today have very different uh… taste.”
She appeared a little more relaxed than usual and I liked the aura surrounding her because it made me feel less tense. I took a sip from my glass and let out a breath, relaxing in my seat as the champagne trickled down my throat.
The rest of the drive to the Metropolitan Opera House was quiet. I wanted to talk to Mrs. Gallagher, get to know this side of her she was starting to show but I second-guessed every statement I thought of saying.
When we got there, we set the champagne glasses back down and got out of the limousine. James handed Mrs. Gallagher an envelope, which I assumed had the tickets and I took a deep breath and followed after her.
I assumed we had arrived on time since there was no line, but realized a few minutes later that we were going in through a different entrance. I doubted I’d ever get used to the VIP treatment as we made our way into the lobby.
There were people who had already arrived, but Mrs. Gallagher did
n’t seem to want to stop for a chat. Instead, she quickly showed me directions to the coatroom and washroom and led me to our sitting area, a private box with two seats.
Once seated, an usher came to hand us a program which had the synopsis conveying the plot of the performance and two opera glasses to make viewing easier.
The auditorium was huge and far more astonishing than anything I had imagined. It felt like I had stepped into another world, one that was unfamiliar but pleasingly accepting.
“This is amazing,” I said, trying but failing to conceal my wonder.
Mrs. Gallagher responded with a slight nod.
I read the program to see when the intermission would take place while I looked around to see the other patrons who had attended the show.
While we waited, my excitement seemed to wear off with time as my thoughts drifted back to Jaime. I would’ve loved to attend something like that with her. We would’ve definitely had more to talk about.
“You okay?” I looked up at Mrs. Gallagher’s voice.
I quickly nodded and said, “I’m fine. I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
She looked at me a moment longer than I expected her to and I had to look away first because intimidation set in.
“The Italian composer Gaetano Donizetti…”
I watched her as she gave me a brief history of the original composer and wondered if she still viewed me as just a mere employee. She’d shown more interest in me than any of my former employers, but then again, that could have just been the sort of person she was.
I still found her completely irresistible and would never, for the life in me, understand how her husband could take her for granted. I blamed the slip of my tongue the night I had kissed her on alcohol, but found myself wondering where all that courage had disappeared to.
Mrs. Gallagher had given me a stern warning, but I couldn’t help wonder if there was more to this opera thing.
Was this her way of extending a hand of friendship? I doubted she’d want anything from me. What could a woman who had everything in the world want from someone like me?
“It’s starting,” she said.
I almost didn’t notice until she told me and I focused my attention to the grand stage. The lights dimmed and people started clapping. I played along and stopped when everyone else did. The orchestra started and the curtains rose as the performance began.
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