Page 13 of The Holiday Cottage

Imogen felt a surge of triumph. “We did?” This was why she worked all those hours. Nothing beat that adrenaline rush that came with winning a big piece of business.

“We did. And it was a six-way pitch, so even more impressive. They loved you. Congratulations, Imogen.”

“It was a team effort.”

“But you headed up that team.” Rosalind beckoned her into the office. “Come and sit down for a moment. I want to talk to you.”

Imogen walked into the room and sat down opposite Rosalind.

Yes, she was going to be very late, but it was almost worth being mugged on the way home to savor this moment of achievement.

“That is great news. When did you hear?”

“Just now. The CEO called. There’s just one condition. They want you to handle the account personally.”

“No problem.” Imogen didn’t hesitate and Rosalind leaned forward, studying her closely.

“Are you sure? I must admit I’m concerned. You already have almost twice the number of accounts as Danny, and he told me this week he is too stretched to take on anything else.”

“Danny has two kids and a busy homelife.” Imogen didn’t mention the gym or the after-work drinks. “He has a lot on.”

“Danny also has a wife who does most of it,” Rosalind said dryly, “but we’ll ignore that. I’m not one of those bosses who thinks that employees should have no homelife, although I suspect Danny’s contribution in that department is minimal. But it does make me wonder how you manage to handle so much.”

“I’m single. It helps. Also, I love my work. I enjoy every moment. I suppose I’m a bit of a workaholic.” With no homelife, work was her priority, not least because she had no choice but to be financially independent.

Rosalind narrowed her eyes. “I thought you had a boyfriend. Jack, wasn’t it?”

Damn. She’d forgotten about Jack, which would have been a red flag had the relationship been real, but like most things in Imogen’s personal life, Jack wasn’t real. Having listened to all the ups and downs of Janie’s love life, Imogen was almost relieved he wasn’t real.

“We’re casual. He works for one of the big management consultancy firms. You know how it is. The main job requirement is that you have no life outside work.”

“Even so, you’re already over capacity,” Rosalind said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It’s a heavy workload for anyone, even someone with your talent and work ethic. I don’t want you to burn out.”

“I don’t know what that is, Rosalind, but I can assure you I’m nowhere near burning anything.” She perched on the edge of her chair and tried to project an aura of high energy.

“You’re sure you’re handling everything?” Rosalind persisted. “You’d tell me if you were struggling?”

“I would.”She definitely wouldn’t.If she found herself struggling with workload she’d go to bed later to give herself more time to get things done. “I’m not sure why you’re asking. Is there something I haven’t done? Something I haven’t delivered?”

“No. You deliver every time.” Rosalind looked at her steadily. “In fact, you usually overdeliver.”

“Good. I’m a fast worker, you know that. And if I need to work a few extra hours to get things done, then I’ll do that.”

Why was Rosalind asking all these questions? Imogen resisted the temptation to check her reflection in the mirror. Did she look tired? What was going on? Maybe she needed to wear more makeup. She’d talk to Anya about blusher.

“You’re already working more than a few extra hours.” Rosalind tapped her keyboard with her finger to wake up her computer. She checked the screen. “I couldn’t help noticing that you sent me an email at three in the morning last week. And another the following night at four. As a matter of interest, when do you sleep?”

“I’m one of those lucky people who don’t need much sleep,” Imogen assured her. “And if something comes to me in the night, then I’d rather just deal with it right there and then.”

“Mmm.” Rosalind looked at her over the top of her glasses. “Do you have a time when you switch off?”

“Of course.”Never.“I do yoga, meditate, walk the dog...”

“Ah yes, Midas.” Rosalind removed her glasses. “Janie mentioned that he’s sick. Have you had news from the vet?”

A fictitious boyfriend was manageable. Boyfriends were notoriously unreliable so there were no end of options for getting rid of them quickly without raising eyebrows, but the dog had been a mistake. She could see that now. She should have picked a less complicated pet like a rabbit or a hamster. Maybe even a stick insect, although it was hard to be appropriately gooey about a stick insect and having that particular photo on her desk would not have endeared her to Janie.

Basically, she should have picked any pet that would have allowed her to bond with the staff, without creating all this complexity.

---