Page 11 of On the Fly
Emma went for the shut door with the name plate of the president, Alexander Jorgensen, and stared at the highly glossed mahogany door. She steeled her spine, took a deep breath, and knocked. She cracked open the door and stuck her head inside the office, not giving him the power of making her wait for an invitation.
“Come in.”
Ha. She won.
She pushed through the door and purposefully left it wide open. He sat at his desk, seemingly absorbed in whatever task he worked on. She took a total of four steps inside with her purse on her arm and stood there waiting for whatever he had to say.
“Shut the door and take a seat.” He still never looked up at her.
“I’m running late,” she said, readjusting her purse strap to help keep herself from fidgeting. Ander nodded toward the door. Even though he didn’t say the words, she understood his directive to shut the door. In a huff, she twirled around and gave the door a slight push.
“I just have a couple of things.” He lowered his pen and lifted his head as he pushed back in his seat. His tone was as indifferent as his attitude and that somehow managed to give her strength, rooting her in her spot. “First, I wanted to apologize to you. After some reflection, I decided you’re right. I could have found a moment to tell you who I was, but I honestly had no idea you didn’t know.”
Emma nodded. In the early morning hours, she’d wondered how she hadn’t known. After Mr. Jorgensen died, she had received many company update emails. They’d been designed to be uplifting but had just made her sad, and she had stopped paying attention to them. She didn’t doubt there were pictures of the family. If she were a decent person, she’d own up to her fault.
“Is this where I say it’s all good?” she asked in a complete one-eighty from what she’d been planning to say.
That caused Ander to bark out a laugh. “You’re not going to give an inch, are you?”
Since she had no control over what would come out of her mouth where he was concerned, she pressed her lips together. Her silence would have to speak loudly enough.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. “Next on my list where you’re concerned should make you happy. I’m authorizing the personnel you’ve asked for. Within reason. Write up a proposal outlining your strategy—the concepts you shared with me last night. Give your forecast for growth and what you expect to accomplish. I want your focus to be two-pronged. While I like the increase of ticket sales, I also want our 2.9 customer rating to increase by at least a point. Can you do that for me?” he asked as he folded his hands on top of the desk.
Though she had been stunned silent, her head took over agreeing with a nod until she could get her words to cooperate. She’d wondered whether he’d sell the company and she’d be out of a job, but this sounded promising. “Yes. Of Course. That’s exciting. Thank you. I’ve lots of ideas to get reviews up—”
“How about this. I’ve got meetings this afternoon that I should be leaving for, but I can be back in the area by about eight. Why don’t we have dinner? You can tell me your ideas, and we can iron out the proposal together,” he said.
His casual demeanor didn’t set her mind at ease over his suggestion. “I’m not having dinner with you,” she blurted.
No, being seen dining alone with the acting CEO would destroy her reputation with her peers. Or at the very least, a perceived relationship would leave any new project funding under a cloud of suspicion. She stepped backward toward the door while shaking her head.
“No, even if I didn’t have plans tonight, there’s no way we could have dinner just the two of us. That’s a terrible idea.”
“Not terrible,” he defended, furrowing his brow into the aggravated look she was more familiar and comfortable with. She needed to remember what a jerk he’d been, not this new reasonable person who appeared interested in moving the company, or at least her department, forward. Things got monumentally easier to deal with regarding this yoyo of a man when the perpetual scowl returned.
“I’ll get you the proposal. Any tweaks or suggestions can be made once you’ve had time to review my ideas. I have a wedding to attend this weekend. You know about that.” Emma twirled around; the heat in her cheeks had to show her mortification at her casualness with him the previous evening. “Oh God, I can’t believe I told you all that last night. I even showed you my dress. Absolutely, we can’t have dinner. The wrong perception could be embarrassing.”
His office desk phone rang, and she took that as a chance to hit the road. She was through the office door and heading out the suite before he could stop her. She ignored him calling her name and then the growled curse before he answered the phone call, all business once again.
Chapter 6
Ander wended his way down the long drive to the front of his childhood home. Memories of better days flooded him. He once knew this place like the back of his hand. It had been years since he’d been to this home. Even when he’d come into town for the funeral, he’d stayed at the family condo in Sacramento with his mom and siblings.
He couldn’t stay long. He had to leave tonight to get back to the office for more meetings in the morning. Even taking this time to see his mother was more than he should have scheduled for this trip, but he could never deny her. Besides, the sentimental musings were relaxing him. He reached over to turn up the volume on the radio. This station played music from the nineties which added to the nostalgia of the moment.
The long ginkgo-tree-lined drive was as spectacular as ever. In his youth, movie production companies had paid his family for rights to film their drive. It had a whimsical feel, something reminiscent of days gone by. All the gardens on the entire property had the same tone, something his green-thumbed mother had worked hard to achieve when she’d first married his father. Now that his father was gone, Ander had no idea how she’d manage the extensive upkeep of what had become their family summer home.
Ander’s concerns had been silly, apparently. The property was anything but aging and unkempt. The landscaping was nothing short of magnificent, just how he remembered it.
As the trees gave way to the beautiful plantation-style home, it wasn’t the hundreds of bright red azaleas in full bloom that drew his attention. Instead, three large service trucks loomed in the front circular drive while dozens of women and men carried boxes and equipment through the open front doors.
Ander scowled in confusion as he took the curve and pulled his car behind a large linen truck. As he took in all the activity, his gaze fell upon dozens of white portable tables set up inside the ring of planted azaleas that flanked the drive, creating a wide front lawn. The linen company’s employees placed tablecloths and chair coverings over each piece of furniture.
What in the world was going on? Ander glanced at the time—four o’clock on the nose, exactly the time he and his mother had planned for when he’d spoken to her earlier in the day. An early dinner would give him enough time to head back to the city before nightfall.
Ander pushed open his car door, stepping out of the rental as his mother came through the front doors. The woman he had worried would mourn herself into non-existence was dressed in skinny jeans and a trendy knit top. She had her long dark chestnut hair pulled back in clips, and she held a clipboard under her arm. She talked to a man, using one hand to guide the gentleman whatever direction she wanted him to go. She appeared vibrant and younger than her age. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her in blue jeans before, especially in something as trendy as what she wore right then.
Ander shook his head and shut the car door. Everything else lost his focus as he went for her. He’d hated leaving her after the funeral, but she’d insisted she wanted time alone to grieve and learn to move forward.
