Читать книгу Boss Meets Her Match - Janet Nye Lee - Страница 12
ОглавлениеMONDAY FOUND HER back in her element. Her office on Broad Street was only a few blocks walk from her condominium. Tucked away in the back of a historic building, it was a small office, but she didn’t need a lot of room. She loved the space with its two-hundred-year-old pinewood flooring and walls of exposed brick. Sleek, minimalist furniture decorated the reception room. Less was more, she’d learned.
“Good morning,” Chloe, her receptionist, greeted her. “How was your weekend?”
“Annoying. How was yours?”
“So much fun! Some of my sorority sisters and I went up to the mountains and the leaves are all turning for fall. Met some cute guys.”
Lena smiled. Chloe was virtually a cliché of a sorority girl. Pretty. Thin. Blonde. Obsessed with fashion. She’d almost dismissed her application out of hand, but during the interview, she’d found Chloe to be smart and disciplined. The fact that she’d grown up in the homes of the rich people who Lena hoped to make richer was a bonus. Chloe knew how to tease and charm the clients but more importantly, she was an amazing manager.
The door opened and Lena’s second employee came in. If Chloe soothed the nerves of the upper crust about having an unknown Hispanic woman handle their money, Mose certainly challenged their faith. Mose, named Moseley Braun after the first female African American senator, was almost six feet tall with a strong, athletic build and dark skin that made her hazel eyes stand out. She wore her hair shorn close to her head and usually about two pounds of jewelry. She was also poised to be the first partner in Reyes Financial Management.
“Did you hear about Hong Kong?” Mose asked the second she crossed the threshold.
“Good or bad?”
“Good. I’ll have a report on your desk in an hour.”
Lena and Chloe watched as Mose continued through the reception to her tiny office in the back. “Well, okay,” Chloe said. “Welcome to Monday.”
“Any messages over the weekend?”
“Just one. A...” Chloe cleared her throat and continued in a dramatic tone. “Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth said he had been referred by Eliot Rutledge and would like to set up an appointment.”
“The fifth? What is wrong with these people?”
Chloe shrugged. “Not a clue. Usually whoever is the third breaks with tradition and names their child something new. But some of these old-money dudes are awful attached to the name.” She made air quotes around the last two words.
Lena waved a hand. “Set it up. Earliest this week.”
She stopped at the coffeemaker before heading to her office. Mondays were generally appointment free. The stock market didn’t stop for the weekend, and while she kept an eye on the happenings over the weekend, unless something monumental happened, she waited until Monday. It was a day of review and planning. Taking what action was necessary to either protect or improve her clients’ portfolios. She kicked her shoes off the moment she sat at her desk. Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth. She’d pegged him 100 percent. Spoiled trust-fund baby. Playing with daddy’s money. She couldn’t wait to tell him no, no matter what Eliot thought of him. She flicked her eyes in the direction of Mose’s office. Unless he really had a lot of money. Maybe she’d kick him over to Mose as her first client.
She plugged her phone in and opened her Pandora app to her classical music station and began sorting through the weekend’s financial changes. Knowing what changes would affect which clients and adjusting accordingly was the thing she loved most about her job. It was a constant dance. She had to keep the perfect balance between daring and caution. Most of all, she loved when that little tingle of intuition that she couldn’t explain proved to be successful.
A flickering light caught her eye and she frowned at the phone. She’d been deep in the zone. Lowering the volume, she picked up the phone. “Yes, Chloe?”
“Sorry to bother you, but William Durant is on the phone. He says he needs to speak to you about his accounts.”
“Put him through.” She pulled up Bill’s account. Not her biggest. Not her smallest. Nor her most challenging. A cautious investor, Bill Durant was. “Good morning, Bill. How can I help you?”
“Well, I have some good news and some bad news. Good news—I’ve taken a position with a medical ministry in Scotland.”
“Wow. Okay. That sounds amazing. Tell me about it.”
“Essentially, I will be coordinating medical missions for the School of Medicine in Glasgow. A dream job for me. And, of course, we’ll be moving there. The kids are very excited.”
“Well, where’s the bad news, then?” She smiled as she said it, but she knew what was coming. He was taking his money with him.
“The thing is, my wife and I have talked about it and we don’t think we’re going to come back.”
“So you’re going to need to transfer your accounts to Scotland. That’s reasonable.”
“Yes. It won’t be right away. I’m leaving in a month. Sandra and the kids will follow if the house hasn’t sold by then. And I’ll have to find someone as good as you in Scotland. Will you be able to do the transfers once I’m over there?”
“Yes. It won’t be a problem. I’m sorry to lose you, but I’m excited for you. Sounds like an amazing opportunity for the whole family.”
She carried on the chitchat for a while. “Well, shit,” she said out loud after she ended the call. She kept her list small and exclusive so that she could give each client all the attention they deserved. It was a delicate balance that kept the agency’s lights on.
She let out a low stream of Spanish expletives. Now she had to hope Mr. Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth had an account big enough to replace what she was going to lose.
* * *
MATT LOUNGED BACK in one of the two armchairs that made up his living room in the cramped apartment. The downtown location was perfect for his needs. He could walk to both his jobs, the grocery store and the waterfront was near enough to haul his painting supplies to. But damn, it was pricey. He bounced his phone in his hand. He did not want to make this call. Talking to his father never ended well. Playing briefly with the idea of calling his mother instead, he shook his head. No. She didn’t know anything. How in this day and age a woman could defer every financial detail of her life to her husband, he couldn’t comprehend.
“Ah, screw it,” he muttered. Do it for the kids, man. He made the call before he could talk himself out of it.
“Hi, Millicent,” he said to his father’s executive assistant and suspected lover. “It’s Matt. Is my father available to talk?”
“One moment, I’ll check.”
If she was surprised to hear from him, her voice didn’t show it. She was smooth, almost coldly polite. With one quick click, classical music filled his ear. He waited. And waited. He hooked the other chair with his foot and pulled it around to prop his feet up on and let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Warm October sunshine flowed through the window. He noticed the fall of the light and the swirling dust motes. He should probably dust.
Finally, after whatever length of time his father deemed necessary to exert dominance, the line clicked again. “What is it, Charles? I’m very busy.”
“Hey, Dad. How are you? How’s Mother?”
“What do you want? And don’t say money.”
Narrowing his eyes at the dig, he pressed his lips together against the automatic response that wanted to fly out of his mouth. A fight wasn’t why he’d called. He had never asked his father for a cent. Keep calm. Don’t get drawn in.
“Actually I was calling to get some information about the trust fund Grandmother left me.”
“You can’t access it early if that is what you want.”
He kept careful control over his temper. But his father could make him lose it faster than anyone on the planet. “That isn’t what I was going to ask but it’s heartwarming that you still have such a low opinion of me.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I’m having some success with my art recently and I’m getting ready to hire a financial manager. I wanted to know if I can transfer the administration of the trust fund over to her, or does it have to stay with the executor of Grandmother’s estate?”
The long moment of silence made him grin. He hadn’t expected that, now, had he? If he heard a throat clearing, that would mean he’d scored a direct hit. But alas, his father’s voice was steady and cold. “That’s something you’d need to discuss with the executor.”
“Can I have the contact information?”
“I’ll send you back to Millicent for that.”
“Thanks, Dad,” he said as the call ended on his father’s end. “Nice chat. We should do it again sometime.”
After getting the information from Millicent, he tossed the phone on the couch beside him. Nice to know nothing’s changed. Still the black sheep, the wayward son. Growing up under the weight of his family’s expectations had been suffocating. They’d given him little choice: join the law firm or go away. So he’d gone away. Only his grandmother had believed in him and encouraged his art from a young age. Her death six years ago had driven the last wedge between him and his family. The bulk of her estate had gone to charity, but she’d left a sizable trust fund for him. His parents had been furious with their tokens and his father even tried to contest the will.
Trouble was he wouldn’t get the money until he was thirty-five. Which was why he was scrambling between his part-time jobs as an art therapist and giving lessons to anyone who would hire him. This little windfall needed expert guidance. And Lena Reyes was the woman he wanted to do it.
He grabbed up the phone and dialed her number.
Ten minutes later, he was making his way to the Children’s Hospital with a grin he couldn’t quite keep off his face. He’d get to see the lovely Lena on Friday. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. The temperature was a perfect seventy degrees. Maybe he could take the kids outside to paint in the horseshoe area.
* * *
AS IF THIS Monday wasn’t sucky enough with losing a client and having to make an appointment with a bad-boy trust-fund brat, now her mother was calling. All Lena wanted was to sit on the couch, drink wine and eat pizza. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
“Eduardo would like a date.”
Lena dropped the slice of pizza back on the plate. Sass jumped up and stuck her face in it.
“No!”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry. I was talking to the cat. Come on, Mom. Really? Y’all are setting me up on blind dates now?”
“It’s not a blind date. You’ve met him. He liked you.”
Lena frowned and picked at a piece of pepperoni. She’d have to go for a run tomorrow to make up for this. She tried to put a name to the emotion squirming within her at the idea of going on a date with Eduardo. Don’t want to. Yeah, that’s it.
“Magdalena.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You sound like a whining six-year-old. He’s a nice man. Educated. Has a good job. Not bad-looking. What? You got so many men falling at your feet that you can be picky?”
“Damn, Mom. You can lay one hell of a guilt trip.”
“Don’t curse. It isn’t ladylike. And I’m Catholic—we’ve cornered the market on guilt. May I give him your phone number?”
Slouching down into the corner of the couch, Lena sighed. So, she’d go on a date. Give him a chance. Then maybe they’d leave her alone. She could say she tried. “Okay.”
Hanging up, she looked up at the ceiling.
Sass jumped back up on the couch and stared at her. “What do you think, Sass? Eduardo?”
Sass responded by lifting her leg and licking her privates. Lena took a huge bite of pizza. “Now, that,” she said with her mouth full, “is unladylike.”
* * *
THE MELLOW MUSHROOM restaurant in Avondale seemed extra noisy. Lena frowned and scanned the restaurant for Sadie. Spotting a hand waving in the air, she headed in that direction.
“It’s so loud in here tonight,” she said.
Sadie gestured at the wineglass on the table. “That’s for you.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s going on?” Sadie asked, lifting her own glass.
“Not much. The usual.”
“No. I mean—” Sadie waved a hand in Lena’s face “—what’s going on with this face?”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look like you’d like to kick a puppy.”
Lena scowled. Sometimes having a best friend wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Especially when said best friend was all chirpy happy and sleeping with a gorgeous hunk of man every night. The scowl deepened when Sadie laughed. Loudly.
“Stop it.” Sadie gasped. “Now you look like you want to stab a nun.”
The waitress appeared and Lena gave her order without looking at the menu. Pizza twice in one week. She’d definitely have to do some running this weekend. She sipped wine and tried to relax her face while Sadie ordered.
“So, what’s going on?”
Lena made another face. “My mother. That’s what’s going on. She made me agree to go on a date with some random dude my aunt Estrella dragged to the house last weekend.”
“Pooh! A date. Tell me more.”
She told Sadie about the date, that there was no spark.
“What else?” Sadie asked in a leading tone.
“I lost a client. He’s moving overseas. Sort of bummed about it.”
“Ah. I’m sorry. Do you have another client waiting?”
Lena looked down at her drink. Matt’s smile and appraising blue eyes came to mind. She felt a little rush of heat. “Yeah. But I don’t know. I may give him to Mose to be her first client.”
“Whoa! Whoa! Stop the planet. What did you just say? You? OCD queen? Are going to turn over a new client?”
Lena shrugged and Sadie leaned in close to stare into her eyes. “Stop staring at me.”
“What’s up with Mr. New Client?”
“Nothing.”
“Lena. You are practically blushing. Tell me. I’m your best friend. You are required by law to tell me the details of your life.”
Their pizzas arrived and Lena took a few bites, ignoring Sadie as hard as she could. Sadie grinned at her from behind her wineglass. “Sass barfed up a hairball the size of my fist on the bathroom rug and I accidentally stepped in it.”
“Gross. Lena, I’m trying to eat here.”
“You said I had to tell you all the details of my life.”
“Point. Revision—tell me all about this new client you don’t want to take on.”
“Trust-fund frat boy.”
Sadie made a face. “Ugh. Yeah. Give him to Mose.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Sadie’s instant agreement helped. She was attracted to him simply based on his looks and that bad boy vibe he gave off. But she was over that. She was almost thirty years old and she didn’t have time to play. Serious applicants only. She let out a long sigh. “Eduardo it is.”
“Ha-ha. Mr. Dream Nerd.”
“Knock it off, okay? It’s bad enough I have to go out with him. Ugh. My life sucks. And why are they so loud up there?”
“It’s a restaurant, Lena, not a library.”
The waitress stopped by to refill their water glasses.
Lena pointed at the upper level. “What’s going on up there? They are so loud.”
“A wedding party,” the waitress replied with a smile.
“Aww,” Sadie cooed. “A wedding party.”
“Who has a wedding party at a pizza joint?”
“Indeed,” Sadie said, looking up at the waitress. “Do you know the happy couple?”
The waitress nodded. “Kim and Ben.”
Sadie pushed back her chair and, grabbing her glass of wine, stood. “Hey,” she yelled. She lifted the glass toward the party above. “To Kim and Ben. May all your ever-afters be happy!”
“Seriously?” Lena asked as Sadie sat back down. “Am I going to get all chirpy and goo-gooey if I fall in love?”
“Yes. Yes, you are. And you’ll stop being a grumpy muffin.”
“Grumpy muffin? Oh geez. Next thing I know, you’ll be cutting my food for me.”
“Go out with Eduardo. Maybe you won’t want to stab him in the face. Give him a chance. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Lena shoved a bite of pizza into her mouth to stop the ready retort. She loved Sadie like a sister, but that woman had been on maybe two dates in her life. Wyatt fell out of the sky into her lap. What’s the worst that could happen? “Chad.”
Sadie coughed as she choked on a sip of wine. “Chad. The serial killer! I forgot about him.”
“He wasn’t really a serial killer,” Lena said. “Just creepy.”
“The one who wanted to take all those pictures of you.”
“Dios mío. Remember all the messages he left me once I told him to shove off?”
Sadie leaned forward. “Lena,” she said, imitating a deep male voice, “You’re my soul mate. You and I were written in the stars. You can’t deny fate.”
A shudder ran through Lena’s body. “Stop doing that. You sound just like him. What a pervert.”
Sadie sat back. “Wonder what ever happened to him?” She pulled out her phone. “Want to look him up on the sex offenders list?”
“No!”
“Want to look up Eduardo?”
“No.”
“You sure? I can have Wyatt check him out.”
“And y’all wonder why I don’t want you poking your noses in my love life.”
“You have no love life, Lena. You do nothing but work, go home, order delivery and watch Netflix. If you didn’t meet me for dinner every Wednesday, you’d have no social life either.”
Glancing around for their waitress, Lena held up her wineglass. That hit a little too close to home. Problem with having a best friend is they told you the ugly truth about yourself.
“I know. I’m in a rut.”
“You’re in the Grand Canyon, sister girl.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Tell me one thing you did this week that wasn’t family or work related.”
“I went for a run every other day.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“What do you want me to do? Cook for myself? Get on one of those stupid ass dating sites? Volunteer at some charity? Build a house for Habitat for Humanity?”
Sadie’s teasing smirk faded as she reached out and took Lena’s hands in hers. “I’m not trying to be mean, Lena. I’m sorry. I have no room to talk here. Before Wyatt—”
“Fell into your lap.”
“True. I was in that same rut. Work. Sleep. Work. It’s just that I want you to be happy. And I don’t know how to help you.”
She tightened her fingers against Sadie’s. “You help by being my friend. By kicking my butt when I get whiny.”
“Or pull the princess routine.”
“I’m going to be okay, Sadie. I think I’m at a crossroad. I’ve achieved all the goals I set for myself. Just need to set some new ones.”
“Like telling me about this new client.”
“Oh, you mean Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth? Old Virginia money. Trust fund from his grandmother. It’s kind of obvious.”
“Have you met him yet?”
Lena hesitated as their food was delivered. Sadie dived into her pizza like she’d not eaten in a month. She stared at hers, her appetite mostly gone. Pulling a bit of mushroom off, she popped it in her mouth. “Yes. He was obnoxious.”
“Normal people limit of obnoxious or Lena Reyes’s standards?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you have a history of judging people—and by people, I mean men—rather harshly.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“I’m not even talking to you anymore.”
“Jules wants you to help her with a Spanish project for school.”
Lena sighed and took a huge bite of pizza. Sadie knew she couldn’t deny Jules anything. One pleading look from her dark eyes would melt the hardest of hearts.
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Grouch.”
“Meanie.”
“I’ll have Wyatt run Eduardo through a background check. We don’t want you hooking up with another serial killer.”
