of issues around younger men that won’t let her take it so seriously. Seriously would be bad at the moment. I need to get some display cases built in, the carpenter is a hottie, maybe I’ll make her come over to the shop and then I’ll throw her at him.”
“Excellent. I cannot believe I’ve only just thought of this.” Lorna’s eyes, framed by her lemon yellow shades, narrowed in thought. “We’ve got a pack of interns, one or two of them are sensitive college boy types. Yummy, should one’s taste run to graduates. Any one of them would do. They always give parties — I’ll get invited to one.”
They looked at each other satisfied. Job well done, plan of action agreed, everything under control. Annabelle would be fine. Annabelle would find her way through this. Annabelle —
Was running flat out toward them. Her hair flew straight out, up, and back from her head, her cheeks were flushed with exertion. As she waved at them wildly, both Maria Grazia and Lorna thought, “She’s lost her mind.”
Annabelle grabbed each of them by the arm to stop her momentum, and bent over double, panting. She tried to speak and catch her breath at the same time, which oddly enough didn’t work, as she began to explain herself.
“Ohmigod ohmigod sorry late missed lunch sorry sorry shop tarot shop mind reader psychic vision thing?” Annabelle gasped. “Smoke candles blew out I don’t know I don’t know time warp or something shop gone two hours disappeared ran up here all the way freaked out hazelnut!”
Chapter Seven
The youthful buzz of Matrix PR, Lorna’s employer for the last four years, rocked down the elevator shaft, three floors away. Once the elevator arrived at the forty-second floor, it wasn’t hard to see why. A bank of thirty-five television sets welcomed visitors, each proudly displaying a sexy, modish show reel of the concern’s hottest properties. That none of the screens were synchronized, and therefore none of the soundtracks were running in tandem, bothered no one but the luckless receptionists; the cacophony represented the cutting edge of the agency’s values, and Lorna welcomed the familiar din as she and Maria Grazia tried to surreptitiously frog-march Annabelle onto the premises.
They moved as calmly as possible across the open plan office, Lorna’s eyes taking in everything via peripheral vision, making sure she knew who was doing what where, and whether or not any of her colleagues had spotted her and her friends. Lorna steered Annabelle and Maria Grazia toward her modified cube; in an effort to reflect Lorna’s seniority in the agency, the powers-that-were had enclosed the space with semi-frosted glass. It was better than nothing, with “nothing” generally being the order of the day in a company in which those powers behaved as though their employees should be paying
them
for the privilege of working there.
God forbid they should actually come across with a proper office
, Lorna thought bitterly, not for the first time. Proper office or not, Lorna prayed to make it in there unchallenged. She was positive that Annabelle was radiating insanity vibes and wanted her behind closed doors — well, door —
now
.
They cruised past Lorna’s assistant Zoe, an overly serious twenty-year-old sporting a severe crop of hair colored an improbable shade of red and heavy horn-rimmed glasses. She had opened her mouth to speak, but obeyed Lorna’s raised hand and shut her mouth again.
“No calls — none,” Lorna ordered, as Zoe quickly opened the door and leaped aside. “No tea, no coffee. We are not to be disturbed.”
As she and Maria Grazia led Annabelle into Lorna’s office, Zoe jumped into the doorway and blurted, “Vera Wang called and said that the shantung strapless was unavailable for the MOMA opening because someone from
Revenge
requested it.”
Lorna’s brows rose and knitted simultaneously. “We’ll see about that,” she muttered as she firmly ushered her assistant
“Excellent. I cannot believe I’ve only just thought of this.” Lorna’s eyes, framed by her lemon yellow shades, narrowed in thought. “We’ve got a pack of interns, one or two of them are sensitive college boy types. Yummy, should one’s taste run to graduates. Any one of them would do. They always give parties — I’ll get invited to one.”
They looked at each other satisfied. Job well done, plan of action agreed, everything under control. Annabelle would be fine. Annabelle would find her way through this. Annabelle —
Was running flat out toward them. Her hair flew straight out, up, and back from her head, her cheeks were flushed with exertion. As she waved at them wildly, both Maria Grazia and Lorna thought, “She’s lost her mind.”
Annabelle grabbed each of them by the arm to stop her momentum, and bent over double, panting. She tried to speak and catch her breath at the same time, which oddly enough didn’t work, as she began to explain herself.
“Ohmigod ohmigod sorry late missed lunch sorry sorry shop tarot shop mind reader psychic vision thing?” Annabelle gasped. “Smoke candles blew out I don’t know I don’t know time warp or something shop gone two hours disappeared ran up here all the way freaked out hazelnut!”
Chapter Seven
The youthful buzz of Matrix PR, Lorna’s employer for the last four years, rocked down the elevator shaft, three floors away. Once the elevator arrived at the forty-second floor, it wasn’t hard to see why. A bank of thirty-five television sets welcomed visitors, each proudly displaying a sexy, modish show reel of the concern’s hottest properties. That none of the screens were synchronized, and therefore none of the soundtracks were running in tandem, bothered no one but the luckless receptionists; the cacophony represented the cutting edge of the agency’s values, and Lorna welcomed the familiar din as she and Maria Grazia tried to surreptitiously frog-march Annabelle onto the premises.
They moved as calmly as possible across the open plan office, Lorna’s eyes taking in everything via peripheral vision, making sure she knew who was doing what where, and whether or not any of her colleagues had spotted her and her friends. Lorna steered Annabelle and Maria Grazia toward her modified cube; in an effort to reflect Lorna’s seniority in the agency, the powers-that-were had enclosed the space with semi-frosted glass. It was better than nothing, with “nothing” generally being the order of the day in a company in which those powers behaved as though their employees should be paying
them
for the privilege of working there.
God forbid they should actually come across with a proper office
, Lorna thought bitterly, not for the first time. Proper office or not, Lorna prayed to make it in there unchallenged. She was positive that Annabelle was radiating insanity vibes and wanted her behind closed doors — well, door —
now
.
They cruised past Lorna’s assistant Zoe, an overly serious twenty-year-old sporting a severe crop of hair colored an improbable shade of red and heavy horn-rimmed glasses. She had opened her mouth to speak, but obeyed Lorna’s raised hand and shut her mouth again.
“No calls — none,” Lorna ordered, as Zoe quickly opened the door and leaped aside. “No tea, no coffee. We are not to be disturbed.”
As she and Maria Grazia led Annabelle into Lorna’s office, Zoe jumped into the doorway and blurted, “Vera Wang called and said that the shantung strapless was unavailable for the MOMA opening because someone from
Revenge
requested it.”
Lorna’s brows rose and knitted simultaneously. “We’ll see about that,” she muttered as she firmly ushered her assistant
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