She smiled when she saw me and weaved around the obstacles before her with grace and ease. Because this chaos was her domain, and no one ran it like she did.
“Maisie,” she said warmly. “How are you?”
“Good. Did I get the time wrong? I thought we had a meeting this morning.”
She stepped to my side and surveyed the madness, saying softly enough that only I could hear, “She’s avoiding her accountant.”
A nod of her head directed me to a small, balding, and impatient-looking man who sat in a chair well out of the way, like a child put in time-out. His gaze alternated from his watch to my mother and back again.
I would have laughed had it not been so very much like her. “Of course she is. He’s probably going to tell her to cut back on her shoe allowance, and if he can’t get to her to say so, she can’t be obligated to listen, can she?”
Shelby chuckled. “As if anyone could stop your mother from buying shoes.”
The accountant decided he’d had enough, shooting to his feet and scuttling across the room. “Evelyn, I have another meeting, and I cannot keep waiting—”
“Then don’t,” she said lightly without looking up. “I’m terribly sorry, Roland. I didn’t realize my meetings would run so late.”
“You need to make time for this,” he blustered. “There is much to discuss, and soon. We’re running out of time to—”
“Yes, yes. It’s just that I’m so very busy.” She finally looked up, offering him a mild smile. “I’ll have Shelby schedule you for earlier in the day next time. Perhaps if she’d done so from the start, this could have been avoided.” She shot Shelby a warning look before turning back to the light table.
Shelby stiffened at my side. I knew good and well she’d done exactly what my mother had asked of her, which was to purposely double-book her. But my mother not only paid Shelby well for her abuse, she also held the power to ruin any of Shelby’s future prospects.
But rather than balk at my mother throwing her under the bus, Shelby smiled and stepped to Roland’s side. “It’s all my fault, Roland. I hope you can forgive the oversight. If you’ll come with me, we’ll get you scheduled with Mrs. Bower soon.”
“Very soon,” he insisted, scowling and smoothing his suit over his paunch as he cast one more look at my mother over his shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” she said, ushering him out.
The second he was gone, my mother straightened up, taking off her glasses. “That will be all,” she said, making no more eye contact as she walked to her desk and took a seat as if the room weren’t full of people she’d summoned.
Confused glances were exchanged, but no one dared argue. Instead, they gathered their things and began filing out of the office in silence.
“Don’t just stand there, Margaret,” she said to her desk as she wrote something in a notebook lying open in front of her. “Sit down, for God’s sake.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from sassing her and took one of the low-backed armchairs in front of her desk. Only when I was firmly in my seat did she look up, sweeping her glasses off her face.
“What did you want to see me about?”
“What did Roland want? He said you were running out of time—”
“That is not why you’re here.”
I frowned. “You want me to know the business. In fact, I already own a sliver of it. Isn’t whatever Roland needs part of the business?”
“What Roland does is currently above your pay grade. Now, please tell me what you need so we can both get on with our days.”
“Well, that’s just it. I don’t really have much to do. Part of our agreement was that I’d be able to work in the charity division, but you’ve kept me out of it, dragging me to pointless legal meetings, ignoring me when I try to ask. So now that I have your undivided attention, I’m calling in the promise.”
She leaned back in her chair, eyeing me. “I will never understand your obsession with that silly little project.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” The defensive ember that always flickered between us glowing brighter. “There’s no power in it. Maybe that’s why I like it so much—it’s not about me. It’s about others. But it doesn’t matter why I want it. You promised it to me, and if you want me here, you’ll honor our terms or I’ll go,” I said, meaning every word. “The lure works both ways.”
Her eyes narrowed, either from thought or defiance, I couldn’t tell. “Part-time,” she answered without answering. “You are limited to twenty hours a week—”
“But—”
“But what? You have an obligation to me first and foremost. Your duties as my successor are nonnegotiable.”
Betrayal and frustration whistled through me. “I should have known there would be a catch.”
“Yes, you should have. But if you’d rather forfeit the charity—”
“No. I’ll do it,” I ground out the words.
Bitter blood-red lips curled into a smile. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I’m starting today.” I didn’t dare ask if she had any objections for fear she’d fill my plate with tasks to rob me of my time.
“Then the clock will start too. Use your time wisely, Margaret.”
At that, she turned to whatever was on her desk, sliding her glasses back on. And I was invisible to her once more.
I rose on shaky legs and carried myself out the door, blind with a confusing mixture of pride and disappointment. I’d stood up to her, gotten the thing I wanted, just not how I wanted it. She knew just how to strip my spirit, cut me down, keep me pinned. And I should have known.
I shouldn’t have come back to New York.
Shelby stepped around her desk, her face touched with concern. “Are you all right, Maisie?”
“No, I am not all right,” I answered with an unsteady voice. “She promised me Harvest but only delivered on half.”
Shelby sighed. “I had a feeling. I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you.”
“Don’t be. I know better than anyone why you didn’t.”
“Well, if I can help, I will. Are you heading down to the charity division now?”
I took a breath, reached for that joy, and grabbed it. “I am. We have to take what we can get, right?”
“That’s the spirit. I’ll call down and let them know you’re coming.”
“Thanks, Shelby.”
“Anytime,” she answered.
I made tracks for the elevator, leaving my mother behind me as best I could. But I was left with the unsettling feeling that all of this was to break me so she could remake me in her image. And all I wanted to do was bolt.
But then the elevator doors opened to the charity division of Bower, and I was reminded of all the reasons to stay.
Where the executive offices upstairs were a stoic, impatient array of suits and tidy hairstyles, the charity offices were their humming, happy contrast. It was all smiles, messy buns, and scruffy faces. Music floated around the bullpen. A burst of laughter rose above the murmur of chatter. I even caught sight of denim.
It was a whole new world.