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Malcolm leaned forward and put his palms on his desk. “Glad to hear it, Zoe. You are a valuable member of the team.”
Zoe could see Walsh was seething. He didn’t believe her for one minute, just as Zoe didn’t believe all the bull that was being tossed about.
“Thank you, Malcolm.” She waited.
“Well then. I guess we’re finished here.” Malcolm stood up.
Zoe got up from her chair, expecting Donald to do the same. But he didn’t. She received the message loud and clear. Walsh and Fielder were going to have their own private meeting as soon as she left the room.
She smiled at both men. “Thanks. Enjoy the rest of the day.” As she exited, bubblehead was playing some gambling game on her computer. So much for the #MeToo movement. As long as there were television shows where women were objectified, and women who would gladly go along with it, nothing was really going to change all that much. Zoe had quickly learned there was no glass ceiling. Glass implied it could be broken. When she was made VP of International Sales she’d thought she’d earned that elusive place at the conference table. But as long as there were men willing to do anything for money and power, she would remain an underling. Title or no title. She tried not to feel as if she’d just had her hand slapped, so she shoved those emotions out of her mind. Karma will win at this game.
When she got back to her own office, she busied herself with email. She thought about Mason Chapman. Now there was a decent man. True, she hadn’t known him for any great length of time, but she could tell he was a man of integrity. Not only did his employers expect it, so did his community. She thought about her conversation with Izzie and knew Izzie would approve, so she began to write him an email suggesting that she might plan a visit to London. Then she stopped. What if he doesn’t want to see me? She shook her head and fell back on her usual noncommittal approach. She began to type:
Hey Mason,
Hope this finds you well. Anything interesting happening on your side of the pond? Warmly,
Zoe
There. That was easy enough. Zoe checked the time. It was almost four o’clock. That would be ten P.M. in England. She wasn’t going to obsess over it. It was simply a friendly hello.
She began to pack her tote bag and ready herself for the next clandestine operation. The Dolce & Gabbana counter at Bloomingdale’s. She was about to switch off her computer when the “new mail” ting sounded on her computer. One more email to answer shouldn’t keep her from her appointed rounds. She clicked on her inbox and much to her joy, there was an email from Mason:
Hello, my friend. Happy to hear from you. Nothing to report here. Lots of grockles: ‘hop-ons and hop-offs. ’ Hope all is well.
Fondly,
Mason
Fondly? Now there was a word that could imply many things. She decided to interpret it as a good thing. She smiled at his British slang for tourists. As he had explained to her, “The tour buses go from one historic building to another, and the tourists hop on and hop off the bus.”
Her fingers immediately hit the keyboard and then she stopped herself abruptly. Instead of responding, she thought it best not to seem too needy. Even though she was feeling needy. For now she was on a mission and must get to the famous department store. She unlocked the drawer of her desk, removed the brown envelope and placed it in her bag.
Kyle was still at his desk. “Go home. Or go do whatever young people do after work,” she teased.
“Having drinks with friends at six. Thought I’d get some of the approvals out.”
“Well, don’t be late for your friends. They are an important commodity in life.”
As she exited the building, she spotted the woman on the bicycle, who then slowly followed her toward the East Side. It was a crisp day and the walk was invigorating. Or was it the mysterious gift that was waiting for her? In either case, Zoe felt things were moving in the right direction. The meeting with Fielder seemed to have allayed his paranoia about her concerns with Walsh’s department. She hoped it would get whoever was on her tail, off it. But, then again, she shouldn’t take things for granted. She was encouraged by Fielder saying she would return to sales. When? That remained to be seen, but it was something to hope for. The emails to and from Mason? Those were surely a reason to be light on her feet. Having Sasha shadowing her was also a big part of her good mood.
Bloomingdale’s was the Disney World of shoppers. The air was filled with the scent of fine perfume, leather, and luxury, as representatives from fragrance companies tried to spritz her as she entered the store. A smiling face asked, “Would you like to try Acqua Di Giòby Armani?” She gave a pleasant “No, thank you” until the next one asked, “Would you like to try Sacred Wood by Kilian?” There was a perfume assault at every turn. Zoe continued to smile and politely refuse. She finally made it to the posh handbag counter.
A woman in her sixties with perfectly coiffed hair and makeup and wearing a navy-blue suit greeted her. “Good evening. How may I help you?”
Zoe smiled at the woman, who was giving her the once-over. Zoe’s look and taste blended in well with the usual patrons of the high-end store. “Good evening. I am here to pick up a tote bag. Purchased by Annie de Silva?”
The woman became animated. “Of course! Countess de Silva personally called this morning. I shall fetch it for you.”
Zoe tried not to roll her eyes. Within a few minutes the woman returned with the iconic Bloomingdale’s shopping bag. Inside was a neatly wrapped tote within a dust bag. “Here you are, Miss Danfield.”
Zoe was surprised the woman hadn’t asked her for her name or identification. She guessed that’s how the incredibly rich operated. No questions asked.
“Special occasion?” Now the woman was getting nosy.
“Just friendship.” Zoe smiled at her. “Thank you very much.” She scurried out of the store. The woman on the bicycle was still in the same place. Zoe hailed a cab and the bicyclist followed at a comfortable distance. Zoe opened the shopping bag and looked inside. It was a gorgeous black leather tote with large DG initials embossed on the side. She opened the leather bag and found a note and a tablet inside. The note read: B-U-S-T-E-R. Combination. It immediately clicked. It must be the combination to her new door lock.
Once Zoe got out of the cab, the cyclist watched and waited for her to enter the building. Sasha knew the apartment had been personally handled by Avery. No bugs, a new security alarm, and a new, high-tech lock.
