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Some days she hated her job, and other days she loved it. Today would be a day she loved because she wouldn’t have time to think about herself and the pain she bore. Today, she’d message her most demanding clients and let their bridezilla ways take all of her own thoughts from her muddled brain.
When Ella arrived at the office, she was relieved to find no one else there. On weekends the planners were rarely at the office. They were out in the field either with the brides or at venues, checking them out for anything the office could get from them.
Each of their clients wanted to feel like the single most important person to ever walk through their doors. They wanted a unique wedding that would be talked about for years to come. They usually had no budget to speak of, just endless money pouring out of daddy’s pockets.
The amount of money women would spend for a single day of their lives amazed Ella. Then again, it usually wasn’t their own hard-earned money. If it was, maybe they’d make less ridiculous demands like hand-beaded napkins and roses dipped in real gold. Yep, those were two things previous brides had insisted on having.
Ella moved to the bathroom and groaned as she looked in the mirror at her pale, splotchy face. She didn’t bother adding makeup. She was sure she wasn’t finished crying for the day so why bother? Besides, she wasn’t going to do any in-person meetings that day. She was simply going to check off some of the thousands of to-dos she had on her list. It never ended.
She moved to her desk and dove into her projects. She was right that it took her mind off of her sorrows. A few hours passed without her bursting into tears again. She was getting ready to leave when she heard the outer door of the building open. She sighed. She wasn’t in the mood to visit with anyone. Maybe she’d be able to sneak out without the other person ever knowing she’d even been there.
One of the blessings of her job was that it wasn’t a nine to five. It was always more than forty hours a week, but it wasn’t specific hours. She didn’t have to punch a time clock. She sent in her reports, and she’d never had a client come back and be unhappy with her work, so her boss gave her free rein. She was a good wedding planner . . . that didn’t mean she was going to do it forever. It meant she couldn’t afford to quit something she was really good at.
Another minute passed and Ella closed the email she’d just sent, then looked up as her boss of five years walked into the room. She immediately stiffened. She didn’t like Paul Coffey the Third at all. He was arrogant and thought the world was his very own bathtub and he could make as big a splash as he wanted, whenever he wanted. He creeped her out. It seemed he’d never gotten the memo on sexual harassment . . . or he certainly didn’t care as long as he was the one attacking people.
Paul moved behind her, then stood there looking over her shoulder. She could feel his hands on the back of her chair, touching her skin as he breathed behind her. She had to fight the revulsion it induced. If it would do any good, she’d make a complaint about him, but there was no one to complain to. He was the sole proprietor of the prosperous business and he made people do his bidding with a simple snap of his fingers. She wasn’t sure how he got away with it these days, but there were still some sickos out in the world and people had to work. He took advantage of the desperation of his workers to earn money.
Ella tried to continue her work, but it was nerve-wracking having him standing there silently behind her like the stalker he was. She finally stood up and quickly moved away while stretching. She moved a few feet before giving him a fleeting smile.
“Ugh, I’ve been sitting for hours,” she told him. She moved out of her small office and went to the coffee machine where she started brewing an espresso. The smell woke her up and the distance from her boss made her feel better. Instead of going back to her office where she knew he’d follow, she moved to one of the oversized arm chairs and took a seat while she drank her most beloved beverage.
Paul didn’t hesitate to come over and sit on the arm of her chair, then place his manicured fingers on her shoulder. It gave her the chills and not in a good way. She tried her best not to stiffen as she sipped her hot coffee.
“How was the funeral?” he asked. A part of her wanted to think he wasn’t a monster because he actually remembered things going on in his employees’ lives. Then again, she thought he knew this stuff more as a way to try to get into the pants of his staff. He’d slept with a few of the women at the office. They didn’t seem to mind sharing. It was almost a badge of honor for them. She didn’t want to be a part of that club.
“It was rough, but I really don’t want to talk about it. I want to let Nana Bee go and be at peace. I know dying isn’t hard for those who leave, but it’s torture for those of us left behind,” she told him.
He rubbed her arm and she was getting ready to scream. She’d about had enough of this man. If she could, she’d walk out of his employment. She wouldn’t miss most of the brides. They’d be taken care of by other staff anyway. She thought about standing up, moving back to her office, grabbing a letter opener, and stabbing his hand. Maybe then he’d learn to keep his paws to himself.
She took another sip of coffee instead. She knew she was on edge more than normal today. Things would get back to their boring daily routine soon enough. She just needed time to grieve her horrific loss without a perv grasping at her.
“If I can do anything for you, let me know,” he told her as he continued to rub her shoulders, his fingers dipping a little over her collarbone. She realized she’d never been completely alone with him before. She didn’t like it. She’d have to make sure it didn’t happen again.
She decided the best thing to do would be to go home. She stood quickly, knocking his hands off of her. She moved back to her office, intent on closing up and getting out of there.
“I appreciate it, Paul. I just need time and space and I’ll be fine,” she told him. She didn’t look at him this time, too afraid the disgust she had for the man would be written all over her face.
“Sometimes we think we need to be alone, but we really need others around us,” Paul said, stepping into her office, blocking her from exiting. Did he do it on purpose? She couldn’t say for sure.
Before she could respond to the man her phone rang. She gratefully grabbed it, not caring who it was as long as the call took long enough for Paul to grow bored and leave. Was she going to have to flat out tell him to keep his hands to himself? She wished she was strong enough to do that. She’d grown stronger with Nana Bee in her life. She was afraid she’d now backtrack since her rock was gone.
“Hello.”
“Ms. Jones?”
“Yes, this is Ella Jones.”
“This is Ms. Acorn, Mr. Lawson’s legal aid. I just wanted to give you a reminder call that the reading of the will for Ms. Nana Bee Palazzo will be tomorrow morning at eight and your presence is required,” a pleasant voice said.
Ella let out a sigh. “Do I really have to be there?” she asked. There was nothing she’d take from Nana Bee. If the silly woman had left her something, she’d sign it over to the family. She’d already gotten so much from the woman who’d stepped in and helped her when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She certainly didn’t want anything more in her passing. If anything, she still owed Nana Bee a world of debt.
“We can’t read the will unless you’re present. That’s clearly stated,” Ms. Acorn informed her.
Ella ground her teeth for a minute. “Okay, I’ll be there. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Ms. Jones. It will be lovely to finally meet you in person tomorrow. Ms. Palazzo spoke highly of you.”
They ended the call, leaving Ella speechless. What was Nana Bee leaving her? She didn’t want to go to the reading; she knew it was going to be painful. She had no doubt Rafe was going to be there . . . and so was Bass. Ugh, she’d been hopelessly in love with Bass when she’d been thirteen and he’d been eighteen. Of course he hadn’t noticed her . . . at that age it would’ve been creepy if he had. Still, it had broken her fragile little heart. She wasn’t holding that against the man, she was just smart enough to know nothing could or would ever happen between them. They were from two very different worlds. She’d suffered enough heartbreak and she refused to put herself in positions where she’d suffer more.
