Page 16 of A Matter of Time

Even our receptionist, who only greeted the man in passing, knew Dane better.

Later that morning, I was looking for my green highlighter when Therese Warner turned the corner and entered the outer office. As she headed toward Dane’s door, she thanked Sonja for putting her through to him earlier in the morning.

“Miss Warner,” I called before she turned the knob.

She looked at me over her shoulder as I came around my desk. “I have business to discuss with Mr. Harcourt.” Her tone was sharp.

“No, I’m afraid you don’t.” I handed her the envelope. “Mr. Harcourt regrets that he will be unable to attend the benefit next week, but has provided you with a check for ten thousand dollars to make up for his absence at the charity event.”

“Did you practice that all morning?” she asked tightly.

Funny, but when she was dating my boss, she thought it was marvelous the way I brushed off his old flames, and we got along great. I liked her because she was so talkative. Most of the others didn’t bother to speak to me at all, except to order me to do something. Oh, Jory, be a dear and do this, that, and the other for me. Dane will be delighted that you’re doing me this small favor. Therese had been different. She would sit in the chairs outside his office and visit with me, asking if I was dating any cute boys, telling me that she wished her eyelashes were as long as mine, her eyes as big and dark.

“I swear, Jory”—she would lean on the desk—“your eyes look just like melting chocolate, that beautiful deep brown with those flecks of gold. I just hate you. And all that thick blond hair you’ve got, my goodness. It’s a wonder you don’t have a stalker. You look more like a model than an assistant.”

And I’d laughed because she was kind, but now our days of getting along were over.

“No,” I told her. “I’m just telling you what he said.”

She took the envelope. “Why isn’t he going?”

“He didn’t say.”

“I’m sure you know. He tells you everything.”

Such a lie. “He doesn’t.”

“He told me he does.”

It was too bad Therese didn’t know when she was being played. He’d probably said he told me everything to see what her reaction would be. I knew how he operated. It was too bad she didn’t. “He didn’t mean it.”

“Dane means everything he says.”

“You think?”

“I have to speak to him,” she said, sounding slightly desperate, leaving my desk and walking back to his door. “It’s very important.”

“Is it?”

“I have to speak to him,” she mumbled again as I walked up beside her. “He’s not taking my calls. Here, at the club… He doesn’t answer his cell…”

“Oh, that has nothing to do with you. He’s got other stuff going on.”

“So I’m just, what, another irritation for him?” she snipped at me.

“That’s not what I meant.” There was nothing more irritating to me than having people misconstrue my words or my motivation. I hated people who assumed things.

“I need to see him, Jory,” she begged softly, trying to appeal to me like we were pals.

“Take the check and leave, Miss Warner.” I moved her hand gently off the doorknob. “He doesn’t want to see you. Don’t force a scene that you’ll both regret.”

“I wanted to marry him.”

“I have no doubt that you did.”

“One day everything was perfect and the next day he said he thought it would be better if we started seeing other people.”

I nodded. I knew all this already. He gave all of them the same speech, the you’re-just-too-good-for-me speech when he needed air and had to get away. The key to the man, the same as most, was to give him tons of space and act like he didn’t matter at all. Be there when he wanted you and make yourself scarce when he didn’t. But not one of them had ever been able to pull it off. They started out all outrageous and aloof and then fell hard and wanted to smother him and keep him locked up. He got under their skin so fast that the desire to cage him came with panicky obsession almost overnight. And I saw him recoil and then retreat behind his crazy jam-packed schedule and me. He loved to use me as a shield, sometimes even in person. He would show up with me in tow just to drive a point home. Dinner dates became dinner meetings, weekend retreats became working weekends whenever he was looking for distance. He brought me along as a buffer whenever he wanted the person he was with to stay back.