Page 44 of Tell Me What you Think

"It's not the same. She'll use my bathroom, and I'll never want to clean it again. Same with the glasses she drinks from, or anything she touches."

"Remind me not to come to your place, then," Silvia jokes. "Seriously though, what actually strikes me as weird is that she offered to come."

Olga stops moping and tilts her head, curious.

"Why? I mean — Marina's just like that. She's thoughtful, kind, and—"

"Yeah." Silvia waves a hand to cut her off. "We all know how wonderful she is. I really don't want to sit here while you sing her praises with that lovesick look on your face."

Olga makes a face, somewhere between offended and amused.

"What I'm saying is that lately she keeps doing things a normal boss wouldn't do. She has dinner with you at a restaurant in Lisbon, she hands you her lawyer's contact and calls ahead to make sure she'll actually see you, and now she's offering to help you dig through boxes from your dead relatives."

"Okay, when you put it that way, it doesn't exactly sound great," Olga admits.

"No, it doesn't. And I'm pretty convinced that woman has more exciting things to do on a Saturday than lock herself in a dusty room with her assistant, going through photos of people she's never met and straining her eyes over some other family's documents."

Olga is quiet a moment.

"Are you saying that she—? That I—?" She blinks, not even sure how to finish. "That's impossible. She'd never look at me that way."

"I'm not saying anything, just that it's strange. But I'm sure it'll go fine." She tries to sound encouraging, and Olga deflates like a punctured balloon, letting out a long sigh.

"I'm terrified — and not just because of her. If that paper doesn't turn up, this is going to become a never-ending story."

"Didn't you tell me your mom saved every single report card from elementary school?" Silvia smiles at her. "Of course it'll be there. Think positive, and be patient. I can't imagine anything more miserable than going through paperwork on a Saturday. Thank God Marina offered — saves me from being the one to help you."

Back home that Friday night, Olga catches herself doing something she's never done on a Friday night. She's scrubbing the kitchen top to bottom — and before that she cleaned the bathroom, ran the vacuum over the living room, plumped the throw pillows, and dusted every last shelf. She feels ridiculous doing it. She knows Marina isn't going to run a finger along her furniture to check for dust, but the need to make a good impression, to make sure Marina feels comfortable in her apartment, is overwhelming.

Chapter 19

Olga rubs her palms against her pants while she waits for Marina to come up in the elevator. When she hears the doors open, she tries to breathe three times as slowly as she can to calm the nerves that have had her on edge since she woke up, but when the woman appears in her doorway, Olga forgets everything she had planned to say and stands there speechless, cheeks burning and her whole body buzzing.

Marina is wearing skinny jeans, white sneakers, and a cream-colored sweater — nothing like her usual office suits. Her hair is down, too, something that has never happened in all the years Olga has been at the company.

"Are you going to let me in, or do you want to go through the boxes in the hallway?" the vice president asks, with that lopsided smile that Olga's heart isn't ready for this early in the morning.

"Y-yes, sorry, come in." Olga steps aside to let her through, painfully aware that she's red as a ripe tomato. "It's just that I've never seen you in jeans before — I mean, you own jeans…" she babbles, and stops when she realizes how stupid that sounds.

"Will you fall over if I tell you I own pajamas, too?" Marina teases, somewhere between amused and surprised by the reaction. They're just pants, the ones she usually wears when she's not working.

Olga lets out an embarrassed little laugh and stares at the bag her boss is carrying.

"I don't know if you've had breakfast, but I didn't have time, so I brought some croissants."

"I love croissants — come on, I'll make coffee."

They don't bother sitting down. While Olga sets up the coffee machine, Marina has already opened the bag and grabbed one, stretching her arm out so her assistant can take another.

"Sorry if I'm being rude," Marina says, leaning against the counter, "but I was starving."

Olga can barely answer. She's so stunned to have this woman casually eating in her kitchen with the same composure she has at the office that she can barely string two words together.

She pours the coffee into two mugs and leans against the counter next to her boss, focusing on chewing so she doesn't have to look at her.

"Nice apartment, by the way," the vice president remarks. She's only seen part of the living room and the kitchen, but she likes the light and, above all, the warmth she can feel inside.

"Thank you. I'm hoping to keep it," Olga replies, coffee in hand.