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“I don’t think that’s going to work out. I have high hopes for this new match, but I need to keep working on my boss.” Anne stopped, remembering what Katie had said about gossiping. “Listen, that has to be our secret. You can’t tell anyone I’m trying to find a match for Mr. Gherring.”
“No worries, honey. My lips are sealed. They couldn’t drag that information outta me even if they tortured me. I won’t tell a soul… unless someone offers to give me a good neck massage. Then my lips will go all loosey-goosey.” May started laughing.
“I’m serious. Katie says I’m never supposed to get involved in Mr. Gherring’s private life. I could lose my job.”
“Really dear, I won’t tell anybody.”
Lunch arrived at precisely twelve thirty. Anne attempted to help serve the food in the conference room to speed things up, but Gherring took the food bags from the delivery boy and shut the door before she could even peek inside. The smell of the food was mouth-watering, and Anne waited impatiently for her lunch to arrive, drinking water to quiet her growling stomach. Sam appeared at one fifteen with her lunch—chicken smothered in some kind of wonderful mushroom cream sauce.
Anne attacked her food with a vengeance while interrogating Sam about her lunch date. “Did you like him? Did y’all have anything to talk about? He’s so shy, but you’ve got to admit he’s really cute.”
Sam chuckled. “Yes, yes and yes. He is so shy I thought we weren’t going to be able to carry on a conversation. That is, he was so shy, until he found out I like the Beatles. Turns out he’s a nut for the Beatles just like me, and he has a great collection of vinyls. He pulled out my chair for me, waited for me to go through every door first, and insisted on buying lunch. So, yes, he’s really sweet and we’re going Wednesday night to hear a Beatles cover band.”
“I knew it!”
“Don’t look so smug. We’re not engaged. We’re just listening to music together. And anyway, last week you were trying to set me up with—”
“Shhhh!” warned Anne, glancing toward the conference room. “I admit I messed up on that one, but don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Okay, I won’t tell anyone.” Sam rolled her eyes. “They wouldn’t believe it anyway.”
“But if things work out with Tanner, I want full credit.”
Anne waited until five forty-five for the meeting to end, hoping to have a chance to see Henri. The door opened and Gherring peered out. When he spotted Anne at her desk, he looked decidedly irritated. “You’re still here?”
“I thought you might need me for something before you go home.”
“No, I don’t. Wait, I do need something.” He closed the conference room door and stepped toward his office. “I need for you to check something on my calendar.” She followed him into his office, and he motioned for her to sit behind his desk. “Would you mind pulling up my calendar for the week? I’ll be right back.”
He stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Anne pulled up his calendar, puzzling over what his problem might be. They’d been working on the week’s schedule, squeezing in meetings at every possible moment with little wasted time. Gherring didn’t believe in frivolity and only engaged in social functions when absolutely necessary. Hence, the single formal gala at the end of an exhausting week of meeting, planning, and negotiating. Gherring returned, looking happier and relaxed.
“What did you want me to check on your calendar? Do you need to change something? I hope you don’t need to add another appointment. I’ll have to schedule it at midnight.”
“No, I just want to make sure our calendars match.”
Anne stared at him in confusion. “Of course they match—they’re synced automatically.”
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Gherring straightened a few items on his desk, not even looking at his computer. “That’s great, Ms. Best. You can go now.”
Anne walked out of Gherring’s office, giving him a wide berth. She noticed the conference room door was open, but as she approached she saw the room was dark and empty. Realizing he’d purposely hidden her until Henri was gone, she fumed inwardly.
She turned to find Gherring smiling from his office door. “Goodnight, Ms. Best. I’ll see you in the morning. It’s getting rather late. Would you like a lift home?”
“No, but thank you. Sir.” She retrieved her comfy shoes from under her desk and changed into them.
“I think sir is a bit much.” Tall and imposing, Gherring stood in front of her desk. But Anne refused to be intimidated. “I’m not that much older than you.”
“Yet you’re treating me like a child. I know you hid me in here to keep Henri away from me.”
“That man’s not safe. You can’t trust him.”
“You think he would hurt me?”
“Physically, no. Emotionally, yes. He flits from one woman to another. He’s a… he’s a…”
“Player?” Anne offered the term the media often used to describe Gherring. Did he not see the irony?
“Yes, he’s a player.” Gherring followed her to the elevator.
