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“Hi, umm. Someone told me to ask for a C…something, Chancellor?” I ask in my politest tone, realizing that maybe asking forCyrilby name isn’t the best idea. “They said he could help me with an article I’m working on, but I just know the guy’s first name starts with a C.”
I realize belatedly that might not be the best thing to say, and I wince, teeth pressed together in a grimace.
“Oh. Okay, umm…” I hear typing and her voice is perplexed like I’ve asked something that doesn’t make sense. “I’m afraid I don’t see any C. Chancellors in my directory.”
“I could’ve got the name wrong,” I sigh like I’m some long-suffering intern, and my reporter bosses are working me like a dog. “I need to ask my boss.”
“I could give you a callback, if you want? Could you give me your boss’s name?” The woman asks, jumping on my words.
It gives me all the information I need. She knows who Cyril is and wonders why I’m asking about him.
“No, it’s okay,” I sigh again and reopen my laptop. “I’m really,reallybad with names. Umm, let me check my notes. Could it be…Oh!”I’m grateful that there’s aGardeniaChancellor in the registry. “Gardenia Chancellor, maybe? His G’s have a habit of looking like C’s. Is that someone I can talk to?”
I cross my fingers and pray she’s anywhere but in the office.
“Okay. Yeah, I know Gardenia.”She types away at a keyboard once more. “You say you need to speak with her for an article?”
“Yeah! About the epilepsy benefit next week,” I say, seeing the banner on their website. “That’s what my boss said.”
“Well, unfortunately, she’s out of town until next week,”the secretary informs me. “So I’ll have to take a message.”
“That’s okay,” I tell her, trying to sound reassuring. “I’ll just have my boss call back. Sorry to be a bother!”
“You’re fine!If you tell me who you’re calling on behalf of, I really don’t mind giving them a call,”the secretary says again.
But I’m already shaking my head like she can see me and backpedaling. “No, my boss told me specifically not to do that. Sorry! He’s kind of old school and thinksheshould be making the connections.” Is that even believable? God, I hope so. “Thank you so much for your help!”
Before she can say anything else, I hang up and toss my phone to the table with my laptop before sitting back with a sigh and rubbing my eyes.
Well, at least I know he really does work for his uncle and that he was telling me the truth about that.
Now I just need to know what in the world the Lost Boysdofor Chancellor.
As my eyes adjust to the gray morning light streaming in through my windows, it occurs to me that it’s not raining yet. Dark gray clouds still drift through the sky above my apartment, and I watch them off-handedly as I sigh and let out a breath, eyes closing a moment later.
I jump as my phone rings from the bedside table, vibrating across the plastic to add to the noise currently ruining my morning. It’s onlySunday, and today is the last day of my weekend. I have no idea who would be calling me in the morning.
Well, that’s a lie. It’s probably Cyril with some stupid errand for me. Or worse, Ezra wanting to go to breakfast again.
Sure enough, the number is one I don’t know, and I have the utmost suspicion that when I pick up the phone, it’s going to ruin my day.
So I do it quickly, bringing the phone to my ear and curling up under my blanket again with a mumbled, “Hello?”
“Good morning, dear,” the voice is feminine and smooth and not what I was expecting. I blink, eyes barely taking in the window in front of me as I try to place the voice.
“Who’s calling?” I ask finally, trying to keep my own voice polite. There’s still every possibility this is Lost Boys related, but I can’t figure out why a woman I don’t know is calling me, unless it’s spam, which is also incredibly likely.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I work for Chancellor Enterprises.You called yesterday about a C. Chancellor,remember?”
I sit up, feeling immediately on edge, and my skin prickles at the words. “Oh, no, I was looking for Gardenia Chancellor, remember?” I ask, letting a soft, apologetic chuckle color my words. “I just can’t read my boss’–”
“Are you sure you weren’t looking for Cyril Chancellor?” The woman cuts me off smoothly as if I wasn’t already speaking, and my brows knit together at the question.
“Who?” I ask blandly, wringing my fingers in my comforter. “Is he someone else who’s in charge of the charity event this week?” All I have to do is act stupid, act like I have no idea what she’s talking about, and hopefully, she’ll hang up.
“No, unfortunately, I don’t think he does.” Is that disappointment in her voice? “I suppose a message got jumbled by the time it found me. I’m sorry to disrupt your morning.” The connection goes dead before I can reply, and I pull the phone away from my ear to stare at the screen. It’s not the same number I called last night to reach Chancellor Enterprises, but should that surprise me? I’m sure they have different departments and people working for them.
But whycallme?
