AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I swear I heard Lewis say the cutoff was 7:30, but then again, I wasn’t really paying close attention. I don’t know for certain if this was my mistake or his, and it’s not like I can march up to my boss and accuse him of telling me the wrong time. This will fall on my head, I know it.
“I’m sorry,” the printer says with a shake of his head. “I don’t have it done yet. Wish I did. I’m happy to get it going though, and you’ll definitely have it by five.”
Finally, my manners kick in. This man is not liable for my mistake. However much shit I’m going to catch for this, it’s not his fault.
“No. Thank you. I’m…it’s okay. I’m sorry for getting the time wrong.”
I could cry. Those tears are good and ready.Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.I repeat the chant in my head while I try to navigate booking it to the office as quickly as possible. Of course, traffic is a nightmare, and I end up cutting my Uber ride short, tipping my driver, apologizing, and then flat-out sprinting the last few yards to the Banks and Barclay building.
I nearly run right past security, and the guard has to shout for me to come back and scan my badge. His chastising glare does nothing to help curb my anxiety.
The entire time in the Uber, I was trying to reach someone at the office—to alert them about the booklets as soon as possible—but no one was answering the main Banks and Barclay line, and I don’t have anyone’s direct number saved to my phone. I try to get through on the main line again as I step onto the elevator, but as the doors close, the call drops.
I force in deep shaky breaths, trying to wrangle my emotions to the best of my ability. Then I step off the elevator onto the seventh floor and find my team crowded around the conference room, obviously waiting on me.
Lewis rushes over, looking relieved.
“Let me see the booklets,” he says, waving his hand for me to pass them over.
“I tried to call you…”
He looks down at my empty hands and my bag that’s much too small to be stuffed with 40 bound booklets.
“I-I didn’t submit the file to the printer on time. I thought you said I had until 7:30, but—”
“You don’t have the booklets?”
His eyes widen in panic, which only makesmepanic more.
“They weren’t ready.”
He steps an inch closer and lowers his voice. “Everyone is waiting in the conference room, Emelia.”
“I could go print them now. Just…I could use the printer at our station and then I could staple everything quickly…”
My voice dwindles away as he pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. I wince when he curses.
“There’s no time. Let’s go.”
He walks away, leaving me standing there as the rest of my team stares on. Hugo and Meera shoot me empathetic looks, but that’s it. Everyone else follows Lewis’ lead. The annoyed glares are hard to ignore as I stow my things quickly at my desk and trail behind everyone into the conference room, where sure enough, the entire Belle Haven team is sitting and waiting. I’m the last person to arrive at the meeting.
I peer over at the head of the long conference table, knowing what I’ll find. Professor Barclay is back. He sits beside Mr. Banks, and though they’re talking quietly, he doesn’t miss my entrance. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, my heart threatens to fissure, and then I look away, conscious of the fact that I’m barely keeping it together. I’m sure my eyes are watering and my face is red. My hands are squeezed into tight fists at my sides. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have to endure this meeting, and I wish, most of all, he wasn’t here to witness my failure.
The conservation team stays clustered in the corner up front while Lewis begins to speak. He wastes no time before throwing me under the bus. After he thanks everyone for their attendance, he apologizes for the fact that we’ll only be working off the digital component of the presentation, displayed on the monitor behind him.
“A member of our team failed to get the printed booklets in time, and though it will be hard to follow along, we’ll make do.”
I don’t miss the fact that Inés takes a half-step away from me as if trying to distance herself from my mess-up.
The subtle jabs don’t stop. Over the course of fifteen minutes, Lewis only makes me feel worse: “You would have been able to see this better with the booklet in front of you, but what I’m talking about are these windows here” and “In the booklet we had a photo that’s not included up here that would have shown you the detail work on this section of the exterior stone.”
My head is hung in shame the entire time.
Then begins the fun part as each member of the conservation team steps up one by one to discuss their specific portion of the presentation. For instance, Hugo was assigned the atrium at the front of the house. He brings to light a few challenges we face there with the glass ceiling and iron work. Meera speaks after him to go over the grand staircase and foyer. I’m covering the Tiffany glass windows, and I’m a nervous wreck as Meera moves aside and lets me push to the front of the small group of conservationists so all eyes are on me. Even on a good day, I would have been nervous to speak in front of a room filled with so many important people. Today, I’m almost paralyzed by it.
“Next, I’ll be discussing the windows in the breakfast nook.”
“Speak up, please,” someone says.
