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“Just because you’re photographing a banker doesn’t mean that you have to look like one,” he laughs. “That’s completely fine.”
George gives me instructions to take the elevator to the 19th floor when I arrive. “Anita, my assistant, will be waiting for you.”
Ducking into a coffee shop, I grab a quick latte and slip into the restroom to freshen up. My hair is a mess from all the wind, and I run a comb through the wild tangles, trying to bring it back under control but to no avail. My cheeks are rosy from the cold. I would prefer to meet George looking a little more composed, but I suppose this will have to do.
Exiting the subway, I make my way to the Advent Building. I hope I don’t run into my uncle. He’s still a little miffed at me. I doubt seeing me waltz in here in jeans and a sweater will help. Sometimes I wonder why he is so fixated on propriety and formality. I guess it’s a pre-requisite for being an accountant. Sometimes I wonder if I will be able to fit in once I’ve graduated from the MBA program. I can wear the “uniform” for a while, but it is definitely not my natural skin. Still, he reminds me that there are sacrifices in order to earn a decent living and be responsible. “They don’t call it a work for nothing,” he is always fond of saying.
When the elevator opens, I step out into a lushly appointed waiting room. At the center is a woman I recognize from the party. She looks up at me as I enter, smiling professionally. “You must be Ivy.” She steps around from behind her desk and extends her hand to me. “I’m Anita, Mr. Embry’s assistant.” She indicates a comfortable looking chair. “He’s on a call right now, but it shouldn’t be long. Can I get you anything? Water?”
I nod, feeling a bit awkward. “Water would be nice.” Looking around the waiting room, I am in awe. Mahogany furniture is a perfect pairing to the rich wood molding, giving an air of commanding elegance. Off to the side is a large window overlooking the city. A perfectly decorated tree is centered in front of it. It’s beautiful, yet it somehow seems…too perfect, almost intimidating. Perhaps that’s the intent.
Anita returns, handing me a glass of water. “I recognize you from the Christmas party this past weekend. You’re Owen Renoyld’s niece, right? I understand you will be doing a professional portfolio for Mr. Embry.” Her gaze takes me in from head to toe. “Artists are so free-spirited.”
Feeling a bit self-conscious under her scrutiny, I attempt to smooth my wild mass of curls. “Actually, I’m in the MBA program at NYU. Mr. Embry caught me a bit off-guard suggesting a meeting so suddenly, otherwise I would be more prepared. But, yes, I am a photographer. It’s always been my secret passion.”
Anita’s eyes narrow a tad. I can’t quite discern what she’s thinking, but I sense disapproval. For the life of me, I can’t understand why. She doesn’t even know me.
George (Mr. Embry, I try and remind myself) emerges from behind a heavy wooden door beside Anita’s desk. “Ivy, it’s good to see you again.” He reaches out his hand.
I stand up, accepting it as his hand closes warmly around mine. “It’s good to see you again, too.” Acutely aware of Anita’s watchful eyes, I pull my hand away quickly, startled by the electricity at his touch.
George looks over at his assistant. “I know you were planning to leave early to do some Christmas shopping, Anita. Don’t feel like you need to change your plans on account of this.”
Anita looks from him to me, clearly doubtful. “I guess I’ll be leaving then. Don’t forget, Mr. Embry, that you have a meeting with Theo Eaton at seven in the morning. I’ve arranged to have a light breakfast brought in.”
“I won’t forget,” he reassures her. “Thank you for taking care of everything, Anita. Now, go get your granddaughter that toy they’re holding for you until five.”
Anita grins as she picks up her purse. “It’s good to have friends in retail, but they can only hold onto something for so long.”
George turns to me, indicating the doorway from which he just came. “After you.”
If the waiting area was impressive, his office is one of subtle power and richness. Large windows overlooking the city line two walls. Standing in the middle, dressed impeccably in his suit, George is the epitome of the successful businessman.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks. “A cup of coffee?”
Shaking my head, I indicate the water Anita had given me earlier.
While he pours himself a cup of coffee, I pull my camera from my bag. He looks powerful and relaxed at the same time, exactly what I want to show in his portfolio. Quietly, I take a picture of him and review the results. I like it.
George looks up, surprised. “I didn’t realize we were taking pictures today.”
Grinning, I tuck my camera back into my purse. “I saw a moment, so I took it.” I gesture to the office surrounding us. “All of this spells power…and formality. You pouring coffee, that makes you more human.”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Are you saying I seem less than human?”
Perhaps I should have worded it more carefully. “No. I think it’s just easy for you to be misunderstood.”
George gives me a thoughtful look. “You may be right. I don’t suppose I’ve looked at it from that angle.”
“It’s hard to do. We never really see ourselves the way others do,” I tell him as I take a seat in one of the chairs.
He takes the chair opposite me. “So, tell me, how do you want to go about the photoshoot?”
Pausing thoughtfully, I take a sip of my water. “I guess that’s up to you. I was thinking of doing some shots that aren’t so ‘business-like’, make you seem more approachable. You may be wanting something more conservative, though.”
George smiles subtly. “I think you read my mind.”
“Good,” I say with a self-satisfied smile. “I was thinking maybe some outdoor photos in addition to the more traditional desk shots.”
