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“Depends on how personal, but I’m listening.” I settle in my chair.
“You aren’t…” She lowers her voice. “Married, are you, Mr. Thatcher?”
“No.” My eyebrows crease. “How did you notice?”
“There’s no ring on your finger. I’m very observant. It’s a skill I need to relate with people.”
I’ll give her that.“I…” I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “My wife passed away.”
“Oh no!” She presses her fingers to her lips. “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. But thank you.”
“Don’t you get…” She places a hand over mine. “... I don’t know, lonely?”
I withdraw my hand from hers, frowning. What is she playing at?
“That is not something that concerns you. You can leave now, Miss Carter. I have a lot of work to do.”
“We’ll talk later, Mr. Thatcher. I want you to see me as a friend. If you can.”
Turning on her heels, she strides out of my office.
I heave a long sigh. I have enough issues trying to get things in order, and I don’t need an employee – and an important one at that – acting inappropriately around me.
Another knock on my door. I clench my fists, stopping short of bellowing an order.
“Come in.”
If it’sSara again…
It’s Derrick, my assistant. He runs his hand over his smooth, black hair before entering.
“Chris Burnham from the marketing department requests a meeting with you, sir. Says it’s important. Something about boosting the company’s image, just like you planned.”
I rise to my feet. This is huge. If Chris’s plan is a viable one, I just might make this work.
“Tell him to meet me in the closed conference room in five minutes.”
“Alright, sir.” He exits the office.
I straighten my crimson tie, check if the cuffs in my suit aren’t out of place and comb my hair with my fingers, before grabbing my phone and notepad. Impatient to hear Chris’s idea, I hurry to the conference room.
In the empty conference room, I sit by a small oak meeting table instead of the larger and longer mahogany roundtable. I’m going over my notes on HireCorp’s web presence and existing social media outreach when the automatic doors slide open. Chris breezes in, glancing around. His eyes meet mine and he walks over.
“Looking sharp, Chris.” I extend a hand, smiling.
“Thanks, Mr. Thatcher.” He shakes it, his eyes twinkling.
“Derrick told me you wanted to meet me. He said it was urgent. What’s the matter?”
A wide smile plasters on his face. “I have a proposal, sir. A marketing strategy that’ll blow your mind.”
I could use some ideas.
“So? What’s the idea?”
He takes a deep breath. “A PR event, Mr. Thatcher.”
