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“In case you are concerned about changes, don’t be… At least not yet.” A ripple of nervous laughter titters around the office space. Yeah. I’ll bet I’ll be the first to go. “If, um, you have no objections, I will be here for a few days.” And what if I do have objections, buddy? “I want to observe you in your roles to see the daily operations.” Oh, dear lord. I want to die. I don’t want this guy hovering around while I’m trying to slack off. “I will, how you say? Shadow you. I hope that is correct? Yes.” No, no, no! I’m screaming inside. Others around me make low noises of assent.
“A fly on the wall and not in the ointment. Haha,” says Nigel in his blustery way. No one laughs.
“I apologize for my English,” the grey suit says. “I hope to improve quickly and with your help. Good. So, I know you are all professional people. You like to do your best. The last thing I want is for you to feel a stranger for me.”
I’m not even listening to what he is saying anymore. Blah blah blah. The last thing I want is for my boss to be here lurking, waiting to catch me out. It is going to be horrible. It has been just fine with the silent owners whom we never ever saw and only communicated via generic email. I miss those people I never met. Bring back those happy days.
I can see Mr Moretti clearer now, although he is still in and out of the frame made by the arm of Margot’s silk shirt. His dark wavy hair is swept back from his tanned forehead. I can’t see his face properly, but the bits I can see look grumpy. He certainly has an air of snobby sophistication. Not approachable at all. Oh, he’s one of those entitled European aristocrats. Living on a trust fund or daddy’s inheritance. He turns and leans to the side, out of my eyeline.
“So, please enjoy your day. And I will enjoy getting to know you.” Well, I don’t want to get to know you! I duck down in a sulk behind Margot. My new boss is utterly conceited and stuck up. I hate him and he’s probably going to fire me at his earliest convenience.
Chapter 6
Gianni
ItislikeIam the mean headmaster at school. The employees at the gallery were seriously scared of me. Am I scary? I don’t know. I kept thinking, ‘What are they hiding?’ But then, I think, people don’t enjoy change that much. So, I am a new boss. I need to be patient. I am here for a few days. I’ll meet the team, take some notes, write a brief report for the board. And then I will put together some recommendations for improvements when I know more about how the people at Mayfair & Lewis run the business.
I finish my hello speech and sit at the desk with the furry green rabbit on it. The toy has funny googly eyes that give the rabbit a crazy stare. The funny bunny eyes watch me open my laptop and check my schedule to a background hubbub of people getting ready to begin their day. Phones ring and the door is re-opened.
Margot, the office manager, seems very competent and has collated details of employees for me: a document with headshots. It’s helpful for me to put a name to a face. I scroll down the document. The salespeople. The acquisition department. The admin office people. My cursor hovers over the photo of Olivia Morgan. Her heavy dark-rimmed glasses don’t suit her. They seem too big for her face. Her hair is too severe, I think. How old? I check the information next to the picture. Only twenty-eight. Three years younger than me. She looks older. I’m aware that I’m being watched, although when I lift my gaze to see who it is, no one is there. It must be the bunny. As I resume scrolling through the staff photos, Margot approaches, attracting my attention.
“Mr Moretti,” Margot says. “I have our client lists you asked for and the week’s appointments.” Her iPad is in her hand. “The sales staff are ready for their briefing now.”
I step away from the desk and follow Margot through the main office and down a corridor. Glancing back over my shoulder, I notice a small, mousey woman wearing glasses. She awkwardly sidles into the chair I have just vacated. Her shoulders are hunched, her head down as if she would rather not be noticed at all. She logs into her laptop and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Olivia Morgan is plain and serious. She looks like the kind of woman who does not expect much from life so not much from life is delivered. Perhaps she is shy.
Right. It is going to be a busy week for me. Margot ushers me through the adjoining office to where the sales team, Davis and Nigel, are waiting. My plan is to accompany one of them today and another one tomorrow. They are going to share with me their lists of current clients and a calendar of auctions this month. The briefing is straightforward enough, but again I get the feeling that they are wary and defensive, that I want to catch them out.
I am being courteous, but my English is a little rusty, and perhaps my tone is too harsh. Luisa tells me often that I look grumpy.
“Papa don’t do that with your face,” she says as her little hands attempt to smooth the lines away from my forehead.
“What am I doing?”
“This.” Luisa scowls, knitting her brow heavy over her deep brown eyes showing me what I must look like.
“Gosh, am I really that ugly and mean-looking?” I laugh.
“Yes.”
Maybe my face betrays the discomfort of my physical injury. Maybe my emotional world isn’t as hidden as I would like it to be. But I am here to build a lucrative business enterprise. I have a lot to prove. And I am the boss after all.
As I leave, with Davis, a man walks into the office carrying a package. Margot introduces him as Henry Winter.
“Ah, you are the new owner of M&L.” Henry carefully puts the package on the central table and extends a hand in welcome. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I have The Duchess of Monmouth. She’s just been cleaned up, if you would like to have a look?”
Davis hovers by the door and says we should leave for an important client appointment.
“Thanks, but I have to go now,” I nod to Davis. I should be moving along out of the gallery, but I love to see a newly restored picture. When the colors shine as new and bright as the day they were applied and the years of built-up dirt are cleaned away to show the beauty underneath, that’s a magic moment. “But I’ll be interested to see her when I get back.”
“Sure, I’ll unwrap her and leave her here for you.” Henry nods and smiles, then he says casually, “Where’s Olivia?” I follow Henry’s gaze to the vacant chair at the desk with the green funny bunny. “Oh, she has probably gone to get an easel.”
Davis coughs at the doorway taking my attention from Henry and the painting.
“We should go now, Mr Moretti,” he says with more than a hint of urgency.
Chapter 7
Olivia
