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Huh. “Well, thank you.”
When she’s gone, I buzz Hammond, but he doesn’t answer.
The meeting memo dings on my computer. Bailey’s sent it out.
I work straight through lunch. Bailey brings me a sandwich from my favorite shop, but we don’t exchange any random talk.
It’s better this way. Keep our personal matters to after hours.
At two o’clock, I pick up my card with a few scrawled notes. I need to address Bailey’s return to our office. Make a few jokes about the cruise. And focus on projections and quarterly reports. Get us past the rumors and back to business.
I’ll grab Hammond afterward to talk about Blake Samuels.
It’s a good plan.
When I step inside the large meeting room lined with rows of chairs, the majority of the company is assembled. Bailey sits in the front row, pen poised over a notebook.
“Hello, everyone. I assume you’ve all recovered from the excitement of the cruise? I think I’ve had enough beach to last me a good long time.”
There’s muted laughter. Good start.
“Our head of human resources, Gloria Rivers, was good enough to bring me binders of paperwork during the trip—see, it wasn’t all play and no work.”
I pause for their low laughs.
“And between that data and some conversations with my assistant Bailey Johansson, we realized we acted too hastily on some matters involving requisitions that had been incorrectly categorized.”
I spot Sarah nodding in approval.
All right. This is good.
There are no snarky remarks, not that I expected any to my face, but nobody seems to be whispering either.
I keep going. “So effective yesterday, Bailey has resumed her position with my apologies for not digging deeply enough before that hasty action.”
Eyes shift in her direction. She gives a small wave then swiftly starts writing on her paper like her life depends on it.
Rather than allow time for any questions that I might not be ready to field, I plow forward. “Now, let’s focus on the third-quarter projections.”
I’m about to launch into it when the door to the room flies open so hard that the handle smacks the wall with a loud crack.
Everyone turns to the sound.
Great.
It’s Viola.
37
BAILEY
Holy hotcakes, Viola just crashed the company meeting.
She’s not dressed for work, wearing denim shorts and a red tank top. Her hair is in a messy top knot.
For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. I look up at Rhett, who is perfectly composed in his gray pinstripe suit.
Gloria stands. “Viola, let’s head to my office to discuss your absences.”
