Sighing, I picked up my desk phone and called Taylor.
“Yes, Mr. Parker?” he answered on the first ring.
“You forgot to bring me my short-list this morning.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Be right there.” He ended the call and walked into my office a few seconds later.
He was a decent assistant, although he struggled to understand the art of sarcasm and he couldn’t get my coffee right to save his life. I’d given up on asking him to get it, and had even used Tara’s Do It Your Goddamn Self list to complete certain aspects of his job.
“Are you going to start giving me some of your updates, Taylor?” I asked. “Now would be a good time.”
“Right. Well, I have everything set for your meeting this Friday.” He tapped his lip. “I also have your schedule finalized for your conference in Florida next month. Also, Violet’s birthday party planner said she'd be calling you soon.”
“I already threw Violet a birthday party this year. It was a trip to Disney World.”
“Yeah, but—” He crossed his arms. “You said that Violet was adjusting to New York at a rapid rate with her new friends and at the rate she was going, she’d want a party at Grand Central Station. I figured you’d want to start planning for that now, right?”
“That was sarcasm, Taylor.”
“It didn’t sound like sarcasm. It sounded like you were serious.”
“That’s the entire point of sarcasm.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m taking her to Disney World next year for her party. In fact, her birthday parties will be there until she turns nine.”
“You can afford to rent out a section of Grand Central Station for a night, though. I think she’d much prefer that, don’t you think?”
“Get the hell out of my office, Taylor.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
I gave him a blank stare and held back a sigh. “Thank you for your work today. You can go home early if you need to.”
“Can I say something before I leave, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“Well, don’t take this personally, but I can’t help who I am, and I’d appreciate it if you accepted that I’m not Tara. I’ll never be Tara, either.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“Today is the first time you’ve called me by my name, and you expect me to know all of the things she does. It’s only been a few weeks, so could you please give me a chance as an individual, without all the expectations and things you had with her? That’s all I’m asking.”
He placed a folder on my desk, not giving me a chance to answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”
Three Weeks Later
Thirty-Seven
Tara
I never thought I would see the day when I would miss working for Preston, but this morning was making me wonder if I should’ve stayed a little while longer. My calendar was empty, my task list was complete, and most of the staff was attending a training session that would keep them busy for the rest of the day.
Leaning back in my chair, I stared at the mountain of delivered gifts that was sitting in my corner. I had yet to touch any of them, and I wanted to make it to the four-week mark before I even looked at one of the attached cards, but with another blank afternoon, I was tempted to cave.
Before I could open the closest package, an email from my CEO popped onto the screen.
* * *
Subject: IDEAS NEEDED
Hey everyone,
Just letting you know that I’m in need of some hosting ideas for a conference I want to hold for some executive friends this month. This would be for the first session regarding the Autumn Promotional Campaign we’re running next year, so please let me know if you have any.
Please don’t share this email with anyone who is not a B-level or C-level employee.
Mark Greywood
CEO of Marriott International
* * *
I immediately pulled out the folder of ideas I was working on last week and made my way to his office. Knocking, I cleared my throat as I stepped into the room.
“Well, hello there, Miss Lauren.” He smiled at me as I walked inside, smoothing his greying hair. “How are you today?”
“I’m great. I was wondering if I could talk with you for a minute.”
“Of course, of course.” He gestured for me to have a seat and handed me a basket of bread. “Try a few of these mini-rolls first. They’re amazing.”
I hesitated.
“No worries, Miss Lauren,” he said. “They’re gluten-free.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and tried one. Then another, and another.
“Amazing, right?” He laughed. “I can’t get enough of these damn things. The chef who made these is out of this world, and he’ll be cooking for the B and C-level executives in a private party tomorrow before he starts his residency at our downtown hotel.”
Why didn’t I get an invite to that? “That sounds great. I wanted to show you some ideas for the conference you’re hosting for the executives. Since it will be a fall-themed campaign, you should make sure that everything about their trip from start to finish will fit that theme to heighten the brainstorming sessions.” I opened my folder. “If you’ll give me five minutes—”
“I didn’t know I included you on that email.” He interrupted me. “I don’t need any ideas from you, Miss Lauren. I’m sure they’re amazing, but this is a man’s job, as you know.”
“No, I don’t know. What do you mean?”
“I mean, all I hired you to do was be the interim.” He smiled. “So, be the interim. Do the few small things in the morning from my short-list, handle your inbox, and rest your pretty little head while the guys run everything else.”
“I contributed to all the marketing campaigns at Parker International,” I said. “It wasn’t even in my job description, and some of my ideas were better than the damn Marketing Director’s.”
“Like I’ll believe that.” He tilted his head to the side, giving me his patronizing smile. “The Preston Parker I know wouldn’t dare let a woman have any input on anything except how short he likes her skirt.”
“He’s not like that at all.” I paused. “A good idea was a good idea, no matter who it came from.”
“Nice try, Miss Lauren.” He winked at me. “But I’m pretty sure I know Mr. Parker far better than you do. He’s been at this for over a decade, just like I have, and the only reason he’s number one is because he’s slightly more ruthless than we are, but it’s also because we always have the right thinkers in the room. The guys.”
“Okay, look.” I wasn’t going to put up with this for a full year. “I would appreciate it if you would just listen to what I have to say before making any—” I sneezed. “Sorry. As I was saying—” I sneezed again.
He bit into another mini-roll. “Something wrong, Miss Lauren?”
“Was there any garlic in those?”