1
Everly
Call me weird, but I didn’t hate Monday mornings.
Every Monday was a fresh start. A chance to shake off the previous week—or in my case, the disastrous events of the weekend—and move forward.
I didn’t want to think about how many Mondays over the last several months I’d felt the need to put a bad first date behind me. But now wasn’t the time to ponder my terrible dating luck—even though it was pretty horrific. I’d dish to my girlfriends about it tonight. Over martinis, of course.
For now, I had work to do. And here, in this office, I wasn’t Everly Dalton, serial dating disaster. I was Everly Dalton, executive assistant. And I was damn good at my job.
“Good morning, Everly.”
I smiled at Nina, the front receptionist. “Good morning. I love your hair today.”
Her smile brightened. “Thank you.”
I walked down the hallway, smiling and greeting my coworkers. They all said hi and smiled in return. Even Leslie—who hated mornings more than anyone I knew—cracked a little grin over her coffee.
“Morning, sunshine,” Steve said. He was dressed in his usual plaid button-down shirt and brown cardigan. He wasn’t that much older than me—maybe five or six years—but his clothes made him look like a grandpa from the fifties. I was pretty sure that after work he changed into another cardigan that had a zipper, and probably brown slippers. But he was super nice.
“Morning, Steve,” I said. He liked to think he’d nicknamed me sunshine, but he was probably the tenth person to do so over the course of my life. Maybe it was because I wore so much yellow—my favorite color—or because I smiled a lot. His desk was near mine, just across the aisle, so we chatted pretty often. “How’s Millie?”
“I think I need to modify her diet again. I might eliminate fish to see if it helps improve her mood.”
Millie was Steve’s cat, and he was forever tweaking her diet, hoping it would make her be less of an asshole. I’d never had the heart to tell him that Millie was just an old cranky cat, and no special diet would ever make her nice. But it would have crushed him to hear that his cat hated him and probably wanted to murder his face.
“Sounds like a good plan. Keep me posted.”
“I sure will,” he said and went back to his desk.
Did I really want to hear all about Millie’s diet? Not particularly. But it made Steve happy to have someone who listened, so I endured a little bit of cat conversation now and then. I figured if more people made an effort to be friendly, the world would be a much better place.
The truth was, I liked making people happy. It was my catnip. Getting someone grouchy to smile? Best high ever. Like Leslie, Miss I-Hate-Mornings. She’d been resistant to my drive-by good mornings for a while. But eventually I’d worn her down. Stopping by with breakfast muffins and strong espresso a few times had done the trick.
Everyone had a chink in their armor—a place I could get in to find their happy side. Even the grumpiest people were no match for Everly Dalton’s sunshine.
Except one man.
Like a cloud passing in front of the sun, casting a dark shadow, a chill spread across the office. I glanced at the time. Eight twenty-seven. Right on time.
His entrance onto the floor created a ripple, like tossing a rock into still water. It radiated out ahead of him, warning everyone of his arrival. The only person I’d ever met who was impervious to my happy-making. My boss, Shepherd Calloway.
Steve looked up at me and winced. I pretended not to notice. I knew he felt sorry for me. Working for Mr. Calloway was not easy. He was cold, harsh, and demanding. He never said thank you, or gave any sort of praise. I’d lived in terror for the first few months I’d worked for him, positive he was going to fire me. He always seemed so angry.
But after a while, I realized that was just the way he was. He wasn’t angry at me. In fact, he barely noticed me. Sometimes I wondered whether he’d recognize me if he had to pick me out of a police lineup. He so rarely looked directly at my face that I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he didn’t really know what I looked like.
I was pretty sure he knew my name, although he never called me Everly. He never called me anything, really. Just said what he needed to say, without addressing me first. No greetings. No goodbyes. Just, what’s on my calendar today? Or, send me the files before my meeting.
The ripple strengthened and I heard his footsteps over the sudden hushed silence on our floor. I stood, grabbed a stack of paperwork and his coffee—black, just like his heart—and waited.
He didn’t look at anyone as he walked down the hall toward his office. No side glances or nods at his employees. Just his steady gait—a man in a perfectly-tailored suit striding toward his office. His dark hair perfectly styled, his stubble perfectly trimmed.
Without so much as a glance in my direction, he walked past my desk. I fell in step behind him as the clock ticked over to eight twenty-eight.
I followed him into his office and set his coffee on his desk, six inches from the edge and slightly off-center, where he wouldn’t knock it over when he took off his jacket or bump it when he set down his laptop. I picked up a remote and opened the blinds, stopping them before they let in too much light. He took off his suit jacket, and I was there to take it and hang it on the coat tree near the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Calloway,” I said, my voice bright.
He didn’t answer. He never did. Not once had he said good morning in return. But I still did it. Every single day. It was part of our routine, so it would have felt weird not to say it.
He sat and opened his laptop. Grabbed his coffee without looking for it and took a sip.
“Did the lawyer from Duggan and Nolan send over what I asked for?” His voice was smooth and even, without a hint of emotion. Everything he said was delivered in that same tone. People were terrified of Shepherd Calloway, but it wasn’t because he yelled. He didn’t get loud and berate people when they made mistakes. He froze them. His ice-blue eyes and low voice were more chilling than any tirade could have been. He was a man who could make your heart stop with a glare.
“Yep, no issues there.” I placed a thick manila envelope on the side of his desk.
He touched it with two fingers and shifted it up about an inch.
“I also have something for you from Mark in Accounting.” I set a file folder directly on top of the envelope, making sure the edges lined up nicely.
“Why didn’t he give it to me himself?” he asked.
Because everyone is afraid of you, so they come to my desk early and pretend they didn’t realize you wouldn’t be in your office yet. “I suppose because you weren’t in.”
He didn’t respond.
“You have meetings at ten, noon, and three.” I quickly flipped through his calendar—synced with mine—on my phone. “The noon is at McCormick and Schmick’s, and I already ordered for you. I moved your dentist appointment to next week because it was going to be too close to your three o’clock. I didn’t want you to have to rush. But check with me first before you schedule anything for next Tuesday afternoon, because we shouldn’t put that off again. Oral health is important.”
I paused, although I knew he wouldn’t reply. And he didn’t.