Page 6 of Loving Jemima
Her parking space required reversing, never one of Jem’s better skills, but she was used to it by now. Swinging the car around past the space she glanced backward to make sure she was lined up correctly and took her foot off the brake to begin sliding back.
She’d just touched the accelerator when she saw a glimpse of orange in her rearview mirror.
Panicking, she wanted to hit the brake but hit the gas instead, twisting the steering wheel around as she turned. It took a splitsecond.
The sound of the car hitting the brick wall was almost a scream, the screeching of metal told her that there was no way she was going to get away with just a scratch.
“God damn it,” she shouted, the engine shuddering to a stop.
The orange cat skulked out from the parking space before slinking across the road in front of her.
Jem closed her eyes.
Today was really not her day.
Chapter Three
Ellie crossed her legs and then wished she hadn’t. Crossing them made her skirt ride up a little too far and the last thing she wanted was for Alistair Darlington to think that she was trying to hit on him.
But if she uncrossed them now, then she’d look indecisive, which was equally the last thing she wanted. And if she started tugging at her skirt she’d look like a primary school kid who had to go to the toilet.
“… quite a small company?”
She switched back from the legs/skirt issue just in time to hear the end of the question. Now she had to make up a beginning for the question that hopefully fit whatever was being asked. Christ, this was going terribly. Focus.
“We are a boutique firm,” she said, voice strong and steady. “Which means we can more easily personalize our services to give the client exactly what they need.”
Very good, that was excellent.
This could be the break she’d been waiting for, praying for really.
She tried to look around the huge office without actually gaping. There was enough leather to clad a biker gang and the vase on the plinth by the door looked like it had been dug up just the day before. Honestly, this man had more money than he could ever possibly spend. How was that fair?
How was it fair that some people got to have eight cows worth of leather in an office and others had to live on cup noodles for the last week before payday?
“I will be honest with you, Ms. Baker, it is not my role as company president to be interviewing party planners.”
“Executive function logistical managers,” Elle said quickly. She almost thought she saw a sparkle in his eye.
“Indeed,” he said, lips perhaps twitching a little at the corners. “However, this event is extremely important, and quite personal to me.”
“Oh?” she asked, looking politely interested and wondering if it could be as personal to him as it was becoming to her. This contract would make her name known among those that mattered. Those that could pay her bills.
Maybe then she could afford a new interview suit that had a slightly longer skirt. And that didn’t have Constable’s claw marks on the back of it.
“My great grandfather incorporated this company a hundred and fifty years ago,” he said.
Which just made Ellie think about a hundred and fifty years of old white men with mustaches having more money than was good for them.
Alistair Darlington cleared his throat. “And I intend to announce my retirement at this event.”
“You do?” Ellie said, surprised now. He looked sort of old, she supposed, but not that old.
“That’s between you and I,” he said, looking somewhat surprised himself that he’d told her. “But I have a son waiting in the wings, and I know what it’s like to be the heir apparent, chomping at the bit to get started. So I’ve decided to give Jasper his turn, to let the younger generation take over. Finance is a young man’s game, at least investments are.”
“Mmm,” said Ellie noncommittally. Like she had any idea what he was talking about. Her idea of investment was buying Crunchie bars right after payday and hiding them in the back of the cupboard so she could find them when she was broke again.
“So, as you can see, this is a very important event.” He smiled at her.