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REGINALD:I’ll follow up on it soon
Amelia
When I walked into myoffice the next morning, my assistant, Ellen, was organizing papers into neat piles on my desk.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up at me. “The Wyatt Foundation overnighted us another box of documents. These were waiting in the mail room when I got here this morning.”
“Don’t apologize.” I tossed my briefcase on one of the blue fabric-covered chairs where my infrequent office guests sat during meetings and flopped down at my desk. “It is literally your job to bring me this stuff.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m just sorry this file will apparently outlive all of us.”
Ellen turned and left, leaving me alone with a mounting headache.
I hadn’t slept very well after getting off the phone with Reggie. It wasn’t every day that someone I’d agreed to fake date called me in the middle of the night. Apparently when it happened, so did insomnia.
Too many consecutive sleepless nights were catching up with me.
I’d hoped to get caught up on a couple of files I’d been neglecting since getting the Wyatt assignment, but considering all these new documents, I could tell that wasn’t happening.
Hopefully this batch would be responsive to my most recent requests. If they weren’t, and if once again the CFO had sent me things like promotional materials a summer intern made for their Facebook page, or ticket stubs from an Exsanguination Society fundraiser, I’d need to set up an in-person meeting soon.
I was just about to get started when Evelyn Anderson, the senior partner I reported to most frequently, rapped on my door.
She never showed up unannounced like this. What was going on?
“Evelyn,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Hi.”
At fifty-seven, with her expensive suits and perfect hair, Evelyn looked better and more effortlessly elegant than anyone had a right to at thirty. I was suddenly acutely aware of what I was wearing: slacks dark enough to hide that they were overdue for a trip to the cleaners, and the one cardigan from the pile of clothes on my bedroom chair that wasn’t covered in cat hair.
It could have been worse. But I hated how at loose ends I was. When my apartment was a mess,Iwas a mess. I felt unlike myself, and unmoored in a way that made me uncomfortable.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
In my seven years at the firm, I could count the number of times Evelyn Anderson had initiated small talk with me on one hand. I cleared my throat, hoping it masked my surprise. “Oh, you know,” I said, going for nonchalant. “It’s going.”
Evelyn leaned against the doorframe to my office, folding her lean arms across her chest. “I know the Wyatt Foundation file is a nightmare, Amelia.AndI know how hard you’re working on it.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, honestly.
“I was hoping you might give a presentation on the Wyatt Foundation to the partners once you’re on the other side of this deadline,” she said.
My heart leapt. “Really?”
Evelyn nodded. “I’ve been wanting the firm to devote more resources to helping nonprofits.” She smiled at me. “After the excellent work you’ve been doing on this file, you’d be the perfect person to help me convince the other partners.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was probably already a lock on partner, but having the attention of the same people who’d be voting on my partnership could only be good.
Even though the idea of spending even one more minute on this terrible file was repellant, and even though what Ireallywanted to do was tell Evelyn we needed to drop this client, I recognized this for the incredible compliment, and opportunity, it was.
“I’d love to present the file,” I said, meaning it.
“Good,” Evelyn said. “I’ll have my admin set up a meeting with you and the partners for about six weeks from now.” She smiled again. “Six weeks will put us after this filing deadline and give you a chance to recover from tax season.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. Six weeks would give me plenty of time to prepare.
“Excellent.” Evelyn glanced at her wristwatch and pulled a face. “Oh, lord. It’s already past nine. I’m late for a meeting.” She glanced at me, and added, “Don’t work too hard today.”
I nodded in agreement, though I was already thinking through everything I had to accomplish before going home that night. “I won’t,” I lied.
