She’d been assigned to bring him up to speed on the writers and the way of the bull pen. She spent her days introducing him to the Melbourne, Florida, staff as well as the writers scattered across the country and around the world via the wonder of the Internet.
In the evenings, after everyone left, she stayed to answer e-mails from stringers, edit articles, check on the bloggers, and make sure deadlines were being met.
She tried to show Mark their online assignment board so he could take some of the load, but he remained incampaignmode, schmoozing with Gigi and the staff, distracted, taking calls from his old job as well as his wife, his Realtor, and some dude designing a custom surfboard.
Yeah, Gigi, Mark’s just perfect for this job.
With a sigh, Corina slumped in her chair and stared at the Indian Harbor Beach lights reflecting in the river.
Tonight Gigi was throwing a “Welcome Mark” party for the entire staff at River Rock. On a Thursday too. Half the staff would call in tomorrow, claiming to be “working from home.” She should go, be a part of the team, but she couldn’t motivate herself to move away from her desk.
Adjusting her lamp, Corina pushed back a bit of the bull pen’s darkness and stared at her computer screen. Nine o’clock. Really, she should head home. Pull on her comfy clothes and watch aMary Tyler MooreDVD.
Or if she could stay awake, she’d sit in the peace of her condo and wait on God. If there was a silver lining to the last five and a half years, it was the discovery of truth. Despite her pain and grief, she found comfort in a God of love and peace, who was everything he claimed to be.
But the off-site staff needed attention, awaiting assignments and answers. They didn’t know or care about Mark tying one on at his welcome party.
Truth? She struggled with the idea of Mark being her boss. The guy who partied his way through his first stint at good oleBeaumont Post.
“Darling, are you still here?”
Corina glanced through the low light to see Gigi making her way down the aisle, her svelte figure wrapped in a pale blue designer dress. What was she doing here? Corina thought she’d left with the last of the bull pen.
“Aren’t you going to Mark’s party?”
“I’ve spent enough time with Mark this week.” Corina closed e-mail and turned off her computer as Gigi perched on the side of her desk, laughing softly. She’d made up her mind. Time to go home.
“Come now, be a team player.”
“I’m the epitome of a team player. Save this speech for Mark. It’s not too late to change your mind,” Corina said. “He’s only been here a week. You can send him packing.”
“I see. Is this how you’re going to play it? I thought more of you, darling.” Gigi took a tube of lipstick and a mirror from her orange Hermes Birkin and traced her lips with a dark red. Then she clicked off Corina’s desk lamp. “Work is done for the day. Let’s join the others, shall we?”
“Give them my love.” Corina took her handbag, a Prada she’d had for years and still loved, and walked with Gigi toward the door. “I’m heading home. My sweet condo is calling me.”
She’d never really lived on her own. Not even from the womb, which she shared with Carlos. After high school she went to college and roomed with her best friend, Daisy, all four years. She did a year in Melbourne with Gigi right after college. Lived with her friend Tammy. And Daisy came down at least once a month for girls’ weekends.
Then Carlos joined the Marines and was selected for a joint international task force in Brighton. She tagged along to be with him, did freelance work for Gigi, and studied creative writing at Knoxton University.
And that’s how she met him. Her prince on campus.
Corina sighed.
“What’s this?” Gigi, always paying attention. Always watching. Listening. “Such a sigh.”
“Nothing.” But it was something. Recalling Stephen reminded Corina of the vast emptiness in her heart.
Gigi pushed the elevator button. “Never you fear, we’re going to find you a hot, hot story. You know, I don’t have a solid stringer in London. Nor Cathedral City, come to think of it. They all left me to have babies. The nerve of some women.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that? Women wanting to have babies, raise a family?” The elevator door pinged open and Corina stepped in to the melody of Gigi’s chortling.
“What am I going to do with you, Corina Del Rey?”
“Love me, I guess.” She laughed and pressed her hand on Gigi’s arm. “I’m not sure I ever said it, but thank you. Your call with a job offer saved me.”
Gigi squeezed her hand as the doors slid closed, and they rode in silence down to the glass-and-tile lobby with the high, exposed, steel beam arches.
They waved good night to the night security guard, Jones Parker. “Night, Ms. Beaumont. You too, Miss Del Rey. Take care out there. They say a tropical storm is heading our way.”
