Jiminy Cricket. Way to throw a girl under the bus. And after I had given him a sticker too.
“You! You are not authorized to plan meetings. Why didn’t McKenna stop you? Where is that useless—”
“She didn’t know; I did it behind her back,” I lied. “You were out, and I thought I’d be helpful.”
“This was a severe overstep.”
“The meeting actually went very well, and people were happy to have a snack. It wasn’t much—I didn’t want to make people sleepy, just pretzels and different schmears from this great bakery down the street. They have the cutest cat. Mr. Richmond didn’t have any complaints.”
Our boss was slowly backing away.
“Not going to defend me against an actual threat, huh?” I hissed at Mr. Richmond.
“This isn’t any of my business.” He looked mildly uncomfortable.
“This actually literally is your business.”
“I have to send some emails.”
“Fine, go back to your cage.”
Apparently I had been mistaken in thinking he had been begrudgingly mildly impressed with my efforts and hosting a meeting.
Here you were thinking he was attractive. Mr. Richmond is a spineless coward who only wants to be controlling when he thinks he can get away with it.
I never hated anyone more than I did Grayson Richmond at that moment.
“Why were you with him last evening?” Anthym demanded.
“I wasn’t. I was out shopping, just like you told me.”
“You were supposed to be finding me the bust Mr. Richmond wanted, not trying to steal my job.”
“I was just trying to help.”
“No one here wants your help,” she snapped. “You have some items on your to-do list. Get to it.”
“Already have the thank-you notes written and waiting for Mr. Richmond to sign. The bust is in a box by my desk.”
“You found it? Where is it?”
I handed Anthym the bag, glad to distract her from chewing me out about the meeting that I’d saved because, let’s be honest, who wants to sit through a two-hour-long presentation about emergency generators without a snack.
“And it’s authentic?” Anthym demanded.
“Of course!” I insisted. “I’ve been going to free lectures at the university and met this professor there who is writing a book on fairy tales throughout history. But she does art verification on the side, and she’s also a wonderful stained glass—”
“I don’t care.” Anthym picked up box.
“Certificate of authenticity is in the bag,” I said as Anthym stalked off.
I sat down next to McKenna who fanned herself.
“Oh my gosh, I thought I was about to get fired. I need a drink.”
“One of the garbage collectors I said hello to this morning gave me an unopened bottle of wine someone threw out. We’ll leave early and crack it open.”
“Bless you.”
