Page 23 of The Emma Special

Emma tiptoed to her lobby desk as quickly as she could wearing one shoe before James woke up, err, ended his phone call.

She was halfway through sorting the mail when the intercom beeped on her desk phone.

“Miss Glass?” James asked in a sugar-sweet voice. “Do you have a moment?”

She bit her lips and continued with the mail. Her phone rang, but the light next to 403 was lit. She cleared her throat and picked up the phone, “Anderson and Associates, how may I direct your call?”

“Why is your shoe on my desk?”

“Hold, please.” She placed him on hold then put the receiver down with no intention of answering.

Within seconds his voice came through the intercom again.

“Emma. Why is this tiny metal hair contraption in my coffee cup? And my stapler—” James cut off with laughing. “Did I take all of this from you? I’ve got a pile of random stuff on my desk.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Moore, but if you have nothing else, I’ll be getting back to work.”

“Emma! Get in here and put this stuff away.”

“I’m very busy, Mr. Moore. Some of us have work to do. I’m sure you understand.” She released the intercom button to his office before she could get caught in more fun. She did actually have work to do.

Next on the list was— Oh, that again. Mr. Anderson and his letters. She forgot all about her shoe in the next half-hour of actual work.

When she was almost finished, a pop-up filled the screen. She exited, and it came back. Click, click, click!

You must restart your computer before changes can be saved.

Emma gaped at the message. “Are you kidding me? I need to save it before I restart the computer!”

She pressed the left clicky button on the mouse with all the force her small finger could muster. “Fine. Have it your way, but you’re getting a tongue lashing when Mr. Anderson comes bellowing about his letter.”

Sitting back in her chair so hard it rolled a few inches from the desk, Emma crossed her arms over her chest. What she really needed was a big fluffy bed. She’d throw herself onto it and have a cry like any good princess. Between Mr. Anderson’s barking and Miss Joy’s threats to fire her if she didn’t start saving documents with the date at the end, her day was going about as smoothly as a duck trying to fly backwards. Which ducks, of course, couldn’t do.

Speaking of Miss Joy, the only other female in the office walked through the door wearing her usual scowl.

“Good afternoon! How was your meeting?” Emma asked.

Miss Joy. The fresh-out-of-college, heartless woman with something to prove, glanced at Emma before walking straight past her.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking!” Emma waved at the retreating back of a suit that cost more than a full month of her salary. Poor Miss Joy was misnamed. Miss Despair would have fit the bill. How could anyone who loved evoking tears have a name like joy?

The front door opened again, and a polished woman waltzed in like Miss Alabama herself. Paired with her blush linen pant suit was a megawatt smile, and Emma wouldn’t be surprised to find a tiara nestled in that pile of perfect hair. She tugged a peppy brunette behind her.

The tagalong, who couldn’t be older than twenty, was squeezed into an orange sundress with a front scooped low enough that she jiggled with each step. The girls were on full display as she clipped through the door.

“Hellooo,” the older woman sang as she stepped into the office and approached the desk. “You must be Emma!”

The thunder of running footsteps down the hallway preceded James before he burst into the lobby.

If James was running, were they all in danger? Emma gripped the arms of the chair, ready to sprint toward the back door if necessary. Her knee would hate it, but Emma wasn’t a quitter.

James skidded into the lobby then brushed a hand over his hair, smoothing the top that had broken free of its proper style in his mad dash.

“Mom.” He swallowed and edged toward Emma before discreetly dropping her shoe behind the desk. “I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.”

Oh. Ohhh. This was James’s mom.

His mother! James had a mom, as men do, and why did this surprise Emma? Just because a lunch date with Emma and her mom was a bizarre occurrence was no reason to discredit his happy family. Looky there. Mother and son staring at each other with head nods and pointed facial expressions.