Glass Ceilings Page 20

  The air was cool as she stepped out of her apartment, and a vigorous sea breeze was blowing. The soothing sound of waves tumbling onto the shore drew her towards the beach. She found herself heading, out of habit, towards a small park close to the water. She could feel the tension of the past weeks shifting as she walked, breathing in the cleansing salt air. When a sudden strong gust blew straight off the ocean, making her adjust her step and grab her cap to stop it flying off, she gave a wide grin.

  C’mon, give it your best shot! You can huff and you can puff but you won’t blow me down!

  Laughing, she flung her arms wide to make herself a bigger target for the blustery breeze. Leaning into its salty force, she threw back her head and relished the challenge, thinking, it takes more than that to keep a good girl down, and more than any challenges my ‘colleagues’–including Royce James–can throw at me. But her treacherous heart did a somersault at the thought of him, and she dropped her arms to her side again.

  Damn it, why am I letting him make me feel so ... out of sorts?

  Hearing a cry overhead, Verity raised her eyes and spotted a sea eagle, high above her, winging its way towards the ocean. She stopped to watch the graceful bird ride the air currents, and then carried on towards the park. Drawing near, she heard a murmur of voices on the breeze, and it occurred to her there might be something happening in the park that evening. It was a popular meeting spot for local clubs and families. When she got there, she saw a group of about twenty people, all with dogs on leads, milling around. As she watched, some members of the group formed themselves into a line.

  Oh rats, she thought to herself, it’s the dog obedience club. Rosie told me they hold meetings here. There goes my peaceful stroll along the beach front.

  But it felt good being outside in the fresh air, under the waving palm trees, so Verity decided to sit and watch for a while, thinking that the antics of both dogs and handlers could be entertaining. She moved to where she could see the group more clearly, illuminated as they were under temporary lights set up around the park, making it into an arena of sorts.

  She took a seat on a comfortably round rock just outside the reach of the lights. The participants faced away from her, towards a man—the trainer, she assumed—who stood in the centre of the arena. Verity felt herself relaxing, enjoying being an unobtrusive spectator on a comfortably homely scene.

  The class members went through their paces with varying degrees of success. Some handlers confused their dogs by giving them the wrong signals, while some dogs confused their handlers by ignoring commands completely. By the bad behaviour of some of the canine students, Verity guessed this was a new class. She smiled and stretched to get more comfortable.

  The trainer called to someone standing at the side, and a tall, athletic-looking man, dressed smartly in a pair of cream moleskin pants and a striped rugby shirt, stepped up with his dog. The golden labrador’s grey muzzle and stiff movements revealed its age, but there was no doubting its obvious pleasure at being by its master’s side, ready to do his bidding. The dog’s tail was a fan in continual motion as it gazed devotedly at its handler.

  ‘Dear old pooch,’ Verity murmured to herself.

  The trainer addressed the new group briefly before walking off to the side, leaving the handler and his dog in the spotlight.

  You’re on centre stage now, Verity thought with a shiver of anticipation. She saw the handler lean down and stroke the top of his co-performer’s head, before straightening to begin a display that was obviously for the newbies’ benefit. As she watched, the man walked with the dog at heel for the length of the lit area, before turning sharply to retrace his steps. All the time, the old dog stayed as close to its master’s left leg as was physically possible. It was as though a firm bond tied them together.

  The handler came to an abrupt stop and so did the dog, who dutifully, if a little stiffly, sat on the ground at its master’s feet. Verity smiled when she saw a strong hand briefly touch the dog’s upturned head again, and then the man issued the command to heel, and once more they were walking. This time, when he stopped, the man gave a hand command to the dog and it dropped a little gingerly to the ground. The man walked away without looking at the dog, whose eyes followed its master’s every step.

  The handler stopped at the edge of the illuminated area and turned. Verity could sense this was a real test. The dog’s natural instinct would be to run to its master, but it remained obediently on the ground, awaiting the next command. The man walked towards it but continued on, right past the dog. It didn’t move, but followed its master with its ears. Finally, the handler came to the dog’s side and gave the command to ‘heel’. The old dog instantly obeyed, but not without a few wobbles as it raised its stiffening body to its feet.

  Compassion welled inside Verity. Despite its advancing age, the dog wanted only to please its master. The handler bent, speaking low words of encouragement and praise to his old friend, giving the dog time to regain its feet properly. Then the man gave a command and he and the dog both bowed at the audience.

  He’s so gentle with the old pooch, Verity thought to herself, and so proud of him. He doesn’t seem to care that they’re on show.

  She couldn’t help admiring the great partnership between the man and his dog, and she joined everyone else in applauding the performance. She watched them walk out of the spotlight towards another, smaller group, gathered nearer to where she sat. The handler went down on his knees to hug his dog, and Verity caught her first glimpse of his face.

  With a shocked gasp, she sat bolt upright. The tall man’s profile was familiar, all too familiar.

  The dog handler was Royce!

  Verity gave a disbelieving shake of her head, and thought, will that man ever stop turning up unexpectedly, and surprising me by being human?

  She dropped her chin onto her chest for a moment, and sighed.

  No, that’s not fair. He didn’t ask me to be here. She gave another sigh.

  Not the man we think he is … yes, quite.

  On impulse, Verity rose to her feet but quickly crouched again, on the realisation Royce might notice her from where he stood.

  That’d be great, having him catch me sitting here, watching him. What would he make of that?

  Groaning inwardly, she settled in to wait until it was safe to leave. Finally, the group disbanded and people headed towards their cars.

  ‘At last,’ she whispered to herself, ‘here’s my chance.’ But as she got to her feet, Verity’s cap fell off and tumbled into the illuminated area. Cursing softly under her breath, she hastily retrieved it. Impatiently stuffing her hair under the cap and jamming it back on her head, she didn’t see Royce turn in her direction.

  Verity hurried away without looking back, while Royce and his dog stood silently watching as she disappeared out of the light’s reach.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Hello Claire.’

  ‘Hello Royce.’

  They eyed each other, he from his impressive height, and she from the chair behind the executive secretary’s desk.

  Claire was up to her eyeballs in work, getting a handle on the new role and still trying to finalise some of her previous PR duties, so she was less than thrilled to see Royce walk through the door. It was late afternoon and she’d been looking forward to a couple of quiet hours to finalise some tasks.

  She made herself stop agonising about the interruption for a second, and studied Royce’s face. She knew things had changed between him and Verity, but Verity had been a little vague about what had actually transpired, and Royce had kept a low profile following their return from the island. When he didn’t speak straight away, Claire became flustered and tried to fill the void with small talk.

  ‘So, sounds like it was an exciting time on the island?’

  ‘That seems to be the general consensus.’ He fixed her with a level gaze.

  Her mouth ran away with her again. ‘And some changes here while you guys were away, with Reardon gone, and
Kerry ... obviously,’ and she gave a self-conscious chuckle, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting—’

  ‘Look,’ Royce said, his voice gravelly, ‘I didn’t come here to gossip. I came to ask if you could arrange a meeting for me, with Verity.’

  Claire frowned, ‘I’m not gossiping, just ...,’ and then she remembered who she was speaking to. ‘I mean, of course Mr Chairman of the Board of Directors.’ She tapped on her keyboard, opening Verity’s electronic calendar.

  ‘I’m not chairman yet.’

  ‘OK then, Royce, which day are we talking about?’

  ‘Tomorrow, in the afternoon. Is that a possibility?’

  ‘Hmm, tomorrow ... let’s see. Well, aren’t you the lucky one. She doesn’t have any appointments from two-thirty onwards. How long will you need?’

  ‘Can you block out the rest of the afternoon?’

  Claire looked at him quizzically. ‘You must have a lot to talk about?’

  He merely raised a noncommittal eyebrow, so Claire went on with a small sigh, ‘Right then. What do you want noted as the subject of the meeting?’

  He replied crisply, ‘I have a proposal to discuss.’

  Claire typed the entry into the calendar. ‘OK, meeting with “Royce re proposal” all booked in for two-thirty ’til five pm tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Royce turned to leave, but paused and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Look, I’d appreciate it if we’re not disturbed tomorrow.’

  ‘Gotcha. I’ll be here, on gate-keeping duty. Oh, and don’t be surprised if she hits you with a bill when she sees you.’

  ‘What?’ He frowned at her.

  ‘You owe her for a trip to the vet.’ His frown deepened, and she grinned. ‘Y’see, Jack, her beloved cat, was off his food, so she took him in for a check-up. Turns out he’s perfectly healthy, but someone,’ and she threw Royce a significant look, ‘has been filling him up on fresh fish.’

  ‘Oh ... right ... so she knows about that?’

  ‘Sure does.’ Claire gave a quiet titter at his bemused face.

  With a half-smile playing around his mouth, Royce said, ‘Well, thanks for the heads-up,’ before nodding at her and striding away.

  ‘Verity, this fax just came in. Thought you’d wanna see it straight away.’ Claire studied her boss’s face as she handed her the fax. Verity had been unusually pensive and distant since her return from the island, and the forthcoming meeting with Royce only seemed to make her more so.

  ‘Thanks, Claire.’ Verity took the fax and ran her eyes over it quickly. ‘I’m glad you gave this to me straight away, I was waiting on these figures.’

  ‘I thought you might’ve been. Say, I’m about to go get a coffee, do you fancy one?’

  Verity looked up at her new PA, and it was as if she was seeing her for the first time. She sat back with a tired smile. ‘Of course I do, this is me you’re talking to.’

  Claire grinned. ‘Right-ho, I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

  When she returned, bearing two flat whites and a double choc muffin, Claire sat at the meeting table in the centre of the office, and Verity joined her.

  Claire took a generous slurp from her cup. ‘Have you seen the funny notice on the lunch room wall?’

  Verity gave a preoccupied shake of her head.

  ‘You now how Paul Painter from the drafting office breeds Pointer puppies? Well, he pinned up a “puppies for sale” poster on the notice board, and now some wag has changed it to read, “For Sale, Painter Puppies, see Paul Pointer”,’ and Claire dissolved into giggles.

  Verity gave a half-hearted chuckle.

  Claire spluttered, ‘I can picture those little puppies holding brushes in their paws, and Paul pointing at what they’re to paint. Hilarious!’ and she burst out laughing again. But when Verity remained silent, Claire sobered to say, ‘Well, I thought it was funny, but maybe you had to be there.’ She had another drink, looking assessingly at her friend over the top of her mug, before trying another tack.

  ‘Hey, I heard on the grapevine that Jim and Kerry are divorcing.’

  ‘Mm hm.’ Verity took a bite from her half of the muffin.

  ‘Apparently Jim put his foot down about her playing up, but I’m struggling to picture him winning that confrontation. He’s such an easy-going bloke, without a mean bone in his—dare I say it?—not unattractive, body.’

  This met with another grunt from Verity, who was gazing at the fax in her hand.

  Claire’s brows drew together and she went on, ‘If you ask me, he’s way too good for her.’ She blew on her hot coffee. ‘And maybe Kerry realised it too, ’cos the story goes, when Jim asked if she was prepared to work at their marriage, more fool her, she told him all she really wants is a divorce.’

  This time Verity glanced up and said crossly, ‘Claire, you should know it doesn’t pay to gossip, and I don’t need another PA with loose lips.’

  Claire gasped and put down her coffee with a thump, thinking agitatedly, again with the gossip tag! She stared at her boss for a few seconds and said tartly, ‘Permission to speak frankly?’

  Verity sat back with a sigh. ‘Claire—’

  ‘I want a chance to set the record straight.’

  Verity nodded miserably.

  ‘First of all, I wasn’t gossiping. I was talking to you, and nobody else, about a situation with a staff member. Which, by the way, is common knowledge around the halls. I even heard someone talking about it just now, down at the vending machine! And I thought you said when I took this job, that you wanted me to help you stay informed and in touch with the workforce.’

  Verity squeezed her eyes shut for a second and gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. ‘Sorry, I—’

  ‘And you should know better than anyone, that I don’t have loose lips.’

  Verity sat forward and put her head in her hands, saying resignedly, ‘Yes, of course. You didn’t deserve that. I don’t know what’s got into me, I’ve been snapping at everyone lately.’

  ‘I think you need to talk about what’s bothering you.’

  When Verity raised her head, Claire took in her pained expression and said quietly, ‘It’s Royce, isn’t it?’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Claire could almost hear the barrier—the one Verity raised around her emotions whenever they were threatened—drop into place with a thud, and she saw the familiar look of guarded reserve settle on her face.

  Claire reached over to take her hand, saying, ‘Verity, it’s me. You need to talk to someone, and you can trust me.’

  Verity ran a hand over her face. ‘I know, Claire. I’m just afraid....’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Of putting into words something I’ve been trying to ignore.’ Verity sighed. ‘It’s as though simply talking about it would give it life, and the ability to inflict injury.’

  Claire thought for a moment before saying softly, ‘Well then, tell me this. How do you feel about Royce?’

  Verity fixed her with a troubled gaze, and then rose, and walked over to the window. She stood there for a while before saying contemplatively, ‘There’s a question I’ve been avoiding, Claire. It has two parts to it, and what you’ve asked is the second part. The first was answered on the island.’

  ‘Care to share?’

  Verity took a deep breath. ‘Part one was, what does Royce feel for me, and I got my answer—at least, I think I did—the last night we were there.’ She turned towards Claire, who was surprised to see something akin to joyous wonder in her friend’s eyes. In a voice barely more than a whisper, Verity said, ‘He kissed me, Claire, and I mean really kissed me.’

  Claire’s eyes widened and she breathed, ‘Wow!’ before continuing with scarcely restrained anticipation, ‘So, what’s the answer to the second part?’ When silence greeted her, Claire persisted, ‘What do you feel for him?’

  A haze of uncertainty clouded Verity’s eyes again, and she turned to stare out the window, taking a long time to answer quietly, ‘That’s the part I’m most afraid of.’


  ‘So, it’s not an easy answer like, “nothing”, or “can’t stand the rotten buggar”?’

  Verity shook her head and gave a grim laugh. ‘We wouldn’t be talking about this if that were the case.’ After a while she added wistfully, ‘So much has changed since I first moved into this office, and in a very short time. It’s no wonder my head’s spinning.’

  She moved away from the window and sat beside Claire again. ‘Some changes have been good,’ and she smiled warmly at her new PA for a brief moment, ‘and others not so good. And some have put me in an uncontrollable, flat spin, and they’re the scariest ones.’

  She drained her coffee mug before continuing, ‘Take Royce, for example. I thought I had his measure—a typical, hard-nosed, ruthlessly ambitious executive, with his eyes resolutely focused upwards as he squashes everyone else beneath his boots. But then I glimpsed a very different picture. I saw a kind angler who shares his catch with a fish-mad feline without asking anything in return, and a gentle dog owner who spends quality time with his old pet, showing him off proudly without a care for what others think, and a man who’s been using his career as a crutch against loss and regret. And it became clear that the man I thought I knew, wasn’t the real man at all. But what I do know ...,’ and Verity’s voice broke, ‘is that for some reason, he’s never far from my mind now.’

  Claire didn’t move or speak. She didn’t want to break the spell that had her friend talking so openly.

  Verity breathed in deeply and lifted her chin. ‘But despite what took place on the island, Royce hasn’t spoken to me since we got back. And tomorrow’s meeting will be all about his next project. He’s obviously put behind him what happened between us.’ She turned agitated eyes onto Claire. ‘And that’s exactly what I wanted him to do, so that we’re just two professional associates again—’ the breath caught in Verity’s throat. She shut her mouth tightly and blinked, desperately determined to stay in control.