His watch echoed in the quiet office. Tick, tick, tick. Pressing the orange button on the old phone he reached his admin.
“Grace?”
“Yes, Mr. Fordham?”
“Is security set?”
THE MESSENGER BAG SLAPPED against Claire’s hip as she walked into corporate headquarters. She could hold it, but she needed a free hand for opening the heavy glass doors of the office building. Her left hand gripped the portfolio. She’d been waiting for and dreading this meeting, excited to show off this year’s design after months of hard work, but nervous about going alone.
In two weeks, she’d have temporary quarters here so all the details would finalize in situ. With only six weeks until opening day, a lot of work remained. Recreating James’ brown-bronze-gold eyes on three figures took all morning, but it was a vital task of community building. Her dreamy goo-goo-eyes had nothing to do with it.
Adena’s large marble interior, currently devoid of all decoration, brought a smile to her face as shoes clicked across the floor to the security desk. Her mind’s eye saw shiny ornaments dangling from the ceiling and velvet ropes creating a path leading to the centerpiece, her tribute to Grandpa Clem. The audience wouldn’t notice that part per se. She wanted them to be too enthralled to notice anything but their own happiness. Last night’s magic revitalized her spirit. Soon she’d share the joy. There was no better feeling.
“Good Morning, Ryan!”
A dark blue rent-a-cop uniform replaced the high school football uniform he had worn when she was a sophomore and he was a senior. His eyes shifted nervously as he wiggled his index finger to invite her. The gesture put her on edge. They were acquaintances on a first name basis, but they never shared a close bond.
“You’d know. Are the rumors true? Are they cancelling the trains?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” Walter’s words echoed in her mind. The secretary to whom she’d spoken failed to remind her to bring her portfolio, but she might be new. Heck, Claire was new to this formalized meeting. The Adena contract was another business task Grandpa handled so she could focus on the creative side.
“I hope so. The wife’s counting on the overtime pay to cover Christmas this year. The kids want one of them handheld video games that also work on the TV.”
“Kallie used to work at Ace, right? I might need help at the store on weekends. She could bring the kids.” She bit her lip. That store occupied way far more mental real estate than she could afford. “The call for OT hours should go out soon. I’m getting the keys today.” Her brows furrowed. She thought Grandpa got a schedule for set up day when he got the keys. Her rib cage contracted, squeezing her lungs. “I hope the kids get what they want.”
“Me too. Should I page Walter for you?”
“No. I’m here to see a Mr. Fordham.”
Ryan grimaced at the name.
“Uh, oh. That bad?”
“Last Thursday, seven people required a security escort as they cleaned out their desks. Yesterday it was only one, but it was a doozy. I don’t know what went down, but Mike Mitchell was swearing a blue streak.”
Her eyes widened as she shook her head. Back in high school, she interned with Mike at his part time photography business. He yelled once when she made a big mistake, ruining a sheet of negatives, but she’d never heard him swear. Ryan must have recognized her distress; his face softened.
“Do you want someone to go in there with you? I—I—I could get Walter or one of Clem’s other friends. I’d go myself, but I’m not really supposed to leave my post unsupervised and the other full-timer won’t be in for another hour.” He seemed unnerved, his words spilling out fast compared to his usual languid demeanor.
The old men were her friends too, but CJ’s fell to her, not anyone else. She rolled her shoulders down and back as she stretched her spine long. She couldn’t risk absorbing Ryan’s energy “No. I emailed Walter about the meeting and asked him to be there, but it’s my business now, so I’ve got to do this myself, whatever the outcome. So where is this office?”
Ryan set a laminated map on the counter and tapped a finger on one square. “Up the stairs, and down the hall. His admin sits right outside the door. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know about the overtime as soon as I know.”
With every step her anger grew. So much for tapping into a steely resolve. She barely acknowledged the individuals saying hello. She muttered cursory responses, but her mind ran through a litany of questions. Who is this guy to destroy Christmas and her grandfather’s legacy? Why so many empty desks? Who doesn’t love trains? Her pace picked up, as did her breathing.
The closed door stood right where Ryan indicated it would. A woman in an orange suit jacket sat at a desk perpendicular to the door. She didn’t recognize her. This Fordham guy was firing her friends and townsfolk and bringing in outsiders. He was destroying the town’s economy and it seemed all but certain that he would take away their holiday joy.
The secretary held a phone receiver to her ear. She slowed down, flashing the logo side of her portfolio toward the woman. “I’ve got an appointment.”
She glanced at her watch. Right on time. She shoved open the wooden door.
“James?”
Chapter 10
“Claire?!” He walked around the desk, eager to take her in his arms. This was better than waiting until later. The last few hours had been miserable. As soon as he got through this contract problem, he’d take her to lunch. “How did you—”
Grace popped her head into the door, with uncharacteristically bad timing. “Sorry Mr. Fordham. She rushed past me. Your eleven thirty is here.”
“Could you ask this
