“Where are my manners?” Brett says. “Opal, this is Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, old friends of my parents.”
“Less of the old,” Mr. Simmons says, shaking my hand.
“Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, this is Opal Collins. She’s my father’s personal assistant and she’s helping me settle into the company.”
“Oh, you’re Opal,” Mrs. Simmons says, nodding to me. “Robert speaks very highly of you.”
Smiling, I am flattered that Mr. Connell has said nice things about me. I am a little disappointed that the introductions seem to have brought the original conversation to a halt though. I was learning more about Brett.
“What’s it like working for Robert then?” Mr. Simmons winks at me. “Tell me everything. All of the things I can use against him, especially.”
I start to tell him about my job and what it’s like to work for the company. Naturally, I don’t tell him anything bad, although in fairness, I really enjoy my job, and it would be hard for me to think of anything particularly bad to say about working for Mr. Connell or the company.
Brett is talking animatedly to Mrs. Simmons and I try to listen, but Mr. Simmons won’t give me a chance to pause to see what I can hear. He fires question after question at me, and in the end, I give up trying to hear anything interesting about Brett’s life. I do notice though that when a waiter comes by, myself and the Simmons’ switch our empty glasses for fresh ones, that Brett takes one too. Good. Maybe he will loosen up a little after all.
5
After what feels like forever, the Simmons’ excuse themselves and move on to talk to another couple that stand nearby.
“I’m sorry about that,” Brett says.
I frown. “Sorry about what?”
“Mr. Simmons. He’s harmless enough, but he’s a little full on isn’t he?”
“He sure likes to ask a lot of questions,” I say, going for the answer I hope is tactful.
“He’s always been the same,” Brett says.
Before I can say anything else, we are approached again. This time, it’s by one of Mr. Connell’s potential leads. I nudge Brett, hoping he’ll remember who the man is.
Brett doesn’t disappoint and he launches into a speech about the company and what they can do for the man. I throw in a supporting point here and there, and by the end of the conversation, Brett has a meeting organized with him.
Over the course of the next hour, that pattern repeats itself time and time again. Brett and I find ourselves momentarily alone and we just start to speak to each other when we are interrupted again. Each time, it’s like we’re starting over and we never get a chance to move past the small talk and talk about anything outside of work stuff. The more times we get interrupted, the more I can feel myself getting annoyed at everyone who approaches us. I want to scream at them to go away and leave us alone for ten minutes.
The wine is flowing and people are starting to relax more, so the constant stream of people wanting to talk to Brett and me is only getting longer and more annoying. I’m debating excusing myself to go to the bathroom to try to get a handle on how frustrated the constant interruptions are making me, when I hear a clinking sound.
I look in the direction of the door we entered through where the sound is coming from.
William and Tanya stand in the doorway.
William is tapping something against a glass. He waits until he has the attention of the room. “Ladies and gentleman, dinner is about to be served. Please follow us to the dining room.” He turns and moves away.
Then as one, the guests begin to follow him. He leads us across the entrance way and through a door on the opposite side of the mansion. The dining room is huge, and a long table in the center of the room is set for dinner.
People make their way towards the table and I follow Brett as he moves towards one of the ends. A woman in a white dress with a long string of pearls around her neck moves in on Brett’s other side.
It becomes instantly clear to me that she’s moved in on purpose, planning to sit beside him for the dinner, and maybe try to get her claws into him.
I feel a surge of jealousy, but it fades slightly when Brett catches my eye and eye rolls in the woman’s direction and then pulls a face. I grin at him and he laughs softly. We reach the table and Brett pulls out a chair for me. I thank him and he nods then takes the seat beside me.
Pearl woman pounces on the seat on the other side of Brett and promptly engages him in conversation.
I can’t hear what she’s saying. I think she’s purposely keeping her voice low, trying to freeze me out of the conversation, and much to my dismay, it seems to be working. Brett nods along with her, smiling politely and occasionally answering her questions. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in what she’s saying, but he doesn’t seem to be attempting to shut her up, so he can turn back and talk to me either.
I sit awkwardly, not sure where to look as Brett ignores me on one side of me, and the man at my other side talks to the woman beside him, presumably his wife. I pick up my glass and drink some wine, more for something to focus on than anything else.
After a few painful minutes, the doors from the kitchen open as a team of waiters and waitresses stream in, each carrying two plates. They position themselves around the table, and then as one, they place a plate before each guest.
Staring down at the plate, I’m overjoyed to see the starter is a prawn cocktail, one of my favorites. As I reach for my fork, my arm brushes against Brett’s and I
