Looking Glass (reposted)
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
1,991
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
1,991
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Looking Glass
Looking Glass
A/N: Hi! I'm back, after a few lazy months in London. Since my stuff hasn't been transferred or whatever yet, I am reposting this one. I am also writing full-time now (for a while, anyway), so expect lots of updates!
She sat typing at the desk, her back ramrod-straight despite having been there for hours. Her neck burned, her hips ached, and her ankles would be very stiff and sore once she allowed herself to uncross them. It didn’t matter, and the pain wasn’t on her mind. She had work to do, forms to fill out. She couldn’t go home until everything was done, and there were so many forms—but she wouldn’t think of that now. One thing at a time, she advised herself sternly. Ah, the joys of being salaried.
A soft knock sounded on the door, interrupting her thoughts. She turned her head to face the intruder, not taking the opportunity to relax her posture.
“Yes, Jean?” she prompted her secretary. The young woman was frightened of her, she knew. She had overheard the recent college graduate whispering to a co-worker in the restroom one morning about the terrifyingly perfect Ms. Steel, who looked like her name fit her heart as well as her back. She had waited in her stall until the girls had left; it was not polite to let them know she had unwittingly overheard. After all, Jean did good work. She was diligent, and she was prompt, and she was efficient. Everything Ms. Steel valued in an employee. Childish bathroom gossip was not worth reprimanding the girl over. Ms. Steel had high hopes that Jean would outgrow the tendency.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Ms. Steel, but there is someone here to see you. He says you were expecting him? I don’t have anything about an appointment in my book, ma’am,” Jean fretted.
Ms. Steel nodded her approval. “I am expecting him, Jean. It is not in your date book because it is not a business meeting.”
“I will send him in then, right away.” Jean wondered intensely who this mysterious visitor could be, but knew that Ms. Steel did not tolerate personal questions even when she was not using that especially cold tone of voice. She wondered briefly if her employer was warm and friendly with anyone, but quickly felt as if the woman could sense even her intruding thoughts. “Would you like me to put on some coffee, Ms. Steel?”
The woman paused, then a deliberate “yes” slid from a straight mouth, which inhabited a face which revealed no emotion but cool, professional courtesy. Even her eyes were icy and reserved. Those orbs weren’t windows, but mirrors. Jean slipped out of the large office before she shivered.
Ms. Steel was aware that her visitor would arrive in her office shortly, but she refocused on the forms in front of her anyway. There was no excuse for wasted time. As she mechanically filled out the forms, she considered what he would have to say to her. It had been many years, and she did not see what he could think was so pressing. She held back a sigh. She hated it when people wasted her time.
The door was on her left. She felt it swing silently open, sensed him step softly onto the plush carpet of the office.
“Good evening, Noah,” she said without looking up. He stood silent in the doorway for a moment, until she neatened her papers into perfect pile and faced him.
“Hello, Deirdre. I hear you have been doing well.”
“Yes, I have had several successes recently,” she responded politely, if coolly. From there her voice got downright cold. “Do not waste my time, Noah. Say your piece and leave.”
“All right then, Deirdre. I’ll put it bluntly: he’s dying, and he wants to see you.”
Deirdre eyes widened slightly. She blinked her reaction away and dropped her hand from the desk to something Noah couldn’t see.
“Just tell me when,” she said calmly, her tone modulated. He wanted to scream at her. How could she be calm? His father, her tutor, was dying! The end!
His face betrayed nothing of the tempest of anger and bitterness that roared inside him. He said, simply, “Tomorrow, at three.” It was a bit of an untruth—his father had merely said sometime before the end of the week, but Noah knew that Deirdre would have a difficult time extricating herself from her all-important work in the middle of the afternoon. If she weren’t busy, she wouldn’t still be here at eight o’clock in the evening as she was now. It might have been petty and immature of him, but Noah didn’t really want to make any of this easy for her. God knew it wasn’t easy for him. Not then, and not now. “He’s at the Northland Community Hospital.” Deirdre nodded, typing the information into her computer.
“Do you remember how to get there?” He nearly sneered cruelly. Anything for a reaction. Jesus, she was like a robot sitting there, with her goddamn perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect suit. Still, he almost regretted the cutting remark.
“I will be sure to find my way,” she said evenly.
Noah gave up. No reaction. Fine, she was a cold, heartless bitch. Well, he had known that anyway. “Good. I’m leaving.”
“Good night, Noah.” She heard him pull open the door with force, startling the young woman with a tray of coffee in one hand and the other raised to knock. She gasped and struggled to not upset the tray while Noah swept past her toward the elevator.
“Umm,” Jean said, unsure if she should still deliver the coffee.
“Yes, come in, Jean. I could use a cup of that, thank you.” Jean brought the round tray and set it at the edge of her employer’s desk. It was arranged just as Deirdre liked it: coffee pot in the center, sugar at three o’clock, and creamer at nine o’clock. She quickly prepared herself a cup and allowed Jean to regather the tray.
“I believe that will be all, tonight, Jean. Thank you for staying late; I will finish soon.” Jean murmured a response and took her leave.
Deirdre gave herself a moment and closed her eyes. Apparently, some people didn’t change. Sometimes they didn’t forgive.
Her eyes popped open. She could allow the guilt to wash over her in waves and drown in an undertow of depression. Or she could go home. She and Josie needed to eat. Maybe take a walk in the cool evening air. Deirdre desperately needed to unwind after the episode with Noah.
She pushed her chair back and stood, letting her aching muscles relax slightly. She knew her tension upset Josie, so she tried to push it to the back of her mind. When she patted her thigh encouragingly, Josie came to her side from her place beneath the oversized desk. Deirdre slid her hand lovingly over the head of soft black hair and quickly drained the cold remnants of her coffee.
“All right, Josie,” she said, “let’s go home.” Josie stood patiently while Deirdre slipped on the harness. Hand resting lightly on the attached bar, she gave the seeing-eye dog the signal to heel, and they quietly left the office.
A/N: Hi! I'm back, after a few lazy months in London. Since my stuff hasn't been transferred or whatever yet, I am reposting this one. I am also writing full-time now (for a while, anyway), so expect lots of updates!
She sat typing at the desk, her back ramrod-straight despite having been there for hours. Her neck burned, her hips ached, and her ankles would be very stiff and sore once she allowed herself to uncross them. It didn’t matter, and the pain wasn’t on her mind. She had work to do, forms to fill out. She couldn’t go home until everything was done, and there were so many forms—but she wouldn’t think of that now. One thing at a time, she advised herself sternly. Ah, the joys of being salaried.
A soft knock sounded on the door, interrupting her thoughts. She turned her head to face the intruder, not taking the opportunity to relax her posture.
“Yes, Jean?” she prompted her secretary. The young woman was frightened of her, she knew. She had overheard the recent college graduate whispering to a co-worker in the restroom one morning about the terrifyingly perfect Ms. Steel, who looked like her name fit her heart as well as her back. She had waited in her stall until the girls had left; it was not polite to let them know she had unwittingly overheard. After all, Jean did good work. She was diligent, and she was prompt, and she was efficient. Everything Ms. Steel valued in an employee. Childish bathroom gossip was not worth reprimanding the girl over. Ms. Steel had high hopes that Jean would outgrow the tendency.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Ms. Steel, but there is someone here to see you. He says you were expecting him? I don’t have anything about an appointment in my book, ma’am,” Jean fretted.
Ms. Steel nodded her approval. “I am expecting him, Jean. It is not in your date book because it is not a business meeting.”
“I will send him in then, right away.” Jean wondered intensely who this mysterious visitor could be, but knew that Ms. Steel did not tolerate personal questions even when she was not using that especially cold tone of voice. She wondered briefly if her employer was warm and friendly with anyone, but quickly felt as if the woman could sense even her intruding thoughts. “Would you like me to put on some coffee, Ms. Steel?”
The woman paused, then a deliberate “yes” slid from a straight mouth, which inhabited a face which revealed no emotion but cool, professional courtesy. Even her eyes were icy and reserved. Those orbs weren’t windows, but mirrors. Jean slipped out of the large office before she shivered.
Ms. Steel was aware that her visitor would arrive in her office shortly, but she refocused on the forms in front of her anyway. There was no excuse for wasted time. As she mechanically filled out the forms, she considered what he would have to say to her. It had been many years, and she did not see what he could think was so pressing. She held back a sigh. She hated it when people wasted her time.
The door was on her left. She felt it swing silently open, sensed him step softly onto the plush carpet of the office.
“Good evening, Noah,” she said without looking up. He stood silent in the doorway for a moment, until she neatened her papers into perfect pile and faced him.
“Hello, Deirdre. I hear you have been doing well.”
“Yes, I have had several successes recently,” she responded politely, if coolly. From there her voice got downright cold. “Do not waste my time, Noah. Say your piece and leave.”
“All right then, Deirdre. I’ll put it bluntly: he’s dying, and he wants to see you.”
Deirdre eyes widened slightly. She blinked her reaction away and dropped her hand from the desk to something Noah couldn’t see.
“Just tell me when,” she said calmly, her tone modulated. He wanted to scream at her. How could she be calm? His father, her tutor, was dying! The end!
His face betrayed nothing of the tempest of anger and bitterness that roared inside him. He said, simply, “Tomorrow, at three.” It was a bit of an untruth—his father had merely said sometime before the end of the week, but Noah knew that Deirdre would have a difficult time extricating herself from her all-important work in the middle of the afternoon. If she weren’t busy, she wouldn’t still be here at eight o’clock in the evening as she was now. It might have been petty and immature of him, but Noah didn’t really want to make any of this easy for her. God knew it wasn’t easy for him. Not then, and not now. “He’s at the Northland Community Hospital.” Deirdre nodded, typing the information into her computer.
“Do you remember how to get there?” He nearly sneered cruelly. Anything for a reaction. Jesus, she was like a robot sitting there, with her goddamn perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect suit. Still, he almost regretted the cutting remark.
“I will be sure to find my way,” she said evenly.
Noah gave up. No reaction. Fine, she was a cold, heartless bitch. Well, he had known that anyway. “Good. I’m leaving.”
“Good night, Noah.” She heard him pull open the door with force, startling the young woman with a tray of coffee in one hand and the other raised to knock. She gasped and struggled to not upset the tray while Noah swept past her toward the elevator.
“Umm,” Jean said, unsure if she should still deliver the coffee.
“Yes, come in, Jean. I could use a cup of that, thank you.” Jean brought the round tray and set it at the edge of her employer’s desk. It was arranged just as Deirdre liked it: coffee pot in the center, sugar at three o’clock, and creamer at nine o’clock. She quickly prepared herself a cup and allowed Jean to regather the tray.
“I believe that will be all, tonight, Jean. Thank you for staying late; I will finish soon.” Jean murmured a response and took her leave.
Deirdre gave herself a moment and closed her eyes. Apparently, some people didn’t change. Sometimes they didn’t forgive.
Her eyes popped open. She could allow the guilt to wash over her in waves and drown in an undertow of depression. Or she could go home. She and Josie needed to eat. Maybe take a walk in the cool evening air. Deirdre desperately needed to unwind after the episode with Noah.
She pushed her chair back and stood, letting her aching muscles relax slightly. She knew her tension upset Josie, so she tried to push it to the back of her mind. When she patted her thigh encouragingly, Josie came to her side from her place beneath the oversized desk. Deirdre slid her hand lovingly over the head of soft black hair and quickly drained the cold remnants of her coffee.
“All right, Josie,” she said, “let’s go home.” Josie stood patiently while Deirdre slipped on the harness. Hand resting lightly on the attached bar, she gave the seeing-eye dog the signal to heel, and they quietly left the office.