About Face by Carole Howard Read Free Book Online

dream-boss he’d been.
    Later today, she’d think about having glimpsed her retirement future—maybe David would change his mind—and her Peace Corps past in the space of a few hours. And she’d also figure out how she might use the success of the benefit to counter Jeremy’s over-the-shoulder look at Lipsticks & Scarves.
    Outside her window, the quickly-moving clouds against the gray-blue sky gave her the jump-start to confront today’s To-Do list, including the leftovers from yesterday. She dove headlong into the corporate busywork of phone calls to return, memos to write, butts to kick, asses to kiss. Activity aimed at closure was her drug of choice. She loved nothing better than to cross things off her list, and some days yearned for an emptied list even more than a hot lavender-scented bath.
    In her list-shortening orgy, she resolved three scheduling glitches. Two concerned product development, for which she preserved budget at the expense of schedule; one was about advertising, for which schedule got priority over budget. She composed the first draft of her weekly report, sticking to Jeremy’s new prescribed format almost completely, leaving the section on the bottom-line results of the benefit temporarily blank. Then she rewarded herself by replying to some of the “Bravo on the benefit” emails, including a delicious one from Josh that she read about ten times.
    â€œI know it’s the mom who’s supposed to be proud of the kid, but I just can’t help it, ya know? If you don’t want me to be proud of you, stop doing great stuff.”
    She left about fifteen more congratulatory messages in her e-inbox for later, when she’d have time and need a pat-on-the-back pick-me-up. It would probably be mid-afternoon, and it would be even better than caffeine.
    While she was on the phone with one of the colleagues whose product development schedule was about to be tinkered with, Tom knocked on her open door. She waved him in and finished her call.
    Tom looked younger than twenty-eight, with sandy-brown hair that fell straight down with the slightest movement of his head, leading him to reflexively finger-comb it back. His deep brown eyes were ringed by lush eyelashes (“They’re wasted on a guy,” was the take in the women’s room) which drew attention from a large-nostrilled nose, too-skinny lips and crooked teeth.
    Ruth liked Tom’s idealism, his sincerity and eagerness to learn. “Hi Tom. What’s up?”
    â€œWow, I love those pictures of when you were in the Peace Corps, out in the middle of nowhere.”
    â€œProof that I was once young.”
    â€œI didn’t mean….”
    â€œOf course not. I know. Have a seat.”
    He asked Ruth how the benefit went, and she spent too much time telling him how successful it was. “Even Jeremy came.”
    â€œBut that’s good, you know, after yesterday’s meeting and all.”
    â€œThe meeting wasn’t so bad. Not like when you were a teacher, I know. But you’ll get used to it.”
    She asked if he’d finished his application to graduate school, knowing he hadn’t or would already have mentioned it.
    He’d been too busy.
    That’s what he said last time, she thought. She reminded him how valuable it would be to have the company pay his tuition. And that she’d write him a great recommendation. She jotted a note to herself in blue, to check once more, maybe in a month. But that would be the last time.
    â€œSo…?”
    Tom was having trouble with the figures she’d wanted on the lavender bath oil and he didn’t think he’d be able to get them to her by the afternoon. He showed her what he meant, then asked if Monday would be all right.
    â€œSorry, Monday’s not okay. I need them for the report I’m doing for Jeremy over the weekend. Just do the best you can, but get me something.”
    â€œUm, okay. I’ll