Chapter 211: The Stafford Foundation
Friday, January 20th, Late Morning
About a week away from heading south to Tree Hill, Fallon decided to check in on the foundation. So, she dressed in what they, mainly Tanner, thought she would wear, and packed her heels, the foundation heels, into a bag. After doing her makeup, Fallon ordered an UBER, after which she took a seat on her sofa in her living room on the parlor floor.
Once the UBER got there, she rode uptown. Looking out the window, she studied the city. Almost all of her life, she lived here, in New York City, Manhattan mostly, and saw most of the good and evil. Nodding, she leaned back and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. Fallon appreciated the quiet as Fallon mentally prepared for walking into the foundation.
Eventually, Fallon's ride came to an end. After paying for the ride with the app, giving the driver a nice cash tip, she walked towards the foundation is located. With a pause, she looked down one of the streets to see Rockefeller Center. She loved it when her dad would bring her here to ice skate during the winter, and look at the big tree. A few times, he even got her here early enough to watch the tree lighting ceremony. She wanted to bring that joy to others but would only get to share it with her nephew, Wyatt, so far.
Shaking her head, she entered the building and took the elevator to the floor; the foundation occupied the twelfth floor. Getting out of the elevator, she found the door with a sign that said The Stafford Foundation on it. Fallon nodded and opened the door. Walking into the lobby, suddenly, Fallon could feel the eyes of her predecessors bare down on her. Fallon shook it off and looked at the receptionist.
"Morning, Ms. Stafford, we weren't expecting you," Amber, the receptionist, said.
"Morning Amber, I'd figure since I was in the area, well, you know, I'd stop by," Fallon said.
"We always enjoy your visits," Amber said.
"That's always good to hear," Fallon said, with a fake smile, as the door buzzed, letting Fallon into the office.
"You can go in, Ms. Stafford," Amber said.
"Thank you," Fallon said.
"You're welcome," Amber said.
Fallon walked through the small office towards her seldom-used office. The staff would pick up their heads and noticed Fallon walked through the office. There were the usual whispering and chit-chat, Fallon could hear clearly. There was never a chance for her to come into the foundation without being noticed. The gossip has gotten better over time; in her freshman year of college, it was a scandal that a nineteen-year-old would be the patron, never mind have an active hand in the day-to-day of the foundation. Still, Fallon felt would sigh and feel the judgment from the staff, many who were hired by her grandfather.
Fallon entered her office and dropped her bags on her desk. As she walked across the office, she slipped her jacket off and hung it up on the coat rack. Finally, Fallon took a seat behind her desk and reached for the bag with her shoes in it.
Before she could take her heels out, there was a knock on her office door jam. Fallon was expecting the knock on the door, just not this soon. Fallon looked up and saw the old man at the door. Fortunately, she had yet to remove her sunglasses, which hid her eye roll. Her stomach also turned, but that was because there wasn't much love lost between Tanner Rich and herself.
"Fallon, this is a pleasant surprise," Tanner said.
It wasn't, Fallon reflected, "It's a surprise, I was in the area, and I thought I'd drop in," she said.
"What brings you to this part of the city so early?" Tanner asked.
Fallon held up her heels; they were the pair she bought to wear at the foundations. She didn't like high heels, preferring at the most a mid-heel. High-heels were expected for her since she's tiny, but Fallon preferred flats, and if not flats, sneakers or boots, typically Doc Martens.
"I just got these shoes, aren't they cute?" Fallon asked, knowing these weren't new shoes, and that Tanner didn't care nor knew the difference.
"Yes, they are," Tanner said, dryly, "Is that the only reason you stopped by?"
Fallon nodded, "Why, yes, Tanner, there is another reason," she said.
"That would be?" Tanner asked.
"I'm heading to North Carolina next week, so I figured I'd just check-in so that the troops could see me," Fallon said, "You know to rally them to the cause, or causes. I was a cheerleader; I could do that," Fallon said.
Tanner nodded, "Right, well, there's not much going on here. I'll have someone brings what's happening over so you could read it," he said.
"Great!" Fallon said, faking her enthusiasm, "Also, where are we going for lunch?"
"I'll find out and have the menu brought over, as well," Tanner said.
"Thanks, Tanner," Fallon said and gave him a fake smile.
"You're welcome," Tanner said and left her office doorway. Fallon sighed and went back to changing into her heels.
This silence gave Fallon a minute to sigh and hold down her breakfast. She took her sneakers off and put them aside. Taking up her heels, she looked them over and shrugged. Slowly, because she didn't want to wear them, and was putting it off, she pulled on her right high heel and strapped it on. Fallon sighed again and did the same with her left foot. Once finished, Fallon stood up and worked out her balance on the heels.
Fallon turned to the door and saw someone standing in the doorway. Nodding, Fallon knew it was one of the women in marketing. Fallon smiled, "Hello, Ms. Pratt," Fallon said.
"Morning, Ms. Stafford," Gena Pratt said.
"Were you looking for me?" Fallon asked.
"Well, sort of," Gena said.
"Come in, Ms. Pratt," Fallon said.
Gena walked into Fallon's office. Fallon gestured to Gena to take a seat. Gena took a seat before Fallon's desk, while Fallon took a seat behind her desk.
"How can I help you, Ms. Pratt?" Fallon asked.
"Ms. Stafford, what was that whole thing at the game last night?" Gena asked.
"What do you mean?" Fallon asked.
"The whole go with whatever you say," Gena said.
"I'll ask you this; did you know what looked like before we met?" Fallon asked.
"Not really," Gena said, "I thought you were taller."
"I get that a lot, surprisingly," Fallon said.
"What's the point here, Ms. Stafford?" Gena asked.
Fallon leaned her head to one side, "Have you ever seen me in the gossip sheets?" she asked.
"No, I don't recall any at all," Gena said, "If I did, I could count it on the one hand."
"I like my privacy," Fallon said, "and I also like being able to go out and not be bothered by the paparazzi."
"Like going to an Islander's game?" Gena asked.
Fallon nodded, "Yes, exactly, like going to an Islander's game," she said.
"Why are you like that?" Gena asked.
Fallon sighed, "First world problems, really," she said.
"What do you mean?" Gena asked.
"I inherited this empire at sixteen-years-old, and people have tried to take advantage of such a fact," Fallon said.
"So, you pretend you aren't you?" Gena asked.
Fallon nodded, "Yes," she said.
Gena nodded, "I see," she said, "Can I be excused?"
Fallon nodded, and Gena got up and left.
