Hello, people!
Happy Saturday!
Housekeeping, first:
- Usual disclaimer applies - I still don't own any of it.
- Team Momo wouldn't exist without Midnight Cougar and Alice's White Rabbit with their red pens, or without AGoodWitch, Driving Edward, Mel, Maplestyle, and Eternally Addicted who pre-read and tell me if I'm off my rocker or not.
Also, I think I'm going to start a running list of all your nicknames for Rebecca because so far we've got some good ones! Great job!
I don't think it's a huge spoiler to tell you she is going to be around to ruffle everyone's feathers for a while ;-)
And yes, more than legit question to ask "who/why/how" was she hired, and didn't they realize how much a tool she was. Well ... As things stand, Rebecca is a composite of actual people I worked with in my 15 years in law firms. And yes, obnoxious incompetents liker manage to find jobs because they look good on paper, and know exactly WHEN and to WHOM they can show their claws.
That said ... today we get to hear from LawyerWard himself. Here we go!
Chapter 21 - EPOV
February 14. Valentine's Day. My first Valentine's Day with Bella.
I'd planned all sorts of things for us today. I bought her a gift. I arranged to send her flowers at the office. I made reservations for dinner.
Instead, it was almost seven p.m. and none of that was going as planned.
Bella called me half an hour ago, saying that she didn't know when she'd be able to make it home. Three things worried me about that call.
First, her voice. She sounded agitated and defeated at the same time, as if she was about to crumble, but barely held it together. Then, I received a notification from the florist hours ago that her arrangement was delivered, but Bella didn't mention it on the phone. Not even to thank me, and that was very unlike her. Third, in a tormented whisper at the very end of that hasty call, she told me to cancel our reservations because she didn't want me to have any issues with the restaurant.
Well, that just wouldn't do. I'd fix it. For us. First of all, I called the florist, and by sheer luck, they still answered the phone. I verified delivery details with them—as I suspected, reception at the office signed for it. That prompted another question—why didn't my flowers make their way to Bella's desk? Sneaky suspicion crept up my spine. As Emmett would say, this smelled like a snafu. My second call to the reception desk proved a tad more tortuous and made me even more suspicious.
If my assumptions proved correct, someone's head would roll. But I had something else to fix before sweeping in like a knight in shining lawyerly armor.
I called Emmett. He'd know. He picked up on the first ring.
"Hey, bro. What's shaking? Please tell me you're not in Ithaca today, of all days."
"No. I rearranged the week's entire schedule so I could be in Atlanta today, but the day has gone to utter and total shit," I growled.
"Ugh," Em lamented. "Shit, both you and Bells seem to be having a crappy day. What gives?"
"Don't even get me started. Hey, what's the name of that pub, sports bar, whatever it is that you and Bella go to?" Meanwhile, I picked up my overcoat, keys, and wallet, and made my way to the front door. I could talk to my brother while I drove to that place.
"The burgers place?"
I took the stairs to avoid losing cell reception while I rode the elevator. "Yes. That one. The one where you used to go in college."
Em snickered. "I don't know what you talk about with Bells, but we still go there. It's called A League of Extraordinary Smashers."
Of course—one of Em's places couldn't be named Bob's Pub or The Bull & Crown or Time Out. It had to be something over the top. My incredible powers of deduction also told me the place's specialty was probably smash burgers. Good to know.
"Do you need the address?" Em added when I didn't reply.
"Google Maps will do."
"Bella's usual order is an avocado and jalapeño smasher. Extra jalapeños, no tomatoes. Onion rings. Mayo on the side, no ketchup."
Bella and I had talked about that pub; to her and Em it was their safe place, where they met to commiserate, have fun, confide in each other. It stood to reason that she'd have favorite orders and he'd know those off the bat. However, with that realization came a pang of unease. All the things my brother knew about the love of my life, all the things I didn't know yet. It wasn't a knowledge gap—I had a fucking chasm to fill.
"Thanks, Em. I owe you one."
"No, you don't. Go get your girl, bro. See ya."
By the time the call ended, I was on the garage level and sprinting toward my car. I pulled up info for the pub on my phone and set directions for it while I placed another call to order ahead.
Whoever answered the phone recognized Bella's order and said they'd throw in extra onion rings for her, too. They also informed me that Bella preferred chocolate milkshakes, so I ordered two of those. I figured I'd try one. Maybe something sweet would erase this clusterfuck of a day.
When I got to the office, the evening receptionist greeted me.
"Good evening, Edward. Looking for Bella?"
Gloria had been with us for years—as a widowed lady whose children had left the nest, she didn't mind taking the later shifts on occasion. I appreciated her sense of duty and helpful nature above all.
"Hi, Gloria. I'll find her later, but first … a question, please."
She stood from her seat behind the reception desk, looked around, and came to stand beside me. "I hate having that barrier in front of me when I'm talking to people. Makes me look like a talking head. Anyway, what can I help you with?"
"Did you manage to look into that flower delivery?"
She put up a finger to pause me and reached for a notepad on the desk. "I checked. The arrangement was delivered at around eleven a.m. I'm on the afternoon/evening shift today, so I clocked in much later and wasn't here yet. I checked with the morning girls, too. No dice—one wasn't at the desk at the time, so she didn't see. The other mumbled something unclear, saying if we signed for the delivery, the flowers got here, but it's not her responsibility to investigate where they go after that, and personal tasks on behalf of the staff or lawyers are not in our job description."
The answer sounded like a combination of CYA and passing the buck, which enraged me instantly.
Gloria, however, noticed it and stopped me. "If you want my honest opinion, that answer is complete bullshit. A flower arrangement like that can't disappear into thin air. It has to be somewhere around here, if it didn't get where it was supposed to go."
"That'd be Bella's desk."
She nodded and rhythmically dangled the pen in her hand in one of those repetitive, pensive motions. "You're sure she didn't get it."
"She would've told me. I've never sent her flowers before." Admitting that to a coworker caused me to blush a little; it was another public acknowledgment of our relationship, which made me bashful and proud at the same time.
Gloria smiled at my revelation. "Oh, she would've. Ladies notice when you send them flowers, trust me. Well, I can't go on a scavenger hunt for you, because I have to stay at the front desk. But I mean, your name's on the door, who forbids you from doing it?"
She was right. Now that the office was almost empty, I could just wander through the hallways and peek into each office. I'd paid a pretty penny for those flowers, and if the florist had done their job, it would be easy to spot them.
With my bag of takeout in hand, I took my leave from Gloria and started my exploration. It occurred to me that it would probably be more comfortable for Bella to have dinner with me in my office. That way she'd get a true break from working, if she had a lot of that left to do. Plus, we'd have more privacy on the partners' floor.
I took the elevator straight to the fourth floor, hid the takeout in my office, and left to investigate the flowers' disappearance. I'd walk my way downstairs to her room at the same time.
As I suspected, I found no flowers on the partners' floor. The third floor housed most of the associates' offices, the office's library, and a few other working spaces.
After a few dark and empty rooms, I ran across a cone of light projected onto the hallway carpeting, presumably by a desk lamp. I knew that room. It used to be Liam Bamford's office, which meant that now—
"Edward! So nice of you to come visit me! Come in, please." Rebecca. Dammit. And based on her expression and tone, she wouldn't take no for an answer.
As I concocted an excuse to extricate myself, my gaze caught a pop of color in the background. Sitting on a small, round visitor table was a huge vase with an arrangement of tulips and calla lilies, still clad in the clear protective film the florist used to wrap it this morning. Those were my damn flowers—and I was sure of it because of the florist's logo on the wrapper and because of the array of flowers in that bunch. I'd picked them because of their meaning. Magnificence and beauty for the calla lilies, love and devotion for the assorted tulips.
"Where did you get those flowers?" My ice-cold voice froze the atmosphere, and her smug smile crumbled.
"Well, I … I thought they were for me. They were delivered at the reception desk, and it's my first week here, so clearly, they had to be for me," she rambled. All those words and no plausible explanation.
"Why would the firm send you flowers? Also, there's an unopened card on there that says 'Bella,' which I don't believe is your name." Forget the icy tone. I was fucking furious by now.
"Well, those idiots at reception didn't reply when I asked if they were for me. They preferred to talk to people on the phone instead of me, so I just took the flowers." The plausibility of Rebecca's excuses deteriorated by the second. She was clearly scraping the bottom of the barrel.
"It didn't occur to you that they'd be on the phone with clients? Because, you know, that's the reception desk. That's what they do."
I just noticed now she'd turned the same shade of hot pink as her pantsuit. She wasn't only pretentious and stupid, she also had terrible taste in fashion. I could almost hear the catty comments from my assistant—Alice's knack for fashion was legendary.
"But the flowers—"
"Are not for you. Give them back."
I also noticed she was completely unapologetic about appropriating my Bella's flowers. This woman was going to be more of a problem than my father had thought, in his infinite wisdom. If that was how she behaved in the office, the firm was in for a very rude awakening. And Rebecca would get dragged through the mud if she kept treating people like crap.
She didn't move, but tried to open her mouth and use words again.
I didn't allow her that luxury. I marched in, checked the flower arrangement for integrity, including the card, and grabbed it.
I stomped out of there in a red haze of fury, in search of my girlfriend.
Now I'd run into Rebecca, I had a very, very unpleasant feeling about what kind of day Bella must have endured.
Yeah, Edward-she's even worse than you remember. "Gird your loins," as someone said!
Catch you all next Saturday!