Been In Love Before: A Novel by Bryan Mooney Page B

real question is—could that crazy guy come back? Will he try to . . .
    “Mr. Macgregor?”
    “Yes,” he said, looking up at the young man standing before him in a dark suit and tie.
    “Good afternoon, sir. Will you please follow me?”
    “Sure.”
    “Ms. Callahan’s office is on the top floor, the executive floor.” As they exited the elevator, they walked past employees in large meeting rooms seated around long wooden conference tables. Other employees were busy on the phones in cubicles and in larger offices with windows bringing in the bright Florida sunlight. The phones were ringing nonstop, making the whole scene seem almost surreal. The closer he got to her office, the darker and thicker the carpet felt beneath his feet. Soon they were standing before a woman with short dark-brown hair, wearing small round glasses and dressed in well-tailored clothes. This is not the Coleen I remember. Must be a different Coleen. There must be a million Coleens in the world, he thought to himself.
    His escort stopped and turned to him. “Here you go. Nice to meet you, Mr. Macgregor. This is Margaret, Ms. Callahan’s executive assistant, whom I believe you spoke with on the phone. You’re in good hands.”
    “Thank you, Tony,” she said as he departed, then smiled a kind and comfortable smile, the kind that comes from being good at one’s job and from one’s boss’s knowing it. “Good morning, Mr. Macgregor. So nice to meet you. I’m Margie. We talked on the phone yesterday.”
    “Ah yes, please call me Robert. My friends call me Mac.”
    “Sure, Mr. Macgregor . . . I mean Robert. I expect Ms. Callahan back soon. Why don’t you have a seat in her office and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you some coffee? Soda? Tea? Sparkling water?”
    “No, I’m fine, thank you,” he said as he glanced at his watch. He was nervous, and he did not know why.
    “She won’t be long. She’s never late. Please have a seat.”
    He glanced around her corner office and could not help but notice a large silver tennis trophy in the center of her dark cherry desk. He read the multiple civic citations on the wall, along with plaques honoring her and the company’s charitable programs. A dozen or so birthday cards littered her desk and credenza. He glanced at the inscription on one:
     
    Mom—
    Happy birthday—you get better every year.
    Diane
     
    His eyes searched for a photo, any photo. Then he found it. A small photo of a woman wearing a hard hat, standing in the center of a group of men at a ground-breaking ceremony. She was carrying a silver shovel and was about to kick off the start of a new building. He leaned in to get a closer look. He squinted. Could it be? Could that be . . .
    “Great day, but a terrible photo,” he heard a female voice say from behind him. “That was the ground-breaking ceremony for this building.”
    He turned to face her as she extended her hand. “Hiya, Mac. It’s been a long time,” she said in a whisper. “I wasn’t sure if that was you on the phone when we talked.”
    He was speechless, standing there, slowly shaking her hand. “It’s good to see you,” he finally said.
    “Yes,” she said, slowly removing her hand from his.
    He didn’t know what to say, what to do. He stood there with his mouth partially open, staring. It had been so many years since he had seen her last. She looked the same in his eyes. Beautiful. He was awestruck, as if he were meeting a rock star backstage.
    “I’ll leave you two be,” said Margaret, coughing, slowly closing the door behind her as she exited the room. They were so intent on each other, they never noticed her departure.
    “Sit down, Mac, before you fall down,” Coleen said, pointing to a nearby sofa. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    “No, just somebody I haven’t seen in . . . in . . .”
    “In a very long time, but at our age we don’t have to count the years anymore, now do we?”
    “You’re right.