The One Nighter by Shauna Hart Page B

hurt.
    Bad.
    In all the time she worked for him, she had always thought of him as a kind old man, a mentor. Even at the age of sixty-nine, he still came in every day. She had been his right arm. For the first time in her life, she’d felt needed. Now, amidst the confusion of a lost pay check and a loo m ing job search, she couldn’t help but feel betrayed.
    His silence at the moment of truth cut deep.
    Eventually, she found out from Jill that Mr. Turner had a lunch meeting with the new owner. The day seemed to come and go, with her spending much of the time hiding in her cubicle. Finally, it was five o’ clock, and she was free to go.
    Her intercom beeped.
    “Can you come in here for a moment, Melanie?”
    She grimaced at the receiver, thinking that it was just like him to still expect overtime even when she would soon be without a job. Still, she made her way through the girls milling around the entrance. Hesitating at the door, she took a deep breath to steady herself before knocking softly.
    “Come in,” Mr. Turner called out.
    She walked in, her stomach in knots.
    This was it.
    He looked up as she entered, putting the papers down.
    “Have a seat, Melanie.”
    He motioned to one of the overstuffed leather chairs. His silver hair glinted in the amber glow cast by the green executive lamp. The wrinkles surrounding his blue eyes seemed to deepen as he smiled. He removed his wire-rimmed gold glasses and laid them gently on the top of the desk.
    “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip by now,” he began.
    He shifted in his chair uneasily, and she was moment a rily rewarded by knowing that this was as difficult for him as it was for her.
    “It’s hard not to,” she answered honestly as she twisted her hands nervously together in her lap.
    “I’ve decided to sell the agency,” he confirmed with a finality that rang in her ears.
    “I see,” was all she could muster.
    “I think that you will really like the new owner. He’s much younger than I am, and I think he can bring a fres h ness to the business that I can’t.”
    His words left a bad taste in her mouth as she mulled them over.
    A freshness ?
    Funny, the agency never had a problem making money before. It seemed that the freshness Mr. Turner was looking for was nothing more than an easy excuse. She continued to give him her very best attempt at a steely glare. The cold s i lence caused him to let out a nervous cough.
    “I don’t want you to worry about anything, though. I’ve already talked to Mr. Mason, and he’s assured me that he won’t make any changes in the staff for at least six months. I’m hoping that will give everyone ample time to find something else if they decide they can’t work for him.”
    She couldn’t deny that she had known this day would come eventually. But she hadn’t thought it would be so soon. She wasn’t ready for everything she had worked so hard for to crumble. As she listened to him blithely reassure her, she felt as though years of her life were disappearing before her eyes.
    “I see.”
    “I made sure that your position will be secure, Mel a nie.”
    He opened his mouth to say more but was interrupted by the buzzing of his intercom.
    “Mr. Turner, your six o’ clock is here.”
    She got up and walked out, refusing to look back when he called after her. Stumbling through the office with eyes blurry from unshed tears, she barely noticed the sympathe t ic stares from the other women. She collapsed into her chair, allowing it to take the brunt of her weight. Emotions began to bubble to the surface, emotions she’d suppressed for the past few days. After all the years she’d worked for him, all of the late nights, all of the weekends, that was it! He’d made sure her position was secure.
    For how long?
    She wasn’t naïve. New owners didn’t care about her nights and weekends in service of another man. New ow n ers only cared about the bottom line, and despite Mr. Turner’s assurances, when he signed the