Mr. Chase was the boss and that when his decisions conflicted with hers, it was his orders that had to be followed.
After four years of being in control, that control was now gone, and it made her feel lost, afraid, and defensive. The more she tightened her grip, the more she saw control of the company slipping away.
She never ran into Nathaniel on her way to work, for he was always late, seldom coming in before nine. But he followed her home every night and when he tried to discuss changes with her during the short walk, she ignored him with the cool words, "Do what you like. You will anyway."
Nathaniel watched her enter her flat and shut the door in his face after repeating that statement for the third time in three minutes, and he sighed with frustration. He didn't want this. He wanted to make this partnership work. He knew she felt defensive and afraid of the changes, but there had to be a way to get past her defenses.
He went up to his flat and played the violin, trying to find a solution, a way to make peace as he let a Bach concerto relax him. When he finally set the violin aside, he had an idea. He just hoped it was the right one.
The next evening, after everyone had gone home and the factory was quiet, he went to her office. He knocked on her door, then opened it. "May I come in? I wish to talk with you."
Mara set her pencil aside. "About what?"
He stepped into her office and shut the door behind him. She noticed he had a flat, paper-wrapped package in his hand.
"What's that?"
He leaned his back against the door, and studied her for a long moment without replying. "It's a present for you," he finally said and walked to her desk. He placed it before her.
She studied the package, wrapped in tissue paper and tied with blue ribbons. "For me?"
He sat down in the opposite chair. "For you."
She frowned suspiciously, wondering what he was up to. Memories flitted through her mind of James giving her gifts, as if frivolous silk dresses she never wore and bottles of cologne she didn't like could make up for abandonment and months alone, as if they could magically wash away pain and neglect, as if they could turn her warm and soft in bed when she'd long ago ceased to find pleasure there. Be nice to me , he'd coax in the darkness. She closed her eyes to blot it out.
When she opened them, Nathaniel Chase was watching her.
"Why?" she asked in a choked voice. "Why are you giving me a present?"
He shrugged. "It's a Christmas present."
"It's July," she pointed out.
He smiled at her, that irresistible smile. "Well, at least I'm not late, for once."
She tried, she tried hard, to resist that smile. Biting her lip to stop her answering one, she pushed the package toward him. "I don't think it would be appropriate."
His smile widened, and he leaned forward to push the package back. "Perhaps not, but it's practical."
Curious, she reached out and fingered the satin ribbon, letting it slide across the leather of her glove.
"Open it," he urged.
She hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her. She untied the bow, rolled the ribbon, and set it aside. Then she began to unwrap the package, careful not to tear the paper.
"Don't be so slow," he urged, watching her. "Just rip it open."
"But if I'm careful, the paper can be used again."
He reached out, putting his hand over hers, forcing her to stop and look at him. "Mara, half the fun of giving someone a gift is watching them open it, watching them excitedly tear the paper off. You're missing the point."
"Oh," she murmured. When he leaned back in his chair, she hesitated a moment, then began ripping away the paper, and she had to admit it did make receiving a gift more exciting. She cast aside the shredded paper. "Is that better?" she asked, opening the box.
"Much."
She looked down into the box and frowned in puzzlement at what lay within. She lifted the odd item, studying its rectangular ebony frame, gold filigree trim, and jade beads, at a loss. "What is it?"
"It's an
After four years of being in control, that control was now gone, and it made her feel lost, afraid, and defensive. The more she tightened her grip, the more she saw control of the company slipping away.
She never ran into Nathaniel on her way to work, for he was always late, seldom coming in before nine. But he followed her home every night and when he tried to discuss changes with her during the short walk, she ignored him with the cool words, "Do what you like. You will anyway."
Nathaniel watched her enter her flat and shut the door in his face after repeating that statement for the third time in three minutes, and he sighed with frustration. He didn't want this. He wanted to make this partnership work. He knew she felt defensive and afraid of the changes, but there had to be a way to get past her defenses.
He went up to his flat and played the violin, trying to find a solution, a way to make peace as he let a Bach concerto relax him. When he finally set the violin aside, he had an idea. He just hoped it was the right one.
The next evening, after everyone had gone home and the factory was quiet, he went to her office. He knocked on her door, then opened it. "May I come in? I wish to talk with you."
Mara set her pencil aside. "About what?"
He stepped into her office and shut the door behind him. She noticed he had a flat, paper-wrapped package in his hand.
"What's that?"
He leaned his back against the door, and studied her for a long moment without replying. "It's a present for you," he finally said and walked to her desk. He placed it before her.
She studied the package, wrapped in tissue paper and tied with blue ribbons. "For me?"
He sat down in the opposite chair. "For you."
She frowned suspiciously, wondering what he was up to. Memories flitted through her mind of James giving her gifts, as if frivolous silk dresses she never wore and bottles of cologne she didn't like could make up for abandonment and months alone, as if they could magically wash away pain and neglect, as if they could turn her warm and soft in bed when she'd long ago ceased to find pleasure there. Be nice to me , he'd coax in the darkness. She closed her eyes to blot it out.
When she opened them, Nathaniel Chase was watching her.
"Why?" she asked in a choked voice. "Why are you giving me a present?"
He shrugged. "It's a Christmas present."
"It's July," she pointed out.
He smiled at her, that irresistible smile. "Well, at least I'm not late, for once."
She tried, she tried hard, to resist that smile. Biting her lip to stop her answering one, she pushed the package toward him. "I don't think it would be appropriate."
His smile widened, and he leaned forward to push the package back. "Perhaps not, but it's practical."
Curious, she reached out and fingered the satin ribbon, letting it slide across the leather of her glove.
"Open it," he urged.
She hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her. She untied the bow, rolled the ribbon, and set it aside. Then she began to unwrap the package, careful not to tear the paper.
"Don't be so slow," he urged, watching her. "Just rip it open."
"But if I'm careful, the paper can be used again."
He reached out, putting his hand over hers, forcing her to stop and look at him. "Mara, half the fun of giving someone a gift is watching them open it, watching them excitedly tear the paper off. You're missing the point."
"Oh," she murmured. When he leaned back in his chair, she hesitated a moment, then began ripping away the paper, and she had to admit it did make receiving a gift more exciting. She cast aside the shredded paper. "Is that better?" she asked, opening the box.
"Much."
She looked down into the box and frowned in puzzlement at what lay within. She lifted the odd item, studying its rectangular ebony frame, gold filigree trim, and jade beads, at a loss. "What is it?"
"It's an
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