Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,13
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Satisfied, she left.
Caroline rounded my desk and hitched herself half onto the surface, seeming to enjoy the few inches of height it gave her over me. It was a game she played, an unveiled offering I’d never accept. I’d seen her unhinge her jaw and swallow people before, and though I’d be a tough bite to swallow, I wasn’t interested in that fight.
“Did you need something, Caroline?” I asked without making eye contact, jotting in the planner I kept on my desk—the hard copy to match the digital one.
“Just wanted to make sure you were ready for the meeting. Is there anything you need before we start?”
“I think I’ve got it under control, but thank you.”
“Any idea what we can expect from the bookstore’s little social media girl?”
A foreign feeling flickered in my chest. I ignored it, crossing off a few tasks I’d completed. “I don’t.”
She waited for me to elaborate. When I didn’t, she prompted me. “You met her at their party the other night, right?”
“I met all the store’s employees.”
Another pause. “And what did you think of her?”
The memory of what I’d said flashed in my mind. Perfectly tolerable. I didn’t know why I’d chosen those particular words to describe her. I only knew that I’d wanted Georgie to give up the push to get me to dance, and she wouldn’t until I made sure she knew how serious I was. But what did I really think of Laney? Over the last few days, I’d considered the question enough that I should’ve had an answer.
“I only spoke to her for a few minutes, so I really couldn’t say.”
“You are the worst gossiper on the planet, do you know that?”
I closed my planner with a snap and sighed through my nose, annoyed. “Gossip is for the weak and insecure, nothing but speculation and hearsay. It is, by nature, subjective—there’s not truth, only a spewing fountainhead of opinion. I can’t imagine why you’d think I’d want to participate.”
“You’re a robot,” she answered on a laugh, sliding off my desk.
When I stood, she took my arm as she often did—a territorial gesture I’d endured since we were teenagers—but I separated us at the first opportunity. This time, it was at the opening of my office door, which I held so she would pass through first.
Our offices bustled with activity, from a galley of cubicles to glass offices of drafting tables and conference rooms. Three generations of de Bourghs had run the firm, each more powerful than the one before. The Darcys constituted the associates on the placard, joining in with my grandfather, which was how Catherine had met my uncle—our familial ties. When my uncle died years ago, everyone thought she’d pass the mantle to someone else. But they had no children, and I wasn’t old enough to step into her shoes—even now I was in the midst of working my way up. She had also been groomed for this job but chosen the life of leisure once she married my uncle, but when he died, she took his place and had been captaining the ship with success ever since.
Unlike my uncle, Catherine had made no friends in the office—her ways were direct, strict, unbendable. Her word was gospel and her time more valuable than any of ours. Everyone in the office was afraid of her, as she’d been known to fire her employees on the spot for any reason. Questioning her in a meeting was almost certainly fatal. One word of gossip about her, you were out, whether you’d said it or not. Of course, she also cherished those who licked her boots, particularly if they were from the right family, like Caroline.
Just another of the many reasons to abide by her rules.
She lorded over the company with all the humility of a queen, though Georgie and I had insulation. When we had no one, we had Catherine, the last of our family. Cold and humorless though she might be, she made every Christmas special, every birthday unforgettable. She smiled most around Georgie and me, was always there for us, day or night, and would do anything short of murder for those she loved. We had lost our only family within a few years of each other, first her, then us, and loneliness and love bound us. I didn’t know how I’d have survived those first years without her.
Her frigid, unsmiling demeanor aside, she’d shown us love through a time when we needed her most, forging our bond in steel.