back and finished his coffee. He only needed to talk to the woman, surely. He could be persuasive when he set his mind to it.
*****
Anthea rearranged the strap of her satchel-type bag on her shoulder and marched across the gleaming tiled foyer of the offices of Dart Logistics. She was shooting for purposeful, and thought she might have nailed it. The middle aged receptionist smiled up at her from behind her computer. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Anton diMarco please. Anthea Richmond. I have an appointment.”
The receptionist offered her another warm smile as she tapped numbers into her keyboard. “I have Anthea Richmond in Reception, to see Mr diMarco.” A pause, then, “Of course. I’ll send her right up.” She returned her attention to Anthea. “You need the second floor. The lift’s over there. Mr diMarco’s PA will meet you upstairs.”
Anthea thanked her and headed for the lift. First impressions do count, and the outward face of Dart Logistics seemed pleasant enough, professional with just the right dash of welcoming to put visitors at their ease. Despite this, as she pressed the call button and waited for the car to arrive she wondered, not for the first time, why she was even bothering with this meeting. She had no intention of agreeing to a secondment here.
The timing couldn’t be worse. Stephen’s plans for the future of Kershaw Storage were unpredictable, especially since he started dropping big hints about wanting to spend more time with his wife. But even without that complication, she wouldn't be interested. Anthea liked order, she craved certainty. A six month stint in a strange, ailing company, where she knew no one, where she would have to prove herself all over again to yet another sceptical and hostile audience? No thanks. Not for her.
Not happening.
The lift came to a smooth halt at the second floor and the doors glided open. Anthea stepped out to be greeted by another middle aged woman, but where the receptionist on the ground floor had oozed quiet calm, this individual crackled with nervous energy. Anthea half expected to feel a jolt of electricity shoot up her arm as the woman took her hand and shook it.
“Mrs Richmond? So nice to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you already. I’m Isabel Barnard. I act as PA to Mr diMarco and I’ll be looking after you too, if you join us. Which we hope you will, obviously. This way please. Mr diMarco will see you straight away.”
Anthea followed the woman’s bustling figure as she trotted off along the corridor, conscious she hadn’t managed to get even one word out. She’d hardly set foot in the place and already her fame seemed to be spreading. Was that a good thing?
It hardly mattered. She wouldn't be joining this firm anyway, helping to prop up this Mr diMarco who seemed incapable of putting his own house in order. She was here out of loyalty to Stephen, nothing else. She was genuinely fond of her employer. He’d had confidence in her and was able to overlook her other shortcomings because she did a damn fine job. Still, she felt indebted to the elderly businessman who’d been able to see past the uptight, driven young woman asking him for a position in accounts. He set her on, and allowed her to hone her natural talents, encouraging her to assume more and more responsibility across all facets of his business. She’d amply repaid his confidence in her in the couple of years she’d worked for him, and in return she knew that Stephen valued her. He respected her. He understood her.
Which was why she was so unnerved now at the prospect of his looming retirement. The next CEO would no doubt find her awkward and gauche. Everyone else seemed to. Her direct, tactless approach would get her into trouble as it always did before. It wasn’t that she ever intended to be rude, just that things came out wrong. Her career before Kershaw’s was littered with irritated or offended colleagues, complaints, grievances. She dreaded the thought of starting all over with a new boss.
There was an alternative, but that was probably even worse. Stephen had dropped a few hints, and she’d managed to deflect him. Then he’d come right out with it. He wanted her to take over as CEO when he retired. He’d suggested she accept promotion to the role of deputy CEO now, with a view to stepping up in due course. Better still, he’d