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“Good morning, Abby.” Parker Laird’s deep voice sounded in her ears. “Please make the following schedule changes and have a revised copy on my desk as soon as possible.”
As Abby listened to the instructions, she was dismayed to realize that Parker had made the tape this morning, prior to her early arrival.
Did the man never sleep?
Abby concentrated on Parker’s rapid-fire instructions. Although in deference to her inexperience, he frequently elaborated on what he wanted and who the members of various groups were, Abby had to rewind the tape countless times. She had a headache before eight o’clock. She also had several hours’ work ahead of her and hadn’t yet made a copy of the receptionist schedule.
But of course, she reminded herself, that’s why the Executive Assistant had a staff. She opened the door connecting Valerie’s office with Barbara and Nancy’s and stopped.
The office was empty. It was also ten past eight.
Her intercom buzzed. “Abby?”
Parker. Abby leaped to answer it. “Yes, Mr. Laird?”
“You didn’t leave a message, so I didn’t know if you were in or not.”
There hadn’t been anything on the tape about a message. “I’ve been here over an hour.”
“I wish I’d known. I’ve been waiting for you.”
There was no censure in his voice, yet even alone in the office, Abby’s face heated. “I’ll be right there.”
She fanned her face and started for Mr. Laird’s office, then stopped. With Nancy and Barbara not in yet, there was no one to answer the telephone. And Abby hadn’t had a chance to print out Mr. Laird’s revised schedule.
Scribbling some instructions on a sticky note, Abby stuck it right in the center of Barbara’s computer monitor, then hurried into Mr. Laird’s office.
What a horrible start to her tenure as his Executive Assistant.
Breathless, she arrived at the center of power without noticing the air, the carpet or the view.
But she did notice Parker Laird.
He stood clear on the other side of the room behind a long table covered with maps. Without looking at her, he beckoned her forward with the barest movement of his fingers.
Abby didn’t know whether she was supposed to join him at the table, or take the usual spot at the end of his desk. Valerie always seemed to know, but Abby couldn’t tell how. She hovered uncertainly by the desk.
Parker pulled a swing-arm lamp closer to the map. “Did you forget to tell me you were in this morning?”
“There weren’t any instructions to do so on the tape you left.”
He didn’t respond and Abby just stayed quiet. He still hadn’t looked at her. At last, he straightened, tapped the map with his finger, stared some more, then abruptly wheeled around and strode over to his desk. “From now on, when you arrive, leave a message on my voice mail.”
“Yes, Mr. Laird.” Abby made a note. This was a routine Valerie hadn’t told her about. She hoped the oversight wasn’t on purpose, but suspected it was.
“Do you have a copy of the revised schedule?” Parker Laird, all white shirt and French cuffs, sat at the desk and swiveled to face her.
“I was working on it when you called. I left instructions for Barbara to print out a copy.”
Parker looked down at his watch and then at her. “And that will be...?”
Abby swallowed, torn between defending herself by exposing Barbara and Nancy, thus completely alienating them, or taking the blame for not being organized this morning. “As soon as possible, Mr. Laird,” she bluffed and met his gaze, pen poised.
He continued to gaze at her, his expression attentively blank, as though waiting for her to grasp some concept. She had a horrible feeling that he wasn’t fooled at all.
“Do you have any further changes to the schedule before we print out a final copy?” she asked, mostly to sound efficient in spite of her inefficiency.
“There’s never a final copy,” he murmured. “Only a most recent copy.”
“Do you have any further changes to the schedule before we print out the most recent copy?” Abby amended as though she hadn’t previously spoken.
Parker Laird blinked. He was looking at her as though he was inwardly amused and teetering on the edge of a smile.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“No, thank you, Mr. Laird.”
He continued to gaze at her with the same expression.
“Oh!” Abby shot to her feet. “Coffee!” No, thank you, Mr. Laird. She cringed. “I—I’ll—”
He held up a hand. “Making coffee isn’t one of your responsibilities, but if you happen to be drinking a cup when I call for you, feel free to bring it with you.”
“Of course, Mr. Laird.” Abby was a tea drinker but couldn’t imagine ever being relaxed enough to drink in front of Parker Laird.
“In fact, should you want a cup, say, right now, you can get one when you bring the schedule.” He spoke in a measured tone with only the slightest emphasis on the last words.
Bring the schedule. Abby got the message. “Thank you, Mr. Laird.” Abby backed her way across the room. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
Idiot, idiot, idiot, she chanted to herself as she raced back to her office.
Incredibly, neither Barbara nor Nancy had arrived. Abby sat at the computer, frantically opened the schedule file and typed in the changes, conscious of the passing minutes—conscious that the current fifteen minute block of time was allocated to “Phone Ian Douglass in Aberdeen” and not “Wait for Abby to type schedule.”
She was shouting, “Hurry!” at the laser printer when Barbara arrived, a cup from a gourmet coffee shop in her hand.
“A little frazzled this morning, are we?” she asked.
“Where have you been?” Abby snapped. She’d rehearsed various approaches at chastising Barbara and Nancy for their tardiness. This wasn’t one of them.
“Valerie told us to come in at eight-thirty this morning. She thought it would give you time to get organized.”
Abby yanked the pages from the printer output. “From now on, please come in at eight o’clock. Even earlier, if you can manage.” She was so angry, she could barely look at Barbara.
“I’ll try, but it depends on traffic and the school won’t let parents drop off their kids before seven-thirty.”
At that, Abby looked fully at Barbara. “I was here at seven this morning,” she said evenly, “and there was an entire tape of instructions waiting for me.” Now do you see why Valerie named me Acting Executive Assistant?
Barbara apparently received Abby’s unspoken message. “What can I do?” she asked, stuffing her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk.
“I’m on my way back to Mr. Laird’s office. He has a meeting at ten and wants files pulled to study before then. Details are in my notes.”
Barbara pried the plastic cover off her coffee cup. “I’ll take care of it.”
Glad the challenge to her authority had come and gone quickly, Abby hurried back to Parker’s office. Outside, she drew several deep breaths so she wouldn’t arrive panting at his desk.
Parker was facing the windows as he spoke on the phone when Abby unobtrusively took her seat by the desk.
“Yes, Ian.”
This would be the eight-thirty call to Aberdeen. Abby remembered her vow to have something to occupy herself. Of course, she didn’t, so she studied the schedule, breaking down the tasks and assigning them to either Barbara or Nancy. She finished in three minutes, but pretended she hadn’t.
She would not look in the glass.
As she worked, her skin prickled. He’s looking at me.
But that was ridiculous. He wasn’t looking looking. He was probably simply staring blankly as he concentrated on his telephone call.
From her experience with Valerie this past week, Abby had learned that Parker liked to jot notes immediately after a telephone call, so when he disconnected the call, she remained quiet.
He scribbled a line or two, then looked toward her with a raised eyebrow.
She stood. “Here’s the schedule, Mr. Laird.”
“Call me Parker, Abby,” he said, taking it from her.
Call him Parker? Abby’s mouth worked, but nothing came out.
He glanced up at her.
“A-all right, Mr. Laird.”
“Parker.”
“All right, Mr. Parker.”
He blinked once, then said, “When you call me Parker, you get to drop the Mr.”
“Yes, sir.”
His brow furrowed. “It bothers you to use my name?”
Bother wasn’t the right word. Maybe uncomfortable was, but she didn’t want to admit to it. “Valerie always calls you Mr. Laird, so I’m used to it.”
He nodded. “Valerie has called me Mr. Laird since I was thirteen years old. I cannot break her of the habit. If it helps, think of Parker as a more efficient use of time. Only two syllables to say.”
Was he making a joke? “Yes, sir.”
He gave her a long look before saying dryly, “Sir would, of course, be most efficient of all.” Turning his attention to the schedule she’d set on his desk, he glanced through it. “The meeting at ten is informal and I don’t anticipate it lasting more than an hour. However—” he stopped and made a note “—my brother will be with us, and Jay is notoriously unpredictable, so we might stretch to lunch. I want you to be prepared to order sandwiches—that sort of thing. Valerie uses the deli down the street.” He waved his hand. “They make an assortment platter that’s worked well in the past.”
Abby knew what he was talking about. She’d called in the order before. “Yes, sir—Parker.”
“Abby?”
She looked up and met his gray gaze.
“Parker,” he murmured. “Just Parker.”
Nodding, she repeated, “Just Parker.” Parker, Parker, Parker, she drilled into her mind. What was the matter with her? By asking her to call him Parker, he was trying to put her at ease and she’d turned it into something awkward instead of just calling him by his name.
During the next ten minutes, Abby avoided calling him anything at all. “I’ll be back with the files,” she informed him when they’d finished, but he’d already turned his attention to the next event on his schedule.
Fortunately, Barbara had put the files he wanted on her desk. By the time Abby delivered them, Nancy had arrived and both women were ready for their next assignments. Abby showed them the schedule and the tasks, and without complaint or comment, they started working.
She sat down to catch her breath. She was refastening the barrette that clipped the hair at the back of her neck when the interoffice messenger wheeled in a dolly with two black boxes containing the morning’s correspondence, reports, messages, requests and memos.
It was the Executive Assistant’s job to sort through everything and decide what deserved Mr. Laird‘s—Parker’s—personal attention and what could be handled by the staff.
She’d just reached for the brown routing envelope on top when the staff telephone started ringing. With resignation, she waited for the buzz on her phone.
Without a doubt, this first phone call would be some earth-shattering problem that she was illequipped to deal with. She dropped her head to her desk, and when the phone buzzed, it sounded loud in her ear.
“Peter Frostwood on line one,” intoned Nancy. She’d drawn first receptionist duty.
Peter Frostwood was the head of Laird North America. Of course. Hadn’t she expected as much?
“Abigail Monroe,” she said.
There was a brief silence. “I asked for Valerie.”
“I’m Acting Executive Assistant while Ms. Chippin is away,” Abby reminded him. There had been a memo sent to all department heads. She’d typed it herself.
“Tell Parker I need to see him ASAP.”
This was where it got tricky. Abby had to decide, without knowing if Peter Frostwood was the alarmist type, whether to interrupt Parker’s preparations for the meeting or give him the message at their noontime conference. Asking a highly-placed executive to explain himself was presumptuous. Interrupting Parker for every little thing defeated the whole purpose of an executive assistant.
“Mr. Laird is preparing for a meeting at ten o’clock and his schedule for the day is booked,” she explained. “Shall I put you through to discuss a time when it will be convenient for you to see him?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Abby buzzed Parker. If he objected to the interruption, he’d tell her. “Peter Frostwood needs to speak with you.”
“Okay.”
And that was all. She’d chosen correctly. This time.
Abby eyed the two full boxes. She’d gone through similar boxes with Valerie last week and knew there would be another load delivered in the afternoon.
As Valerie had taught her, Abby culled the papers into those requiring action, signature, and information. Valerie ranked the action items, but Abby didn’t feel capable yet. The production reports, long tedious pages of numbers, were to be entered into a spreadsheet program. That had frequently been Abby’s job and she was delighted to assign it to Nancy.
