Chapter 3
Morgan
Walking these halls feels odd, simultaneously both familiar and new.
I remember choosing this building, signing a contract to close on it, then building an empire not only floor by floor, but rippling out like a water ring in a pond, expanding Andrews Consolidated across the globe.
Every hallway, every corner, every little foible in it are seared into my DNA.
But there are so many people I don’t recognize, and who don’t recognize me.
To be fair, I’m not wearing the same kind of suit that I wore like a uniform for so many years, but rather slacks and a polo shirt, the retiree’s version of business casual.
Still, the security guard downstairs had to override a new hire who tried to stop me from entering my own damn building and then laughed nervously when I told him my name.
That is not the case on the executive floor, where everyone knows me on sight. “Mr. Andrews!” Courtney’s assistant sputters, instantly rising to her feet when I enter.
I search my brain only slightly before finding the needed information considering Courtney’s assistant is hard to forget with her black cat-eye glasses and bouffant updo wrapped in a leopard-print scarf.
“Jillian! Good to see you,” I tell her warmly, before lowering my voice, “I’m hoping to surprise my little girl for lunch.
” I hold up a bag from our favorite deli, shaking it delicately, and she grins like she’s been let in on a secret.
“I even brought you lunch as a bribe to get me onto Court’s busy schedule.
” I look left and right like someone might overhear us and confide, “Plus a slice of cheesecake with white chocolate raspberry truffle sauce. To die for,” I gasp, a hand to my stomach.
She blushes, literally turning four shades pinker at my lame attempt at dramatics.
“Consider her schedule clear for the next hour.” I smile in appreciation, but she adds, “Sixty minutes exactly. She has a car coming to take her to a meeting across town at one-thirty and I will interrupt your family lunch if necessary.”
This is why Jillian is my daughter’s assistant – flexible, but firm, spontaneous, but with foresight. She’s the spice to Courtney’s seriousness.
“Deal.” I open the bag, pulling out the smaller one inside and handing it over to Jillian, before knocking on Courtney’s door. I wait for her to call out permission to enter and then open the door. “Hey Courtney!”
“Dad?” she mutters, a phone pressed to her ear. Shaking her head, and with her eyes locked on me, she tells whoever’s on the phone, “No, sorry. Someone walked into my office. Can we discuss this later?” She pauses, listening, and then says, “I’ll have Jillian reach out to schedule it.”
Courtney hangs up and from behind me, Jillian calls out, “Already rescheduling the call. You and Mr. Andrews have fifty-eight minutes. Not a minute more.”
I chuckle, closing the door behind me.
Courtney rises from her desk, coming around to give me a hug. “Is everything okay? I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Just feeling a bit nostalgic for the days of yore when we’d have lunch together. I brought your favorite – pastrami and bacon on whole wheat, extra horseradish. And while the deli didn’t have cupcakes, I did grab you a chocolate chip cookie that’s as big as a saucer.”
Her smile almost makes me second guess this whole thing. I should’ve done this a long time ago, for altruistic reasons with zero ulterior motives. I make a mental note to follow through on that thought after this whole scheme plays out.
“Ahh, Dad. That’s sweet. I assume you got me extra pickles too, so you can steal them?”
I wink. “You know me too well.”
We sit down to eat at the small conference table in her office, but she freezes, sandwich halfway to her mouth for her first delicious bite. “What’s that?” she asks in horror, looking at the takeaway box I pull out of the bag.
“Summer salad. It has chicken, strawberries, walnuts, and kale.”
Her nose crinkles in disgust. “Why? Where’s your heart attack triple-layer club we don’t tell Mom about?”
I shrug, nonchalant as I can be. “Trying to eat a bit healthier these days. Need to keep my trim figure,” I tease, adding a mischievous wink. If Kimberly and I pull this off, I’ve got a second career in Hollywood waiting. “So what’s happening in Courtlandia?”
Still not believing my choice of lunch, she slowly reminds me, “You saw the Board of Directors meeting notes.”
“Not with Andrews,” I say dismissively. “What’s happening with you… and Kaede… and life?”
“What isn’t happening?” she laughs. “Did he or Ross tell you about the new location they’re scouting in Dubai?”
I shake my head and she’s off, telling me all about the plans Kaede and Ross have to expand globally into an entirely new market.
It’s an exciting prospect, one I’m glad to hear about.
One I wish I’d heard about sooner, which solidifies why Kim and I’s midnight melancholy warrants strategic chess moves such as this lunch.