Chapter 4
Lucia
Who is he?
He’s the handsome man from the bar, obviously. But why is here?
Mrs. Wagner slapped him on the back of the head in a way one would only do with someone who is highly familiar.
Mrs. Wagner, as a member of the board, is on Mr. Peltz’s list of those whose calls he always takes.
I’ve always been curious about both her age and skin routine. Is she his lover? The way she hit him…is she his mother? It was more of a scolding and I suppose it was done in a motherly way.
Why? Did she misinterpret his shock? Was that jealousy? Or was it a motherly reaction, telling her son to not stare?
My screen holds the bar graph I’m creating, but what I see is him. His dark hair seemed purposefully ruffled, less put together than when I met him at the bar. Was his facial hair longer too? And those eyes…they drilled into me. Did he have any idea how my heart pitter pattered like stormy rain on glass?
He paused, ever so slightly, as if he might acknowledge me. Might say hello. Or did I imagine that?
“Lucia, ah, he asked for me. I’ll head in.” Graeme’s kind voice brings me back to the room, to my place of work. I blink, searching the screen for a notice from my boss I might have missed. “Are you okay, dear?”
“Oh, yes. Did he…did I miss?—”
“No worries, dear. He called me directly.”
“Then yes, please, go in.”
Graeme Shoemaker is the head of Human Resources, or in Lumina lingo, the head people officer. He’s approaching retirement age, as is my boss, Mr. Pelz. Both men rose together in the company, and they’re fast friends.
It’s not surprising Mr. Pelz would call him directly, but it is unusual. He likes to text me with messages like “Get Graeme,” or “Schedule lunch with Graeme.”
Most of the directors and managers below Mr. Pelz manage their own schedules. Mr. Pelz belongs to the old regime, and he’s resistant to change.
Graeme leaves the door ajar and as I force my focus on preparing the report for a meeting Mr. Pelz has at the end of the week, I can’t help but hear their conversation.
“What do you make of it?” My boss asks Graeme.
“I’ll agree it’s unexpected. If he were my son, I’d want him to come to work for me. To help me take my new company to the next level. I’d think that would be far preferable to joining a company I sold and maintained a board seat on. But…”
“Did she come to you about this?”
“No. But, what I was going to say is that there are a number of reasonable explanations. Perhaps she doesn’t want to work with her son. As you know, she didn’t particularly enjoy working with her husband. Not that I can blame her. I shutter at the thought of working with my wife. Or maybe it’s as simple as he doesn’t wish for a career in cosmetics?”
“Why start a career in your mid thirties? He’s literally done nothing since finishing university. He lives a life of leisure and by all accounts, there is no need for him to change.”
“Well, by all accounts.” The tone Graeme uses mocks the words. “We don’t know the terms of his trust fund. Perhaps he has to have meaningful employment by a certain age. Thirty-five would seem like a decent age to set such terms. No?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“What has you so worked up?” It’s funny that Graeme asks, as I’m thinking the same. My boss plans to leave in the near future.
“Seriously Graeme? You should be worked up to. We’re being forced to take on an employee at the director level and he has no experience. She expects me to train him. To teach him everything like she taught me. As if. Decades I’ve spent working here. She’s all of ten years older than me. She was the same level as me, and then she marries the owner’s son. What exactly do you think she thinks she taught me?”
“In all fairness, she got things done.”
“She’s a shrew. Working for her was hell. And now she rings and expects I’ll do her bidding.”
“You don’t have to, you know.”
“Yes, I bloody well do. Need I remind you that as a board member, she weighs in on my retirement package?”
“Did she threaten you?”
“I’ve worked with her long enough that I know how she works. And now she wants me to train her son so he can take over my role.”
“Isn’t retirement in your near-term plans?”
“I don’t want to be forced out.” I’ve not heard Mr. Peltz this emotional ever. “Not after everything I’ve given to this company.”
Graeme chuckles. It’s a hearty, full on belly laugh. Not for the first time, I wish he were my boss. Nothing gets to him. He’s what I imagine my father might’ve been like had circumstances been different.
“Graeme…” Exasperation coats the one word. “You left the door ajar.”
Steps approach, quick and firm.
The gap widens, and Mr. Pelz appears.
“Lucia?”
“Sir?” I do my best to paste on a blank face. They often have meetings with the door ajar, so I’m unsure why he appears so agitated with me.
“Good. Just…” he releases a pained sigh and points a finger down the hall. “Just past there, the empty office we use for storage?”
“Yes?” I ask as brightly as possible.
“Clean it out and prepare it for a new executive.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call down to IT and have them set up a computer.”
“And you said executive level, sir?”
“Yes, that’s right. We have a new executive.”
“Name sir? And title?”
I pick up a pen and let it hover over a notepad.
He opens the door wider to afford me a view of Graeme sitting in a guest chair.
“What title should I give him?”
“Director of Research.” He shrugs like it’s simple. “You have many of those. Why should he have a different title than the others?”
“Right.” He addresses me with a simple, “His name is Tristan Wagner. Title Director of Research. Tell IT to set him up like we would any other employee at the director level.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Lucia?” Graeme calls from his seated position.
I lean forward and raise my voice, “Yes?”
“I’ll have Elizabeth handle everything from the HR side, alright dear? She’ll be in touch shortly.”
“Of course.”
“Why are you placing him so close to you?” Graeme asks as the solid door closes.
“To keep an eye on him.” As if aware I heard that, Mr. Pelz glances over his shoulder at me. “He’s not known for his work ethic.”
The heavy door clicks closed, and I’m left with the need to shout a thousand hail Marys.
He’s going to be working twenty feet away from me. And he’s the son of a board member. He’s the son of the founder of the company. The man from the pub could be my future boss.
A thousand hail Marys might not be enough. All the luck that skirted my family has been delivered to me in one sweeping act.