Chapter 1 #2
She hadn’t wanted to think it. Hadn’t wanted to believe that someone would prefer her to be ill so they could play the role of benevolent helpmate.
So they could have someone to gossip about in hushed, concerned tones.
It went against the core of Rosemary’s “think positive” approach to life, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t deny what she saw.
Her mother had taught her to always look for the best but to never hide from the truth. So, she kept her rose-colored glasses in her pocket, accepted, and forgave. If someone needed another person’s suffering to make them feel good about themselves, they deserved her sympathy.
But not her friendship.
She was just grateful she’d never been foolish enough to let anyone actually see her bare head. Not even her sister had seen it. Only the wig-fitter. She’d left the days of being an object of pity firmly behind her. She had a new life now. There was no way she’d ever be laid bare like that again.
She did one more sweep of her scalp with the toothpick, then wrapped it in a paper towel and tossed it in the trash.
There were only two other women in the office: Lily, the receptionist/file clerk, and Marge, who wore the triple hat of bookkeeper, billing coordinator, and office manager.
She didn’t want them wondering why there were fruit-in-your-drink style toothpicks in the ladies’ room wastebasket every day.
She studied herself in the mirror. Straight nose, wide mouth, big blue eyes, and long-blonde hair that no one would ever suspect wasn’t her own.
If she braided it in pig tails, she’d look like the girl on the chocolate milk container her mother would sometimes buy her for a treat.
If she had on overalls, with her strong shoulders and full hips, she’d fit right in on a dairy farm.
Instead, her vintage, flared, navy skirt and white jacket made her look like an office admin from the 1950’s.
She brushed her hand down the wig’s silky-soft, donated, human hair.
It might feel scratchy and annoying against her scalp, but she cherished it.
Her hair was never going to grow back. Second, third, and fourth opinions had confirmed it.
The medicine that had saved her life had left her permanently bald.
The wig allowed her to be normal. Quiet, low-profile, under-the-radar normal.
That’s all she wanted. That’s why she couldn’t say “screw you” to the world and get rid of the goddamn wig.
Sage would do it. In a heartbeat. Nothing held Sage back.
Ever. And Sage was so ridiculously beautiful, being bald would probably only accentuate her exquisite features.
But Rosemary wasn’t bold and model-level gorgeous like her sister.
She was plain, easygoing. She didn’t ruffle feathers and didn’t make a fuss—and she liked it that way.
Which meant she needed to get out of the bathroom and back to her desk before Armando got worried and sent Lily or Marge to check on her.
That cringeworthy thought made her grab the file folder and her purse and head for the exit.
Hopefully, she’d make it to lunchtime without needing another scratch break.
The click of her navy heels echoed then muted as she journeyed to Lily’s large walnut-hued desk in the small but elegant reception area.
Nick Guerrero, the only other “associate” in Pannetone & Associates, had informed her that the travertine tile in the lobby had been imported from Tivoli and the hand-woven Turkish rug under the couch and chairs were Pannetone family heirlooms.
The room had the old-world elegance her stepfather had always strived for in his home but never quite achieved.
Every time she passed through, she slowed to admire the Impressionist-style watercolors that adorned the walls, the intricate cut glass light fixtures, and the delicate hand-painted porcelain vases full of fresh-cut flowers that sat on large half-pillars on either side of the lobby. The overall effect was simply stunning.
Not that Lily ever seemed to notice. Right now, she had her nose buried in her cell phone, oblivious to the beauty of her surroundings. Maybe if the woman took a minute to appreciate what was around her, she’d be less grumpy.
Negativity breeds negativity. Her mom’s voice shimmered in her mind, and Rosemary felt a wash of shame.
Lily had worked at the firm for several years and spent every day in the reception area, while she had just hit the six-month mark and spent most of her time diligently working in her office.
Of course, the beautiful room would have become commonplace for Lily.
Rosemary just couldn’t imagine not taking time each day to appreciate the graceful charm of the space.
Life was too short. You had to take all the pleasure you could in every small moment, since you never knew when those moments would run out.
Three bouts of bone cancer had taught her that.
She set the folder atop the raised portion of Lily’s desk and pasted a friendly smile on her face. “Good morning, Lily! Armando asked me to give you this.”
Lily didn’t look up.
“Would you also pull the files with the invoices for the Girard warehouse when you get a chance?” she asked.
Lily lifted her head and huffed. “Why do you need the invoices? Marge enters all the important information from the invoices into the system, and I do a double check. You shouldn’t need the paper copies for anything.”
“I understand that, but there are a few things I can’t quite figure out, and I think seeing the paper might help. Even with two big computer screens, sometimes it’s easier to shuffle through paper.”
“And last week, you asked to see the invoices for the Penrose project, which you aren’t even working on.
The whole reason we input the invoice information into the system is so the accountants don’t waste valuable client time wading through paper.
Mr. Pannetone says customers don’t want to pay hundreds of dollars an hour for accountants to do administrative work. ”
She kept her forced smile in place. Lily managed the file room, but she’d flat out refused to give Rosemary the Penrose files, saying she had to get Armando’s permission first. Rosemary had ignored her and gone to the file room and looked at what she needed without telling Lily what she was doing.
Still, she tried to soothe Lily now with an explanation.
“Penrose and Girard are both warehouse projects. I wanted to look at the Penrose invoices because those financials are complete. I thought looking at them would help me get a flavor of what type of expenses are normally involved in a warehouse project. I hoped it would help me do a better job on the Girard warehouse financials, which I am working on. I tried to access the Penrose invoices on the computer but couldn’t open any of those files, so I figured the paper files would be the next best thing. ”
“You need to ask Dante about your computer,” Lily snapped. “He’s the one who controls access to the electronic files.”
Her face might crack if she kept smiling, but if she got what she wanted, it would be worth it.
“I’m not asking about the electronic files.
I know that’s not your area. I’m asking you to pull the files with the invoices for the Girard warehouse for me.
This is my first Moresco project, so I want to make sure everything is perfect.
” She risked having her cheeks break and expanded her smile.
“I’ll look at them during my lunch hour, and I won’t bill the client for the time, so Armando won’t have any reason to complain. ”
“I’m not sure. I’m not supposed to be giving anybody any Moresco files without Mr. Pannetone’s express approval. Plus, I don’t have time to be running around for you.” Lily pointed one long hot pink fingernail toward a tall stack of paper on her desk. “I need to scan all these.”
“Mr. Pannetone assigned the Girard warehouse work to me, so I’m sure he won’t mind me reviewing the files if I don’t bill the client for my time. I know you’re busy, so I can just grab them myself. I need to go down to the file room anyway to talk to Dante about my access issues.”
Lily glared at her, the expression making her look older than her thirty-three years.
Lily was pretty, petite, and curvy with gorgeous long blue-black curls, but her nearly constant sour expression diminished her natural beauty.
She wanted to tell Lily that life was too short for so much anger, but she knew Lily wouldn’t appreciate the advice.
“I’m the only one who’s supposed to touch the files,” Lily said.
Rosemary leaned over and plucked an empty, dark blue file folder from Lily’s desk. “I’ll take this with me. I’ll pull one file out at a time and use this to mark the spot. Nothing will get out of place. I promise.”
Lily’s grimace softened a bit. “Fine. Just be careful.”
Rosemary swung by her office to grab her computer before heading down the internal fire exit stairs.
She’d rather take the chilly concrete stairs than the elevator any day.
The office occupied the second floor and basement of a building that dated back to the 1800s.
The elevator’s mechanics had been updated, but the size of the shaft was never enlarged, and the wood molding covering the walls made it feel even more cramped.
The first time she’d ridden in that elevator, it had taken fifteen minutes of meditation and deep breathing to stop sweating.
Now, she always took the stairs.
Once she reached the bottom of the stairwell, she entered the access code and pushed the cool, thick metal bar to open the heavy door that led into the file room.
The aroma of paper, warm electricity, and dust filled her nostrils.
To her left, old-fashioned metal shelves stood floor to ceiling in perfect rows.
She walked down the narrow aisle between the files and the wall, her low heels making oddly satisfying clicks on the gleaming linoleum.