Chapter 11
Maisie
M y days at Foster Inc are peaceful, and I enjoy it. For two months, I’ve worked long hours, but they are broken up by lunch with Stella, who was assigned as team lead on several new projects and recently seems to have caught the eye of one Eaton Masters, CFO.
That’s where we are right now. Enjoying a quiet lunch. At least we were… until Stella decides to drop a bomb on me. “When will you admit that Jack Frost wants you to thaw his frozen heart?”
I nearly choke on my chips. “Stella! He wants no such thing!” I can feel my face heating as a blush streams across my cheeks. Curse my pale skin.
“Puh-lease. Everyone knows it but you, girl. He stares at you like you’re his favorite meal, and he’s on death row. You joke and banter. And I swear I heard him laughing when you told him that joke about the kangaroo and the dingo the other day. I’ve been working here for four years and never even knew the man could smile. His door was never open. He only took an interest in the company’s bottom line. Since you started, his door is always open, he’s upgraded the canteen with your favorite foods, and he’s approved a more generous holiday package because you once spent forty-five minutes going on about everything you love about Christmas. You both constantly prank each other—girl, he buys you whatever you request for the office.”
“Stella. You’re nuts. I’m leaving in a month. We’ve just spent a lot of time together and developed a friendship. That’s all.”
“Mhmmm. I have some oceanfront property in Arizona to sell you if you believe a single thing that’s come out of your own mouth, Maisie Mitchell.”
“You’re crazy.” I clear my tray before making my way to the lift.
I then head straight to my desk when the doors open on my floor. I stop at the threshold to Jack’s office and watch him read over a report for a moment. It is a Friday afternoon, so the schedule has a lot of downtime. Jack prefers it this way because it sets the tone for a relaxing weekend. Stella’s comment about him giving me whatever I want floats in my head, and I suddenly want to test the theory. I know Jack loathes my favorite holiday. What I don’t know is why. So I challenge myself to find out.
“I have an idea!”
Jack’s head pops up, and for a split second, I see what I think is hunger in his gaze before he carefully blanks his face. “Miss Mitchell has an idea. I’m officially quaking in my Oxfords. What is this idea, then?” His tone is teasing, which completely contradicts how he usually reacts.
“I want to get a head start on decorating the office for Christmas. I don’t want to leave it for the last minute since I won’t be here much longer.”
Jack frowns, leaving me to wonder which statement is giving him pause. “Of course. Decorate the outer office and the rest of the building as you see fit. I’ll give you the number of the company we usually use. You can plan the Christmas party too, if you want.”
I watch as he opens an email, presumably sending me the information he mentioned, and squeak out a brisk “okay” before I return to my desk. Where I grab my phone and text Stella.
Me: I’m planning the company Christmas party, and he gave me permission to decorate the office.
I chew on my thumbnail as the dots dance at the bottom of the screen.
Stella: I knew it! Sorry… I ducked into the ladies to avoid Eaton. Anyway, so it’s true. The pretty Aussie thawed Jack Frost’s heart after all!
Me: It isn’t like that, and you know it!
Stella: He hasn’t been as grumpy since you started. I know he watches you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. I also know that in all my time here, we never had a company Christmas party, nor has the office been decorated for the holiday.
I can almost hear her gloating. Rolling my eyes, I write a quick text back.
Me: Just for that, you’re helping me plan this.
Stella: Jeez. Fine. Uh-oh, I can hear Eaton calling my name. GTG.
I drop my phone back into my purse and open my inbox. Jack’s email stares back at me. I want to click on it, but a more pressing subject line catches my attention. Marcus McIntyre canceling his appointment.
Oh boy, this will not go over well at all.
I make a quick phone call before getting up and walking over to Jack’s open door. “So. Mr. Foster? I just got an email…” I trail off.
“Well, Miss Mitchell, you receive many emails at your job. What makes this one noteworthy?”
I clear my throat. “It’s from Marcus McIntyre. He’s canceling his meeting with you.”
Jack sets down the report he is reading and removes his glasses, which gives him more of a devil-may-care vibe—sexier than I am prepared to admit.
“Did he say why?” While his tone is civil, I feel the chill coating the words. Mr. Foster is gone, Jack Frost firmly in his stead.
I shift nervously. “He did not. I called his assistant, who said he was preparing for a trip to Aspen with his family. I managed to get the dates from her, but she wouldn’t give me more information than that.” I place the notes on his desk and take a few steps back.
“Miss Mitchell, please go to the canteen and have a break. Maybe Miss Jarvis will want to join you. I’ll text you when you can come back up. Oh, if you happen to come across Eaton on your way down, please ask him to stop by my office. That will be all.”
I grab my purse and quickly swing by Stella’s workspace.
“What’s the hurry? Is the building on fire?” She barely has time to swipe up her phone before I’m dragging her away from her desk.
“I got an email from Marcus McIntyre’s assistant canceling the meeting.”
“No! Why?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is that Marcus is going to be in Aspen next week. Even that took some sweet talking to pry out of his assistant. When I told Mr. Foster, he got super quiet and asked me to take a break and tell Eaton to come to his office if I saw him.”
“What!” Stella begins to type on her phone.
“What are you doing?” I try to peek over her shoulder.
“Texting Eaton to go see Mr. Foster.” Her fingers fly over the keys, but the screen is tilted so I can’t read it.
“Eaton, huh?” I stand on my tiptoes, trying to read the message chain while hating being short.
Stella blushes. “That’s not important. What is important is finding out why McIntyre canceled the meeting on such short notice…”
“We’ll come back to that. As far as the meeting goes, I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.” By this time, our lattes are ready, so we grab them and a couple of muffins. “I worked up that portfolio myself. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement for all parties. There is nothing hinky or even remotely one-sided with the contract.”
“When do you leave again? Also, I can’t believe you’re leaving! The office won’t be the same without you. I swear you’ve turned this company around in such a short time. I will miss you!”
“I officially have a month left. However, I’ve unofficially been approved to return to Australia before Christmas to be with my nan. I haven’t been home for more than high school breaks since I left when my mother passed. I only got to go on those because Father didn’t want me at the house. To be fair, I didn’t want to be there either so it worked for us. I’m more than ready to see her again.” I smile at the thought of my nan.
“Well, I really will miss you. You have to promise to keep in touch.”
“I promise.” I clasp hands with Stella across the table. My phone chirps, and I look down. “I’ve been summoned back upstairs. Guess our break is over.”
Stella and I exit the elevator and split off in opposite directions. I head toward Jack’s office and stumble across Eaton as he’s leaving.
“Ah. Miss Mitchell. Welcome back. Enjoy your little break?” His megawatt smile does nothing for me and only irritates Jack, who’s presently standing behind him.
“Stop flirting with my assistant and work on what we discussed.” Eaton winks at me as he strolls to the lift..
“Come with me, please, Miss Mitchell.” Jack returns to his office, and I grab my steno pad and follow him. “I want you to book a cabin in Aspen for two weeks. I want you to schedule a meeting with Marcus at his earliest convenience. I also need all the prep files and any possible research brought to Aspen. I don’t want to lose this contract because of our negligence. Call my valet and have him pack my bags. Make sure you pack warmly—if you require additional winter wear, please call Saks and have it charged to my account.”
My pen stutters across the page. “Additional winter wear? Why would I need additional winter wear for you to go to Aspen?”
“Because you are going too.” His tone suggests the answer should be obvious.
“What do you mean I’m going too ?”
“Miss Mitchell, you have been an integral part of this endeavor. For you to not be there, should something arise, would be nothing short of gross negligence of the highest order. Now, pack your bags. We’re going to Aspen.”