Chapter 1 Whitney #2
“You take care of yourself, dear. I know Vance would want you to be happy. I do too.” I smile at the kind, old woman and again give her my regards.
She is going to be moving down south, where their actual children live, so I likely won’t be seeing her anymore after this, though I hope we’ll stay in touch a little bit.
I was much closer to Mr. Peterson than I was to her, so I wasn’t surprised when she told me she’d be leaving town.
She has no interest in taking over Mr. Peterson’s business, rather, desires to spend the rest of her time with her family. I can’t blame her.
After one more hug, I let go of her and walk out of the church and into the new world, of which Mr. Peterson is no longer a part of.
It stings, knowing that he won’t be around to celebrate when I finally get engaged, or to walk me down the aisle at my wedding.
He won’t be there to cuddle my first baby.
I won’t get to see him look at them with so much love in his eyes that it makes his eyes water.
And all of these realizations hurt, like a thousand knives cutting me deep to the bone.
All this time, he’s encouraged me to chase my dreams, and now, he won’t even be around to see me finally achieve them.
As I walk to my car, one stray tear streaks down my face and I swipe it away, taking a deep breath and swallowing down the anger and sadness threatening to bubble up from inside of me.
On a whim, I decide I need a little pick me up.
My favorite coffee shop, Uncommon Grounds, isn’t too far from here.
My best friend, Leila, and I are frequent fliers there and know the entire staff by name.
It opened up last year, and it quickly turned into the prime hangout spot when we are both off work, which is seldom, considering we both live busy lives.
When I’m a block away from the coffee shop, the sky opens up, unleashing a torrent of rain down onto my little car.
My windshield wipers work furiously to clear my vision.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I find a parking spot, which is quickly replaced by a grumble of frustration when I can’t locate the umbrella I typically keep in the glove compartment.
Deciding to make a run for it, I hurry out of my car and sprint to the door, satisfied that I only end up mostly soaked to the bone. Right away, I feel the warmth from the small shop surround me.
Uncommon Grounds is such a quaint, little space. The shop itself isn’t that large. In fact, it is relatively small compared to other places. It has an electric, stone fireplace on one side, surrounded by comfy leather sofas and little tables spread throughout the area.
Upon first walking in, guests are immediately greeted with the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods, like their infamous blueberry scones or the café’s signature brew.
The spectacular essence that the shop gives off never ceases to amaze me.
The comfortable leather of the couches is always inviting.
I rarely ever pass it up when I’m in the mood for something warm and cozy.
Sometimes, I even come here after work hours to do some last-minute work for Mr. Peterson.
I wonder if my new boss will require me to put in extra, off-the-clock hours like Mr. Peterson did.
Not that I minded; he always was grateful for any extra work I did on the side which made it worthwhile for me.
And besides that, I do enjoy my job. There is something so satisfying about working with a powerful CEO and assisting in tasks to help further the company into new and exciting ventures.
Though I don’t hold an executive position, exactly, with Mr. Peterson, I was still a valued member of the executive team.
He respected my opinions just as much as anyone else, and he was always open to anything I’d suggest.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to prove that to the new CEO as well.
I walk up to the register and order my favorite seasonal drink, a pumpkin-spiced latte. They make it quickly, and soon, I’m settling into my favorite two-seater booth next to the fireplace and the window.
The rain is still falling heavily outside, and I take a sip of my drink, watching it fall to the ground. This is exactly what I needed.
The last few days have been high stress, as we finalized all the details for Mr. Peterson’s funeral.
Mrs. Peterson helped where she could, but a lot of the responsibilities had fallen onto me.
I was happy to help her through this, but now, I am feeling the effects weigh heavily on my shoulders.
My muscles ache and I feel like I can barely keep my head up.
It is strange being forced to say goodbye to one phase of my life and immediately get thrust into the next one.
Come Monday, I’ll have a new boss, new expectations, and essentially, a new job.
Nerves bloom in my belly, and I feel on edge about the whole change.
I don’t have any idea of what I will be walking into on Monday morning, and I hate to feel unprepared.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and once I’m settled in my booth, I pull out my phone and open up the search browser.
I type the name, Theodore Hurst—exactly as it was spelled in the company-wide announcement email from our Board of Directors yesterday—into the search box and click the go button.
After it takes a few seconds to load, pictures and articles come up about the man who I’ll soon be working for.
My mouth goes dry as soon as I see his face for the first time, and I reach for my coffee to take a sip.
It’s a photo from what looks to be a gala.
He’s looking away from the camera at something else, but his face is lit up in a broad smile, which makes his dark eyes glitter, even through the stationary image.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He can’t be more than ten years older than I am, which is nearly unheard of for someone maintaining a CEO position.
Right next to the first few photos of him is a headline: Theodore Hurst named next CEO of powerhouse commercial realtor, Nexus Realty Group.
The realization that I’m going to be working for this man in a matter of days suddenly hits me, and a slight sense of unease settles in my chest. I wonder what he’s like as a boss. Obviously, he must be a very driven person to have become so successful at such a young age.
I click on the webpage for his old company and pull up his details, itching to know more about him.
Another, more professional headshot appears on the screen, and I find myself staring at it for far too long. His face is almost too perfect, void of any type of blemish or flaw, and I wonder if they retouched the photo to make him appear more handsome than he actually is.
I drop my phone on the table and lean back in the booth, taking a second to fully process this. My best friend, Leila, is going to have a field day when she finds out that I’ll be working for such an attractive man.
She’s the epitome of a romanticist, always looking for the next epic love story. I have no doubt she’d jump on the prospect of this one. Not that I can really point fingers on the matter, either. I, too, desperately yearn for someone to love and call my own.
I read over Theodore Hurst’s mini biography. I learn that he’s thirty-six, and graduated from an Ivy League with degrees in business and leadership. He has worked for his previous company in Britain for the last four years.
The webpage goes on to describe his accolades and how he is well respected amongst his peers. The more I read, the more I wonder if this guy is even human or if he’s an industry-made, professional business mogul.
I click around his website a little more, trying to get as much information on him as I possibly can. Unfortunately, aside from a few of his awards and general information, I don’t find much else about him.
When I go to the contact page, I notice his assistant’s email address.
I copy it down in my phone’s notepad and make a reminder to shoot them an email when I’m back home at my computer.
Maybe they will be able to give me a little more information about what Mr. Hurst is like.
I strive to be the best that I can be. Maybe if I make a great first impression, he won’t treat me just like any other assistant, and he will recognize that I add value to the position too.
Once I’m done with my coffee, I decide that’s enough sleuthing for today. I toss the empty cup in the trash and make sure I have all of my items before walking out.
As I leave the coffee shop to head towards home, I do a quick run-through of everything I’ll need to do when I get there and over the next few days.
Come Monday, we’ll be welcoming our new boss.
I’m a little on edge about that fact, simply because I feel like I’m walking into the unknown.
Though it may be irrational, there’s always the fear that with a change of leadership comes the change of staff.
And I can’t imagine what I’d do if I lost this job.
I don’t know who Whitney Palmer is outside of this position.
I’m on my own now, and that’s a scary thought.
I’ll do everything I can to make sure that this new office is perfect for him. In this scenario, I fear that first impressions will mean everything, and I’ll do whatever it takes to come out on top.