I didn’t know why particularly, but I guessed Fiona had made some sort of wonderful impression of herself since she resumed work.
“What?” Her lashes fluttered.
I turned to face her again. Her nicely-shaped brows had carved into an arc of their own will, and she looked quite puzzled.
“Do you want to do anything?”
“Well, I think I might be hungry.” She said, letting out a sheepish laugh.
I chuckled, fascinated.
“Let’s have lunch then.”
“Hm.” She nodded, and then I led the way back to my office.
She ate her food in silence, and I was forced to accommodate the notion that she might be bothered by something.
“No,” she disputed.
“What then is it?”
“Well,” she breathed and paused for a considerable time.
“It’s nothing.” That was what she finally said.
I just couldn’t take that, but I didn’t want to press it further, so it ended there.
Before she returned to her desk, I asked for her opinions about the Company’s Anniversary Celebrations coming up in about two months.
“What can I possibly say to such an exclusive affair?” She said with a sense of humility I had hardly ever seen in anyone before.
“Well, I’m asking you now, as your boss.”
“Could you also ask the entire staff of the company? Questions about what they expect and feel should be included in the Anniversary Celebrations as individuals.” She responded.
“Is that your opinion?” I wondered.
She slowly nodded.
I was impressed.
“I’d make you CEO for a day one of these days.” I expressed.
She slightly chuckled.
“I’m afraid I’m not so capable. You are so good at everything.” She said.
“No, I’m not.”
She made a face.
“You are way better at art than I am.”
“Art?”
“And many other things I don’t know, but I’m sure of.”
She chuckled again.
“I don’t think so.”
“I do not agree, too.” I let her know.
“I can’t possibly beat you at golf.” She quickly added as if suddenly remembering.
“You may not, but you surely have a flair for it,” I commented.
She smiled just as someone knocked on the door. She immediately sprang to her feet and quickly began packing the takeouts.
Mason walked in, glaring at her with a suspicious eye. She bobbed out of the office and quietly shut the door behind her.
It was rather unusual of her, but I concluded she must have been uncomfortable with Mason. I had noticed the two didn’t really get along.
“Do you have a problem with my personal assistant?” I queried Mason when I had seen Fiona settle in her desk through the conspicuous door.
“No,” Mason denied and wouldn’t say more than that.
Gazing out of my office, I saw how Fiona fidgeted on her chair. She seemed somewhat more restless than usual, spurring an indeterminate feeling within me.
