Alone in Mr. Maker's office, Iris snapped into action, frantically trying to re-order the disarray Mrs. Maker had left behind. Piper was clearly looking for something, hastily tossing papers and rummaging through drawers in the desk. Stacks of documents and a handful of USB thumb drives were askew on the desktop. She had rifled through every drawer but one, a locked full-size file drawer on the bottom left side of the desk. Not even Iris had a key to open it, so Piper had no hope of looking inside.
Iris managed to stack and arrange things as best as she could before she overheard the thumping of familiar footfalls outside the office door. Most everything slid easily into the top-most drawer, leaving only a few items left to arrange. She scooped up an empty manila folder, the smallest of the USB drives, and the glass of lemon water just as Warren opened the door.
“Hey, what are you doing in here?” Warren asked at first with surprise, which morphed into suspicion. “Can I help you with something?”
“Mrs. Maker is here to see you.” Iris managed to relay to him through her subtle yet incessant trembling. “She’s with Mr. Cavendish in his office presently. I got her some lemon water, sir. Shall I take it to her?”
“Hang on a minute.” Warren blocked Iris from fleeing with an outstretched arm. “What were you doing in here?”
Warren stared at Iris like a shark circling prey, with cold, calculating eyes and a keen, hateful grimace. Iris nearly fainted from fright but managed to steel herself and prepare an honest reply.
“She came into your office and started rummaging around while I was fetching her a drink, sir.” Iris admitted, feeling the thumb drive heat up in her clammy palm. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep her out, as I don’t have a key…”
“Did you see… Never mind.” Warren dismissed an errant thought and reached absentmindedly into his cigarette pocket for nonexistent relief. “No use fretting over it now. Go on out and fetch my wife if you would, please. And bring me something sweet on your way back. Doughnut, coffee, I don’t care.”
Iris made a hasty retreat, barreling into the corridor that connected to the C-suite of offices on the other side of the building. She walked briskly past Violet, who openly sneered at her as she sped away. Violet was well known for her nasty temper and disdain for anyone she deemed “lesser” than herself, and Iris was almost sure that Violet would stoop to tripping her or pushing her down if she had the chance. Iris resolved to stay out of her strike radius in the future.
While physical harm had its own deterrent, Iris was more worried about the verbal lashings she would surely receive from both Mr. and Mrs. Maker. They had only met once before, but Piper Maker left a welt of an impression on Iris after that single meeting. It was at the winter holiday party two years ago, when she made a scene after getting drunk on tainted party punch and mixed drinks. The drunken meanness of her stripped away any friendly façade Mrs. Maker had. Shrewish and demanding, Piper relished nothing more than stirring up drama and watching the underlings scramble for their livelihoods and sanity.
Iris shuddered before approaching Mr. Cavendish’s office to knock on his opulent door. Her knuckle grazed its cold surface, and she stopped dead just before knocking, after hearing the familiar voices within. She reasoned that it would probably be better to wait for a natural pause before interrupting them, as that might help her avoid being scolded more. Iris listened for an opportunity to announce herself, though she soon wished she hadn’t.
“Homely little thing, isn’t she?” Piper crowed from her perch on the Italian leather sectional. “Just skin and bones too. Such a shame.” Piper clicked sarcastically pitiable noises. “I guess that’s what you get for chasing off a competent woman, or what-have-you.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Mr. Cavendish leaned back in his task chair and crossed one leg over the other to relax. “Who are you talking about?”
“Warren’s new girl, Ethel, or whatever.” Piper brushed non-existent dust from the immaculate leather. “Rather dim, isn’t she? Whatever happened to Dorothy? She was a competent girl, at least from what I remember.”
Iris stood just outside the door and slowly deflated. Sure, she wasn’t the smartest or the most glamorous woman in the office, but it was still hard to hear a dressing down like that from some stuck-up, snobby twit.
“No idea.” Cavendish deflected. “And the new specialist’s name is Iris, not Ethel. She’s been immensely helpful around the office recently. I’ll wager that’s why Warren picked her to replace Dorothy.”
A gentle knock on the door alerted them both to her presence immediately. Mr. Cavendish bade her to come in, and Iris hovered by the doorway with the still-frigid glass of iced lemon water in her hands.
“Mrs. Maker? Mr. Maker has returned and is requesting your presence in his office, ma’am. Shall I escort you there?”
“I know the way, dear.” Piper delicately stood up from the sectional and the fine leather creaked a sigh of relief at her departure. “No need to tag along.”
Mr. Cavendish motioned for Iris to join him near his desk to avoid getting in Piper’s way as she left. Piper still managed to give Iris a silent, disapproving appraisal as she flicked her hand back in an insincere gesture of farewell. Mr. Cavendish paused until the rhythmic clicking of Piper's expensive shoes receded into the distance before he started speaking.
“You might want to hang out here for a few minutes,” he advised. “She’s not in a charitable mood, and I imagine you’ll be better off here until all the dust settles.”
Iris spied the opened box of expensive coffee Mr. Cavendish had ordered on his small round meeting table and strode over to examine its contents. Alden smirked at Iris, who assessed one of the bag’s vents for freshness with a deep inhalation.
“Well, since I have a few minutes, sir, how about it?” Iris pulled out a large bag with a metallic green label on it. “This is one of my favorites. Care to try some?”
Mr. Cavendish watched patiently as Iris brewed two single mugs of piping-hot, luscious peppermint flavored coffee with mint drizzle. She had a tough time opening the complementary flavoring syrup bottle, so Mr. Cavendish stepped in with a pair of scissors to cut off the tip of the squeeze bottle. The sound of percolating coffee bought him a few moments to sort out how to bring up Mrs. Maker’s comments. Iris beat him to it, however, after choking in the silence for long enough.
“You don’t have to worry about it, sir.” Iris forced a smile as she handed him a steaming gray mug. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard already.”
“She’s wrong, you know.” Mr. Cavendish inhaled the sweet, wintery scent wafting from his mug. “About all of it. She just likes to stir the pot. Some folks are like that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everyone’s been so on edge with the launch next week. I imagine Warren’s been taking his work troubles home with him.” Mr. Cavendish theorized aloud while stirring the mint drizzle into the coffee. “I realize that’s no excuse for… I’m saying that you managed the whole ordeal well.”
Iris grinned politely at his assertion, though she didn’t quite believe it herself. If only she had been able to keep Piper out of his office. Should she ask Mr. Maker for a key? Was there anything else she could have done instead of what had happened?
“Not for nothing, either. If I had to put money on it, I’ll bet Warren didn’t give you much training for this new role at all, did he?” Cavendish continued. “I’ll have another chat with Warren and—”
“Please, don’t.” Iris begged, setting her finished mug on the fancy marble coaster. “It’s fine, sir. There was no actual harm done anyway, aside from a few stacks of paperwork. I’d, uh, better get Mr. Maker his snack now. He asked me to fetch something sweet.”
Iris turned to leave, catching Mr. Cavendish’s distressed expression. His words had failed to cheer her up significantly, and he stewed in frustration with an empty mug in hand.
“Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Cavendish.” Iris popped her head back into the office before closing the door behind her. “I appreciate it.”
He gave Iris a weak smile as she departed again, then stared into the empty mug, and sighed.
I can’t do anything against Piper, and Iris asked me not to intervene, but… She looked so defeated when she said it…
Iris made her way through the cubicle maze to the kitchenette for a sweet treat for Warren. She managed to find a sticky bun for him and a granola bar for herself from the vending machine, meandering back to his office as fast as she could. Iris arrived just as a crying Piper slammed the door shut and made a dash for the elevators. The plate with the fresh sticky bun slid gently on Iris’s desktop as she dropped it off to pursue Mrs. Maker.
“Ma’am? Is everything all right?” Iris asked while trying to catch her breath. She produced a small packet of facial tissues from her cardigan pocket. “Here, please take these.”
She reached out with the tissues for Piper to take and tented her brows in concern. No matter what cruel or miserable things Piper had said about her, Iris couldn’t abandon someone in tears. Piper reached out a tentative hand and grasped the offering from Iris. The elevator arrived and Piper stepped on and turned around to face Iris without a word, pressed the elevator button to head down to the parking garage, and vanished behind the closing doors.
Trailing glances from the office meerkats followed Iris back to her desk. She had apparently missed something noteworthy but had no idea what could have happened in the brief minutes of her absence. Iris grasped the ceramic plate with the sticky bun and knocked on Warren’s door.
“Yes? What is it?” Mr. Maker snapped.
“I brought this for you, sir.” Iris laid the plate on Warren’s desk blotter and noticed him rubbing his cheek in pain. “Are you okay, sir?”
“Fine, fine.” Warren muttered. “Just get me some pain meds from the first aid kit, will you?”
It didn’t require Curtis’s detective hat to deduce what had happened. The only question was, why did Mrs. Maker slap him hard enough to leave such an impression? It must have something to do with whatever Piper was looking for in his office, but Iris wasn’t confident enough to press Warren for answers. Instead, she silently left Warren alone to retrieve some medicine for his pain.
Once Iris departed, Warren resumed the arduous process of tracking down everything on his desk. No papers were missing, and she didn’t disturb his locked drawer. The only thing absent was one of his small black thumb drives that was sitting by his USB hub. He searched high and low for the missing drive, but to no avail.
“Piper…” Warren growled hatefully.
He had no way of knowing that the missing drive was tucked away haphazardly in Iris’s cardigan pocket, nor did he deign to even ask her about it.
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