The phones stopped ringing over an hour ago, and Iris busied herself with a fresh stack of urgent invoices, while time crept by like a melting glacier in the vacant office. No one else had come in to help run the phones, so she spent the lonely weekend toiling away at launch invoices. The work was tedious and taxing, requiring a great deal of concentration and client knowledge to properly process.
It was important, necessary work, but Iris couldn’t help but resent how much there was still left to do. Frown lines deepened on her pale face as she silently bemoaned the torturous sluggishness of her pace. Despite the slow progress, she had moments of clarity and had noticed a pattern of repeated data that she couldn’t place, which tickled her memory and refused to be ignored. If only Iris could remember where she’d seen those numbers before…
Iris cursed herself for being so slow with these files and allowed her mind to linger too long on her shortcomings as an office worker. Her pace, faulty memory, and lack of confidence weighed heavily on Iris’s shoulders, threatening to crush her spirits. Another mind-numbing invoice filled her thoughts so much that Iris failed to notice Mr. Cavendish’s casual approach.
“Looks complicated.” Cavendish commented, having watched Iris stare intently at an order form for some time without moving. “Need a hand?”
“Oh, Mr. Cavendish!” Iris jolted back to reality, nearly tossing her papers in surprise. “I didn’t hear you come in. Wait, why are you here, sir? Are you feeling well enough to come in?”
“Yes, fully recovered, thank you.” Mr. Cavendish’s smile remained, as if he were genuinely happy to see her. “Mr. Salvatore is off this evening, so I came by to pick you up instead. Is that all right?”
“H-he didn’t mention that when he dropped me off this morning.” Iris turned to face him. “Is he in trouble?”
“Not at all.” He tugged at a nearby task chair and perched attentively on its padded seat. “I gave him the time off and wanted to check on the office. I also wanted to thank you for returning my things.”
“You’re welcome, sir.” Iris tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and began gathering the disheveled paperwork. “Let me get this cleaned up and arranged for tomorrow. Then we can head out. It should only take a minute.”
“How many hours have you worked this past weekend and today?” Alden asked.
“About twenty-two, if my math is right.” Iris fumbled with a sticky note on her desk to add up each day's hours. “Just shy of twenty-two, sir.”
“Well, how about this?” Alden reached over with a stylish blue fountain pen and added a “+2” to the total. “You have a voucher for twenty-four hours, so let’s do a couple more here, together, then stop for the day. You won’t have to come in tomorrow for phones at all.”
“Then who will take the incoming messages?”
Alden smirked and picked up the office phone at Iris’s workstation. He dialed a string of numbers, navigated to the appropriate menu option, and began making a voice recording.
“Hello, and thank you for calling Gabriel, Cavendish & Sparks.” Alden’s voice resonated with an “official” sounding tone. “In honor of the Fourth of July holiday, our offices will be closed, with services resuming Wednesday, from nine a.m. to six p.m.”
Alden hung up his receiver and gestured for Iris to try calling the company help line on her cellphone. Sure enough, Mr. Cavendish’s voice came through with crystal clarity, reciting the same message Iris had heard before. She smiled as she hung up on the call, as Mr. Cavendish maneuvered his task chair closer. The wheels creaked as he sidled next to Iris to decipher her paperwork.
“Wow, this must have taken ages to do.” Cavendish pored over the half ream of printed papers, flipping through to find approvals and signatures where they needed to be. “If I may ask, why are you doing all these by hand?”
“I don’t have clearance to use the firm’s software.” Iris confessed. “I’m just an Office Specialist. This kind of thing is above my pay band…”
Mr. Cavendish paused his page flipping and shot a side-eyed glance at Iris. That was such a corporate way to say that she wasn’t allowed to use the software. His best guess was that Warren had informed her about it in such terms, and Iris simply parroted back what she’d been told. In effect, Warren had loaned her many of his responsibilities, yet afforded none of the authority that came with them. This made an already difficult job much more challenging with a lack of proper tools, which annoyed Mr. Cavendish to no end.
“Here, let me see your laptop.” Mr. Cavendish gestured. He accessed the administrator account with his own credentials and installed a new program on her machine before sliding the laptop back to Iris with a satisfied smirk. “There you go. You should have access now. The login is the same as your current info, but you should update your password, just to be safe, okay?”
“Th-thank you.” Iris grazed her frigid hand against his while pulling the laptop closer to see what Mr. Cavendish had done. The gesture sent a jolt of electricity through his arm. “This version looks different from the one I saw during orientation.”
“We have some time left on your voucher.” Mr. Cavendish tilted his head and smiled. “Do you want me to guide you through an order, start-to-finish?”
Iris nodded and began following Mr. Cavendish’s directions to complete an order for two hundred twenty-eight of their premium launch product packages to a supplier out west. Instead of taking the lead and having her watch, like Warren would have, Mr. Cavendish guided patiently beside Iris, offering advice and corrections as needed. He had a kindly, patient voice that made Iris feel at ease, to the point where she had forgotten to be fearful of him.
“There, that’s it. Well done.” Mr. Cavendish praised the completed order that Iris prepared with minimal interference. “I’m confident we’re ready to turn you loose on these orders now. It will be much faster than how you’ve had to do them so far.”
Iris smiled and allowed her cheeks to redden with his approval. She hadn’t expected a compliment or acknowledgment for her work, so it was a pleasant surprise to hear kind words from the supposedly cold Mr. Cavendish. Iris couldn’t help but wonder if Warren had confused Alden for his mother, Barbara, who was significantly harder to work with, in her limited experience.
“It’s getting late.” Mr. Cavendish remarked as he observed the sun making way for the evening’s festivities. “And I’m starving. Do you mind if we pick something up before I take you home?”
“Sure, if you’re hungry, I don’t mind stopping.” Iris agreed and began packing up her belongings. “If you don’t mind my company.”
“Not at all. I’m in no hurry.”
Mr. Cavendish waited patiently for Iris to tidy her workspace and the pair departed for the parking garage. Once they arrived, Iris peered outside the elevator before stepping out, and only started for the familiar sedan after she’d confirmed that the garage was empty.
We haven’t been able to find that strange man she mentioned. Cavendish frowned. And I still need to arrange for those cameras to be installed…
“Do you have somewhere in mind for food?” Iris buckled in and stared out the passenger window to enjoy the feast of city lights as they pulled out of the garage. “I’m not sure what would be open on a holiday.”
Mr. Cavendish remained silent and kept his eyes on the road ahead with a knowing smile. He’d noticed several times before that Iris had avoided going out for meals or spending money on herself but was eager to ensure that others had food. Though he could certainly eat, it was the sound of Iris’s hunger that caused him the most concern. Iris didn’t appear to notice it herself, which gave him pause.
“I know a place that’s open, but we should hurry if we want to get you home at a decent hour.” Cavendish took the outbound exit to avoid downtown traffic. “It’s a little outta the way, but they have great food. Do you like Italian?”
“Yes, but I haven’t had any in years.” Iris admitted before she rummaged through her pockets to search for money. Finding nothing but a small handful of change, she forced a taught, pained smile. “Besides, it matters more if you like it, if we’re stopping there for you to get food.”
“What’s your favorite Italian dish?” Cavendish hid a smirk as he pulled into the parking lot of Giardino, a modest Italian restaurant with ivy-covered brick walls and an ornate vegetable garden out back. “I’m a fan of chicken parmesan, myself.”
“Baked ziti with chicken and mushrooms.” Iris answered politely as she tried to keep the conversation going.
Mr. Cavendish got out of the car first and met an excited man who was waiting by the door. The greeter gave him a big bear hug and started speaking in a flurry of words that she guessed was Italian. To her surprise, Mr. Cavendish replied fluently. After a brief exchange, they parted ways, with the greeter making a dash indoors and Cavendish strolling to the passenger side to speak with Iris. She rolled down the window at his approach.
“Come on, Matteo’s setting up a table for us out back, in the garden.”
“Oh, am I joining you?” Iris asked while steadying herself against the passenger door. “I thought you were just picking something up.”
His smile weakened, and it distressed Iris to see it vanish at her question. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might have misunderstood or refused his invitation. His mouth went dry, and words failed him as Iris watched Mr. Cavendish struggle with disappointment. Before he could form a reply, Iris crept out of the car and stood beside Mr. Cavendish.
“Which way do we go? Oh.” Iris peered around to find a pathway which circled the restaurant. She beckoned back to him as she jaunted down the stony path and underneath a vine-covered, wooden pergola. “This way, sir. Come on.”
The garden was thick with summer fruits and vegetables, filling the hot evening air with their aromatic wonders. Iris smiled wistfully at the beautiful cages and raised beds of the well-kept oasis, which reminded her strongly of Amaranth’s treasured greenhouse from long ago. Mr. Cavendish followed her on a brief tour of the lavish gardens, and she named off even the most exotic of blooms and crops with ease. A picnic table with their favorite foods awaited them by the time they had finished exploring.
“What’s this?” Iris asked.
“Baked ziti with chicken and mushrooms.” Mr. Cavendish replied with a warm smile. “I asked Matteo to put an order in for you. Will that work?”
“I… can’t eat this.” Iris shied away and averted her eyes. The surprise from seeing the unexpected meal created an uncomfortable tightness in her shoulders and chest. “I can’t afford it, sir.”
“Please… It’s my treat.” Cavendish insisted before offering her a glass of water to go with it. “Just think of it as my thanks for working over the holidays. And to be honest, I could really use the company…”
Comments (5)
See all