Page 11 of Hayes

Hillary slid forward, her hands clasped in her lap, her expression earnest. “Don’t you see you are hesitating? Dearest, this woman—Camelia came back in town, and you seem to be falling under her spell again. She twisted you around her little finger. She controlled you so much that your world revolved around her–”

“Enough!” His hand slammed down on the desk hard enough to make the paperweight and pens dance. “I agreed to meet with her for the good of the company. I liked the piece she wrote about the gallery.

Taking over Southern Airlines has some ramifications. The former owners have a difficult time letting go of the reins, and there are rumors that we fired some longtime employees without proper notice. We need to get in front of this.”

“Surely there are newspapers, respectable ones–”

“Their readership is through the roof, especially since Camelia became the editor.” He glanced at his laptop. “Now, if you would excuse me, I must take care of this. “

She knew when she was being dismissed. She also knew that nothing she said at that point was not going to make a difference. Sweeping out of the room, she closed the doors behind her.

Leaning back in the chair, he stared broodingly at the closed doors; he rolled the paperweight between his palms. The words she had spoken had haunted his night and made him unable to sleep.

She had not loved him, not the way he had loved her. He had given her his heart, laid it at her feet ,and she had trampled on it. It was life—it had happened, and it was over. He would do this interview and hopefully be done with her.

*****

Camelia had been to the corporate office before. Several times during the summer when Hayes had been interning, he had insisted on her going with him. Being back here brought poignant memories rushing back.

Parking in the underground garage, she sat there and nodded as the security came rushing forward. “Ms. DeWinter, you are to go straight up. Take the elevator to the left, and it will take you straight to Mr. Marsden’s office.”

“Thank you.” He was not someone she had seen before, and she suspected that most of them had retired or moved on.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped out. Most of the garage had open spaces, indicating that several staff members had already left for the day.

The elevator was of the transparent type and whizzed her up to the top floor with a swiftness that left her feeling slightly dizzy.

The reception area was empty, the chrome and ash gray area eerily deserted. The name of the company was sterling silver with an overlay of blue that had a stunning effect. The lush carpet had her feet sinking to the ankles.

Taking another breath, she pushed the door open that had Gretchen Mitchell – Assistant stenciled in gold. The office was three times the size of hers, the desk with the latest model desktop, impeccably arranged and very tidy.

The doors to his office were open and she could see him seated around a massive baronial desk. Taking the opportunity to study, she noticed that he had shed his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shell pink shirt to his elbows and had his head bent over a folder.

She stiffened as he lifted his head as if sensing her presence.

Shoving her tote onto her shoulders, she made her way in, enduring the hooded green of his gaze.

He watched her in silence as she took a seat in front of his desk. The silence stretched between them and had her nerves screaming in protest. “Your office is lovely. It was originally your dad’s?”

“Yes," he clipped.

“I recalled it being a different color. You made some changes. It’s lovely, and the view is stunning,” she rushed on, trying to fill the silence.

“Are you finished?” His deep voice was cool and devoid of emotions. “Do you perhaps want to comment on the painting above the mantle—it’s a recent acquisition and there is a table in the corner of the room, that’s new too.”

“I was just–”

“Trying to pretend that we are acquaintances, that we do not have a very lurid and painful past?” He inclined his head mockingly. “I suggest you get on with the interview and stick to the salient points.”

“You are right, of course.” Summoning up the courage that had served her well in the past, she took her recorder out of the tote and a pad and pencil.

“Recorder on.” Looking him square in the eyes, she began. She had a special way of doing things. First, she would chat and wait until they were at ease before diving into the questions and allowing them to speak freely.

But Hayes was not just anyone, and the animosity emanating from him was so real, so tangible, that it was making her feel on edge. She asked about Southern Airlines and the plans for the restructuring. His answers were clipped and to the point, giving her no room for friendly comments.

“There are rumors flying around that the takeover was a hostile one. They say that you forced key people holding upper management positions from their offices. What do you have to say to that?”

A sardonic smile touched his lips. "You, above all people, know the damage a rumor circulating can be, and that's all it is—rumors. People were not ‘forced’ out of their positions as you put it. The airline was top-heavy, the board taking advantage of the perks of their positions and abusing their powers.

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