Page 20 of Hale Yes
“Ah, a woman of refined taste,” Calvin booms. “Hire her immediately.”
Abigail shoves his shoulder. “Go on, you big goofus. And thank you for picking up Dr. Bell.”
“You’re welcome to call me Nicolette,” I offer. Yes, I worked hard for my degrees, but I’m not one of those people who insists my colleagues call me doctor every time they address me.
Her already friendly smile warms by about twenty degrees. “Excellent, and you call me Abigail.” She gestures with a hand toward the mirrored glass front doors, and we begin walking. “I think you’ll fit in just fine here, Nicolette.”
I. Love. Hale. Cosmetics.
My interview went well—great, in fact—and we’ve just completed a tour of all three floors of the laboratory building.
Everything about this place is freaking fantastic, from the high-tech lab facilities to the people. The only drawback is the location. Due to the humidity in Houston, if my hair weren’t tamed into its customary bun, I’d be looking like a poodle right now.
But I can overlook the tragedy my tresses will be if I ever wear my hair down becausethe lab! It’s seriously one of the best I’ve ever seen. Judging by Dr. Helix Hale’s extremely formal tone in our email exchange, I’m guessing he’s a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, but the man does know how to organize and run a laboratory, so I can overlook that. It’s totally fine because I’m not looking for a friend, just a colleague that respects me and my work.
“I thought we’d grab a bite of lunch, and then I’ll introduce you to our CEO,” Abigail says.
My eyebrows shoot upward. She’s going to introduce me to Haywood Hale? I’m pretty sure the CEO of my current company, Aquarius Cosmetics, has no clue who I even am. I passed him in the hallway last month, and he called me Nelda.
“That sounds great,” I reply.
“Do you have any specific dietary requirements or allergies?” she asks.
“No, I pretty much eat anything.”
Abigail leads me out of the building where Calvin is waiting beside the fancy town car. “Great. We’ll go to Pappadeaux. It’s seafood with a Cajun flair, and their bread is to die for.”
The drive to the restaurant doesn’t take long, and we arrive at a brick building with a wide patio that’s surrounded by a short, black, iron fence. When I suggest Calvin join us for lunch, he declines, citing his seafood allergy.
“We could have eaten somewhere else so your brother could have come,” I tell Abigail once we’re seated on the patio. It’s June, but the fans and the shade keep the Houston heat under control.
“He’s fine. He usually has lunch on Fridays with a couple of his old Army buddies at a burger restaurant.”
I smile. “He looks like a former military guy.”
“He was on the boxing team in the Army before he suffered a retinal tear. The docs repaired it, but they told him he could potentially lose his eyesight if he gets hit in that eye again.”
My forehead furrows with a wince. “Ouch. At least he listened to the doctors’ advice.”
Abigail shakes her head and smirks. “The stubborn fool would have kept right on fighting, but his superiors put a stop to it.” She greets our server warmly when she approaches and sets a basket of bread and whipped butter between us. “Thank you, Candice.”
We order our food and drinks. I’m tempted to get a mixed drink but decide against it since I’m technically still on an interview, so I get the same thing my lunch partner gets… sweet iced tea. When in Rome and all that.
“Do you like working at Hale?” I ask Abigail, and her smile is nothing short of beaming when she replies.
“I love it. I’d stay here forever, but my daughter is expecting her first baby soon. Childcare costs are insane, so I decided to retire and focus on being the coolest babysitting grandma ever.” She leans slightly across the table and lowers her voice. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Nicolette?”
“Not at all.” Candice drops off our drinks and I take a sip. It’s not bad. A little sweet, but I think I could get used to it. “Ask me anything.”
“Why do you want to leave Aquarius?”
Ugh. This is a difficult question. It’s bad form to badmouth your employer while on a job interview, but I also want to be honest, so I choose my words carefully.
“I’m looking for a change in leadership.”
Her lips twitch at the corners as she reads my meaning without me having to spell it out. “Who is the director of your current lab? I know Dr. Tate retired last year.”
And that’s when my discontent began. I’d hoped to get Thomas Tate’s position when he retired, but I was passed over for the promotion.
