Page 76 of Receiving His Mercy
“Sorry, Uncle Oliver,” Isabel said quietly.
Uncle Oliver?
“No, no. I’m sorry.” He waved his hand with a tired smile. “No need for me to snap like that. Come in, Caren. Isabel can you bring in coffee please?”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Uncle Oliver?” she asked as she followed him to his office. She wasn’t sure why he’d sent poor Isabel to wait for her when she knew the way from the elevator to his office.
“Ah, yeah, my brother’s kid.”
“I didn’t know you even had a brother.”
“He died a long time ago. Isabel lived with my mother since her mother ran off when Isabel was a baby. She graduated high school at the end of last year but doesn’t know what she wants to do. And she needed a job.”
That was sweet that he’d hired his niece. And not what she usually expected from Oliver. He tended to be cut-throat when it came to business.
“Right, please sit.” Oliver directed her to a comfortable-looking sofa and sat across from her in a chair.
Caren slid off her coat and then sat.
Oliver eyed her clothing but knew better than to say anything. He knew that she toned everything down while on assignment. And he had no say in anything she wore.
“Are you all set for the exhibition?” he asked without preamble. That was Oliver. He didn’t really care for pleasantries. Or for small talk.
“I think so. I’m meeting again with Gemma, who is managing it all, at the start of next week to check everything is all good.”
“Good, good. All of the invitations were snapped up. This is going to be a big night. Do you, uh, have your hair and make-up booked in? A dress?” He eyed her outfit again.
She had to bite back a smile as Isabel walked in. “Don’t worry. I found this gorgeous velvet and lace dress. It looks like something from the eighteen-hundreds except it’s a bright neon orange.”
“You’re . . . you’re joking,” he spluttered out.
“Of course she is, Uncle Oliver,” Isabel told him as she placed a plate of cookies on the coffee table.
Yum. Snickerdoodles. She loved snickerdoodles.
“You are?” he asked Caren.
“Sure am. Don’t worry, I’ll dress the way everyone else is. Boring.”
Isabel let out a small giggle and Oliver sighed. “Great. That’s good. Ahh, you can leave now.”
“Thanks, Isabel,” Caren said with a smile.
“Yes, yes, thanks.” He leaned forward once they were alone. “There’s some stuff brewing in the Middle East. I’ve got a number of people contacting me, asking if you’re going out there.”
She knew he’d bring this up. And she probably should have been more prepared. “I don’t know.”
“It’s nowhere near thehim, Caren. And, I’ve got to be frank, you really need to be out there. You can’t hide away in the states forever. My contacts will move on to other photographers. Ones who aren’t afraid to put themselves out there to get these photos. They want you because at the moment you’re the best. But you won’t always be.”
Ouch.
Oliver always did know how to throw a good punch.
“I know I’m being harsh, but it’s only because I’m worried about you.”
He was also concerned about his commission. That was probably being a bit harsh, but it was also true. Oliver wasn’t her friend. He was her agent. And if she wasn’t earning him money, well, he’d move onto someone else.
