Marry in Haste

“Good morning, Abby.” Parker Laird’s deep voice sounded in her ears. “Please make the following schedule changes and have a revised copy on my desk as soon as possible.”

As Abby listened to the instructions, she was dismayed to realize that Parker had made the tape this morning, prior to her early arrival.

Did the man never sleep?

Abby concentrated on Parker’s rapid-fire instructions. Although in deference to her inexperience, he frequently elaborated on what he wanted and who the members of various groups were, Abby had to rewind the tape countless times. She had a headache before eight o’clock. She also had several hours’ work ahead of her and hadn’t yet made a copy of the receptionist schedule.

But of course, she reminded herself, that’s why the Executive Assistant had a staff. She opened the door connecting Valerie’s office with Barbara and Nancy’s and stopped.

The office was empty. It was also ten past eight.

Her intercom buzzed. “Abby?”

Parker. Abby leaped to answer it. “Yes, Mr. Laird?”

“You didn’t leave a message, so I didn’t know if you were in or not.”

There hadn’t been anything on the tape about a message. “I’ve been here over an hour.”

“I wish I’d known. I’ve been waiting for you.”

There was no censure in his voice, yet even alone in the office, Abby’s face heated. “I’ll be right there.”

She fanned her face and started for Mr. Laird’s office, then stopped. With Nancy and Barbara not in yet, there was no one to answer the telephone. And Abby hadn’t had a chance to print out Mr. Laird’s revised schedule.

Scribbling some instructions on a sticky note, Abby stuck it right in the center of Barbara’s computer monitor, then hurried into Mr. Laird’s office.

What a horrible start to her tenure as his Executive Assistant.

Breathless, she arrived at the center of power without noticing the air, the carpet or the view.

But she did notice Parker Laird.

He stood clear on the other side of the room behind a long table covered with maps. Without looking at her, he beckoned her forward with the barest movement of his fingers.

Abby didn’t know whether she was supposed to join him at the table, or take the usual spot at the end of his desk. Valerie always seemed to know, but Abby couldn’t tell how. She hovered uncertainly by the desk.

Parker pulled a swing-arm lamp closer to the map. “Did you forget to tell me you were in this morning?”

“There weren’t any instructions to do so on the tape you left.”

He didn’t respond and Abby just stayed quiet. He still hadn’t looked at her. At last, he straightened, tapped the map with his finger, stared some more, then abruptly wheeled around and strode over to his desk. “From now on, when you arrive, leave a message on my voice mail.”

“Yes, Mr. Laird.” Abby made a note. This was a routine Valerie hadn’t told her about. She hoped the oversight wasn’t on purpose, but suspected it was.

“Do you have a copy of the revised schedule?” Parker Laird, all white shirt and French cuffs, sat at the desk and swiveled to face her.

“I was working on it when you called. I left instructions for Barbara to print out a copy.”

Parker looked down at his watch and then at her. “And that will be...?”

Abby swallowed, torn between defending herself by exposing Barbara and Nancy, thus completely alienating them, or taking the blame for not being organized this morning. “As soon as possible, Mr. Laird,” she bluffed and met his gaze, pen poised.

He continued to gaze at her, his expression attentively blank, as though waiting for her to grasp some concept. She had a horrible feeling that he wasn’t fooled at all.

“Do you have any further changes to the schedule before we print out a final copy?” she asked, mostly to sound efficient in spite of her inefficiency.

“There’s never a final copy,” he murmured. “Only a most recent copy.”

“Do you have any further changes to the schedule before we print out the most recent copy?” Abby amended as though she hadn’t previously spoken.

Parker Laird blinked. He was looking at her as though he was inwardly amused and teetering on the edge of a smile.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“No, thank you, Mr. Laird.”

He continued to gaze at her with the same expression.

“Oh!” Abby shot to her feet. “Coffee!” No, thank you, Mr. Laird. She cringed. “I—I’ll—”

He held up a hand. “Making coffee isn’t one of your responsibilities, but if you happen to be drinking a cup when I call for you, feel free to bring it with you.”

“Of course, Mr. Laird.” Abby was a tea drinker but couldn’t imagine ever being relaxed enough to drink in front of Parker Laird.

“In fact, should you want a cup, say, right now, you can get one when you bring the schedule.” He spoke in a measured tone with only the slightest emphasis on the last words.

Bring the schedule. Abby got the message. “Thank you, Mr. Laird.” Abby backed her way across the room. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Idiot, idiot, idiot, she chanted to herself as she raced back to her office.

Incredibly, neither Barbara nor Nancy had arrived. Abby sat at the computer, frantically opened the schedule file and typed in the changes, conscious of the passing minutes—conscious that the current fifteen minute block of time was allocated to “Phone Ian Douglass in Aberdeen” and not “Wait for Abby to type schedule.”

She was shouting, “Hurry!” at the laser printer when Barbara arrived, a cup from a gourmet coffee shop in her hand.

“A little frazzled this morning, are we?” she asked.

“Where have you been?” Abby snapped. She’d rehearsed various approaches at chastising Barbara and Nancy for their tardiness. This wasn’t one of them.

“Valerie told us to come in at eight-thirty this morning. She thought it would give you time to get organized.”

Abby yanked the pages from the printer output. “From now on, please come in at eight o’clock. Even earlier, if you can manage.” She was so angry, she could barely look at Barbara.

“I’ll try, but it depends on traffic and the school won’t let parents drop off their kids before seven-thirty.”

At that, Abby looked fully at Barbara. “I was here at seven this morning,” she said evenly, “and there was an entire tape of instructions waiting for me.” Now do you see why Valerie named me Acting Executive Assistant?

Barbara apparently received Abby’s unspoken message. “What can I do?” she asked, stuffing her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk.