In Part 1 I explained that this was pre-edit and a work in progress. I've been true to this explanation and kept it original. I realise I have to do work on it before I start the publishing process (if at all) and it is clear to me for this excerpt at least, because it's a little confusing and disjointed. I apologise for that, but here's Part 3 'as-is' and unedited.
Sara looked up at the grey stone and glass building. She watched people arrive and enter by the sliding doors. Her eyebrow lifted. It seemed such a lot of effort, two oversized doors swishing open just for one person to enter.
Sara jerked out of her contemplation at a gentle nudge of her elbow. She turned. A man stood next to her and she recognised him from the rounds of interviews. He wore a dark suit and clean, white shirt. He carried a briefcase and a folded coat over his arm. He smiled at her.
“Good morning. It’s Sara Hickey, isn’t it?”
“Good morning,” she said, flustered, struggling to recall his name. “Yes, Sara.”
“I’m David Langtree, we’ll be working together. Come on, let’s grab a coffee and I’ll show you the office.”
Half asleep, Sara pulled her pillow across her face to block the light streaming through the open curtains. She grumbled, half-awake, rubbed her eyes and yawned. Forgetting to draw the curtains at night was a bad habit from childhood that she couldn’t shake.
She reached for her alarm clock and peered at it through one sleep-bleary eye. “Ohh, damn it! No, no, no! I can’t believe I didn’t set the alarm!”
Sara didn’t leap out of bed, energised by the sudden adrenaline rush. She caught her leg in the sheet and fell onto the floor, bashing her upper arm on the bedside table. “Ow,” she grumbled, rubbing her arm. “That’s going to leave a bruise. Oh, just damn it!”
Wisps of a dream sifted through her distracted mind, dissolved and were lost without giving her consciousness time to acknowledge the imagery.
The bathroom disasters didn’t make things any better and certainly didn’t improve her mood. No hot water for some reason meant a cold shower or no shower. She splashed near-freezing water on her face and decided the shower would wait. Sara brushed her teeth in a frenzy, glanced at her reflection and grimaced at the state of her hair. She spat the toothpaste out, rinsed her mouth and looked up at the mirror again. Dishevelled hair that needed washing, dark circles under both eyes and a large pimple developing at the side of her nose. “Oh, I could just cry,” she said.
She plucked a ponytail band off the side of the sink and dropped it in the toilet. The scream that built into a major outburst threatened to explode, but she took hold of the tantrum, breathed in and out a couple of times, fists clenched by her sides, eyes closed in frustration, and she managed to calm herself down.
Controlling her breathing, she dabbed witch hazel on the burgeoning pimple and went back to her bedroom. Sara picked up her phone and selected a number.
“Mum? I’m going to be late for work, there’s no hot water and I got out on the wrong side of the bed. Could I come over and use your shower please? And then could you take me to work?”
Tears threatened to spill from Sara’s clenched eyelids as she listened to her mother’s soothing voice. “Yes, of course. Come over, the kettle has just boiled and I’ll have breakfast waiting for you when you get out of the shower.”
“Thanks Mum,” Sara whispered.
Sometimes, Sara knew she needed to live on her own, but she was thankful that she’d decided not to move all the way across town. Being closer to Mum wasn’t always convenient, but it had its advantages.
Sara kissed her mum before getting out of the car and she walked into work with a spring in her step. Her smile proved infectious. Monday morning not so bad after all.
“Good morning,” she said to the receptionists. Most looked up and smiled at her or said, “Good morning,” and continued with their work. She picked up a bundle of envelopes from her office’s in tray and walked up two flights of stairs.
“Good morning, Mr Langtree,” she said to her boss’s back.
He turned from the filing cabinet, a hand full of files. “Morning. Do you know where the Greenaway file is? I can’t find it and we have a meeting in ten minutes.”
“We do?” she said and looked at her watch. “The file should be under the estate executor’s name, remember? Mrs Greenaway died.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember.” Mr Langtree said. He piled the files from his hand on top of the filing cabinet, closed the drawer, opened the next drawer and stopped what he was doing. “What’s the estate executor’s name?” He sighed and his shoulders slumped a little.
Sara laughed. “Langtree,” she said.
“Really?” he said, and sighed again. “I’m glad you’re here, this job has been driving me crazy. Oh, and you’ve been told to call me Dave when we’re not in official meetings.”
“Yes, I remember, Dave. The thing is, until I’m used to all the pomp and circumstance of official and non-official situations, I’d rather call you Mr Langtree so I don’t slip up,” she said.
“Fair enough,” he said, waving the lost file. “Let’s get off to the meeting, we can grab a coffee and be there early enough to go over this.”
Sara held two mugs of coffee, Mr Langtree held the file and opened the door to the meeting room. Sara walked in and stopped, unsure of protocol. Around the table sat three men in business suits. She knew one was Councillor Rathbone, but the other two were unknown.
“Good morning, Councillor Rathbone,” Mr Langtree said, his demeanour dropping straight into professionalism. He nodded and said, “Gentlemen.”
The two men stood, Councillor Rathbone did not.
“Hello, Mr Langtree,” the older man said, reaching out a hand to Sara’s boss.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr Langtree,” Dave said.
The older man’s colleague looked at both men, a puzzled expression on his face.
He tried to hide his confusion but didn’t quite manage. Sara smiled at him.
Sara said, “Morning,” and nodded. She placed the coffee mugs on coasters on the table. “Would anyone else like a drink?”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. I’d like a cup of tea,” Councillor Rathbone said.
The two men took their seats and shook their heads no.
“Just a cup of tea then,” Councillor Rathbone said, waving his hand to dismiss Sara.
Sara ignored the dismissal, she pulled out the chair next to her boss and sat down. She picked up the phone on the table and asked for tea, coffee and cups to be brought into the meeting.
Councillor Rathbone looked at Sara as though he’d never encountered a young woman before. “And who are you?” he said.
“This is Sara Hickey, my new assistant,” Dave said. She’ll be in charge of researching any issues that may arise from this case.”
The wind taken from his sails, Councillor Rathbone harrumphed and shuffled papers. He managed to avoid looking at Sara again for the rest of the meeting. He spoke over her, ignored her questions and answers and needed Dave to repeat everything she said.
By the end of the meeting, Sara felt she was not being taken seriously by Councillor Rathbone and that the men from Langtree’s Solicitors were beginning to follow his lead.
The older solicitor, Mr Langtree redeemed himself at the end of the meeting.
Sara stood and collected her notes. Mr Langtree also stood, and after a pause, so did his colleague. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Hickey,” he said, reaching out his hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you, you certainly know your way around the planning aspect of the council operations.”
Sara shook his hand, nodded once and said, “Thank you, Mr Langtree. I look forward to working with you too, this is an interesting project.”
Added as explanation
I'm also re-thinking the confusing same-name thing. I suppose it worked better in my head - it doesn't translate so well on the written page.
Pictures from Pixabay
Part 4