The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [113]
“Um, thanks. You have fun too.” Alice hung up, her mood too good to be dampened. And it wasn’t just her gleaming new status as an agent that made her swivel on her chair with excitement.
She’d been planning all week for the date. Not in an overwrought way, she was quick to tell herself, more the idle musings that always preceded these sorts of things—the outfit planning, the selection of shoes, the well-timed hair washing the night before. Alice didn’t want to admit she’d put more thought into this particular dinner than any other in a long while, but the dress laid neatly on her bed at home (with the perfect necklace, purse, and jacket set out nearby) spoke otherwise. She may not be the sort to spin out romantic fantasies the way Flora did, but Alice had an instinct that this might finally be something real.
There was a light tap at her door.
“Yes?” Alice looked up as Saskia edged in.
“This just got faxed to the main line.” She seemed disgruntled as she maneuvered around a stack of files and delivered the papers. “When are you going to get the intercom fixed? I shouldn’t be away from the desk,” she added, as if that were her sole worry, and not the inconvenience of two flights of stairs in her perilous heels.
Alice took the papers with a breezy smile. “Thanks. And I’m not sure about the intercom. They said it was beyond repair.”
“Then why not get a new one?”
Alice shrugged. “I’m sure I will, when I get the time.” The intercom was, in fact, in perfect working order, sitting in a box at the bottom of Alice’s wardrobe at home. But since she’d apologetically announced news of its passing, her co-workers had ceased their interruptions almost entirely, as if making their helpless requests to her face was too much of an effort.
“Fine.” Saskia didn’t appear pleased by the thought of navigating those stairs on a more regular basis. She turned to go, but then paused. “Oh, Vivienne said she wants to talk to you.”
Alice froze. “Did she say why?”
Saskia shrugged. “I don’t know. She said to go see her after the agent meeting.”
Of course she did. Alice had known her extracurricular activities wouldn’t go unnoticed for long, and she could just imagine what choice words her boss would have waiting to deliver. That was, unless…
“The meeting—” Alice stopped Saskia before she left. “Has it started yet?”
Another shrug. “Maybe. They’re all down there.”
“Thanks.”
Alice waited until she’d departed, then began to collect her notes. The weekly meetings were a tradition, gathering to exchange news of clients and possible agency opportunities, and to boast about their particular successes. It wasn’t that she was excluded from attending, but Alice—or Vivienne—had never seen the point. After all, she wasn’t an agent.
At least, she hadn’t been before.
Skipping lightly down the staircase, Alice found the agents in Vivienne’s salon, distributing themselves among her array of antique furniture. She took a seat on one of the velvet-upholstered wing chairs, feeling every inch the interloper. A few of the other agents gave her a look of brief interest, but they were quickly distracted by Vivienne, who was holding court with a story involving all manner of London theater luminaries.
“And so I said to Sir Kenneth, if you expect me to put that thing in my mouth—” She broke off, looking at Alice with confusion. “Didn’t Saskia say, darling? After the meeting, after.”
Alice gave a pleasant smile and braced herself. “Oh, she did. But I thought I’d join you all. Now that I’ll be moving to the agent side of things, I mean.”
That caught their attention. Even Tyrell, sharp suited in navy pinstripes and his usual black Converse sneakers, lowered his phone to look at her in surprise.
“Well, I didn’t think…” Vivienne looked perturbed, but Alice turned her attention to the others.
“Don’t worry, I’ll still be taking care of contracts, for now,” she said carefully. “I’ll just be working with a couple of clients as well, sort of testing the waters.”
Alice felt a faint wave of nausea roll through