'When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors

Took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer

Everybody here was someone else before.'

*ALTHEA'S POV*

October 9, 2023.

Angular shapes blurring in the fog, sharp peaks cutting through the clouds, a faint glow coming from the horizon, granite beige, steel gray, and every possible shade in-between matching the gloomy sky.

People said the view from the top of a skyscraper brought you closer to heaven. But all I saw was the fuzzy reflection of my black outfit before the New York scenery as I smoothed the sheath dress for the umpteenth time, and I would have surely caught the shakes of my fingers too if the door hadn't opened at this exact second, turning my attention back inside the earthy space.

"Mrs. Price, Mr. Sullivan, here is Althea Vesper," Linda introduced as I quickly crossed the meeting room, holding my hand out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, we've heard a lot of good things about you." The woman dressed in an immaculate white suit nodded to Linda, her knowing smile contrasting with the older man by her side, whose frown only deepened as he shook my hand and took my figure in from my black ballet flats to the top of my sleek ponytail, one head above him.

Mr. Sullivan wasn't fond of politeness and talking in general. Everyone in the company knew about his rough personality. I'd prepared myself for it, and I didn't let it dim my smile as I pointed to the wide oval table in the center of the room.

"Linda told me you don't have much time, so how about we start?"

That way, on the dark leather chairs, we would all be at the same height, and his manly ego wouldn't be offended by my 6-feet height.

Besides, the sooner we started, the sooner it would be over. It seemed to be what everyone was thinking, as Mrs. Price quickly pulled out her pen and papers from a Saint Laurent briefcase, and no one accepted Linda's offer for a coffee.

"So Ms. Vesper, we've already read your cover letter, and your portfolio is impressive for your age, but all of that didn't tell us much about yourself and your motivation to be a creative director at Cute Couture?"

She slid the resume papers on the glass table, as if I hadn't memorized every comma I'd typed, erased, and re-typed a hundred times.

"Well, working in children's fashion has been my dream since I was little, and I think becoming a creative director is the grail for every fashion designer," I explained, my gaze traveling between Mrs. Price and Mr. Sullivan because even if she was the one asking the questions, it was him whose approval would have the most weight in this. "I already love my job at CC as it is, and all the opportunities the company has given me.

"In this one year and three months I've been working here, I've learned a lot. That's why I feel ready to face this new challenge."

One question done. I didn't breathe out yet, but a discreet glance at Linda's encouraging smile allowed me to take another inhale for the rest.

From studies to inspirations, Mrs. Price asked everything, while the frowning man next to her barely moved an eyebrow.

I almost believed we'd lost him in the New York sky until he gathered bits of all my answers to ask the most dreaded question.

"You're talking about children and the importance of clothing in their lives, but how can you know? I mean, except from your studies. You don't have children from what I know?"

His creased eyebrows had finally smoothed, but they were even more imposing in a pointed arch that highlighted his piercing gaze.

"My mother created this company 89 years ago when she'd lost her husband and couldn't afford to buy proper clothes for her children. What a young woman like you can know about these kinds of concerns?"

Gertrude Sullivan, I'd done enough research about this strong woman, ahead of her time, to expect the question. So I shouldn't have been looking for words in the back of my parched throat.

But I would blame it on his stare, which didn't even waver when Mrs. Price tried to intervene.

"What he means is that 25 is young for a position like this. Having children isn't required to succeed as Lind—"

"She understood what I meant."

I had, and I'd also grasped that I couldn't dodge the question.

"Indeed, I don't know what it's like to be a mother, but..." My lips pinched closed, out of instinct, like the flicker of my gaze down to my hands, although they were under the table, laying flat on my thighs, and most scars were too small to see from there.

"I know what it's like to grow up in foster homes with five other kids, where the budget for clothes is limited, so you have to re-use, darn, and recycle. It's from there that my passion for fashion comes, and I've learned more about abrasion resistance and measurements than in my whole studies and career."

Even with my best smile, the words fell heavily in the air around, and Mr. Sullivan's eyebrows too.

"Besides, I'm 1,000% invested in my work, and so far, all the ideas I've proposed have been approved. I've already shown you the graphics about the increase in sales, I think?"

"Yes, you did," Mrs. Price replied, the surprise wearing off her features, even if a bit of awkwardness lingered in her gaze with another shadow I was all too familiar with.

But thankfully, Linda quickly brought the attention to her bright white pixie hair and twinkling gaze. "Oh, but you should show them the new collection idea! It's the best one so far."

"Um, yes, if you have a little bit more time?"

"Go ahead. We have a few minutes."

It wasn't what the neon numbers of the wall clock were saying; however, with Mr. Sullivan's nod, it appeared like my time to shine.

"Well, it's called 'secret treasures', and it's all about pockets and secret zippers to make it practical for the parents but fun for the kids." I quickly fumbled with my tablet, browsing through the many open tabs. "It goes with the upcoming trends and our approach of being more inclusive in every way because there are mixed items, as you can see here, with the pirate-princess theme. But we would also develop accessories with secret pockets."

"With pockets too?" Mr. Sullivan had never been this talkative, and as he leaned closer to the tablet screen, a surge of boldness took over my hands and my lips too.

"Yes, I have a prototype we're currently testing for scrunchies."

Nothing could stop me as I pulled the circle of coral velvety fabric out of my handbag, not even when I realized I didn't have the essentials to do a demonstration.

"If you look here, there's a small zipper to open it and put in little treasures, like..." I scanned the few items on the immaculate glass table, my gaze getting caught by the shiniest one, where a lonely ray of sunlight reflected in suddenly. "A ring!"

My future mother-in-law would have fainted if she'd ever seen me sliding the Tiffany diamond off my finger because 'it brought bad luck for a woman to take off her engagement ring'.

But her son would approve my gesture if it was for a business opportunity like this, and what bad could a few seconds do?

When the ring disappeared under the velvety fabric, I saw only good signs: the awe sound leaving Mrs. Price's lips, the impressed look on Mr. Sullivan's face when I added an eraser, and Linda's cheering voice as she pushed every small item she could find in my hand.

"A bobby pin, a bill for lunch— okay, one dollar might not be enough money but..."

I didn't hear the rest as George Washington stared at me, the green paper searing my fingertips, unless it was the voice branded in my memories.

'It's not just a bill, if you keep it treasured. Look beyond that.'

I was, and I saw the ten digits scribbled in red, the little wink on the far right, and the one that twisted half of his handsome face, the sparks on my skin as he closed my fingers around the paper and whispered above my ear—

"Althea? Althea? Are you okay?"

Two wide hazel eyes appeared in front of me, bringing me back to the present with the uneven thumps of my heart, and as if a part of me didn't want to come back, it took me two more seconds to unclench my trembling fists, the gesture pulling on all my aching muscles when I found George Washington still staring at me, and nothing else.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." I shook my head, pushing away the bill and the worried question in Linda's gaze, which she thankfully didn't voice... for now.

"Mrs. Price was asking you about the cost."

"Oh, um... yes, it's—"

Three thuds interrupted me, this time, against the door, and instantly, Mr. Sullivan's cold voice followed.

"Time's up."

Just like this, it was over.

Of course, there were a few more courtesies from Mrs. Price and me, stammering an offer to email them everything before wishing them a safe flight. But too quickly, they walked out, and my chance to realize my dream was over... because of a one-dollar bill.

Alone in that large meeting room, at the top of this tall skyscraper, I could really take in the irony of the situation.

Life had a sense of humor I still couldn't understand.

After more than three years of only using credit cards, why had George Washington's face had to show up at this exact instant?

I cursed life's irony. I cursed the people who hadn't abolished bills when it was a waste of paper. But above all, I cursed myself because it wasn't the infinite green of the Amazon rainforest I'd thought of at this sight; it wasn't the reason why oxygen couldn't reach my lungs.

It wasn't just a bill...

No, I quickly shook my head before suffocating.

I had work to do. Well, if nothing else, for a few more minutes as I gathered the few items left on the table, carefully avoiding the torn and crinkled green paper, before the door opened again, and I jumped again.

It was only Linda here. Nevertheless, the compassionate crease between her eyebrows made me straighten up more than Mr. Sullivan's imposing presence as I winced.

"How bad was it?"

"Bad? It wasn't bad." She pushed the door closed and walked up to me, her large and flowy brown shawl following her movements elegantly, but too slowly when I was holding the little air remaining in my lungs, already expecting the 'worst'.

"It was really good! They agree you'll be perfect for the job, even the grumpy Mr. Sullivan."

"Really?" I blinked at her stretching grin, not sure if I could breathe yet.

"Yes, I told you to believe in yourself! They say they'll support you at the board meeting if you make the same presentation, apart from..."

There it was... the line was back between her eyebrows, soon followed by two smaller ones.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I replied instantly, before forcing myself to take a breath. "Just a few seconds of nervousness."

Or I hoped so because it could have been years, and I didn't dare look at the clock, nor at Linda's eyes as she sighed.

"Althea.... you know it's okay to not be okay sometimes?"

What to reply to this? There were many possible answers, all clogging up my throat as I pinched my lips and eyes closed, although I knew nothing would come out.

"I have work to do." I swallowed harshly, reopening my eyes to see everything the same. My contact lenses hadn't even moved and neither had Linda.

"You've worked enough for today. Take your rest of the day off."

"What?! No, I—"

"In fact, you should even take a few days." She ignored me like I'd avoided her questions, and if she wanted to bring a reaction out of me, it was working. A drop of cold sweat was forming on my back as she continued, "Maybe a week."

"Linda, is that your way of firing me?"

"What? No, of course not! I'm not talking as your boss, here."

Was it supposed to reassure me? Not when she leaned her head down to catch my gaze.

"You're like the daughter I've never had, and I don't want you to burn out at work."

"Don't worry. Work is my fuel."

"Althea..." she repeated my name and the same distraught sigh going with it. "I can't say I know what you've been through and... how to deal with it."

Another sigh, this one sounding heavier, maybe because I wasn't breathing at all.

"But I know for sure that this job is really demanding, even if I make it look easy." She swept an imaginary long strand of hair from her shoulder, and I couldn't disagree with her as a smile stretched on my lips.

She managed everything with an iron fist but still in an elegant velvet glove, making sure everyone was at ease. That was how I'd been able to develop my ideas in so little time and grow the confidence to apply to take over her position.

That was also how I'd come to talk about basketball once, and she'd learned about my past.

She was the best, and although her girlfriend would be happy to finally travel the world with her, she would be greatly missed here, and I feared I would never live up to her talents.

"I have no doubt you'll handle everything as good, if not better, but I don't want you to forget yourself and your health. When was the last time you even took some vacation?"

"It's only been one year and three months I'm working here," I tried to plead my cause, but had I mentioned she was merciless in business too? "And I did take a day or two last December."

"Christmas doesn't count, especially when you worked from home that day too. I'm talking about a real vacation. Do you even know what that means?"

"Yes, of course, I do..."

Blurs of a beach with purples hues and turquoise waves, a bendy road through canyons, and ablaze rocks flashed through my mind, but I couldn't put words on them, or even catch them, as they escaped too fast, and I went back to the present and Linda's voice.

"It could be the occasion to take some time with your fiancé, prepare a wedding, or even visit someone's grave..."

Her eyes trailed down to my hands, making me take in their shakes and nakedness, as I hadn't put my ring back on yet. I wasn't sure I could with how much my fingers were still trembling.

I was already too slow as she grabbed my tablet, and when I reached out, the corner of warm plastic too quickly slipped out of my grip.

"It's decided. You have three weeks until the board meeting, and you're gonna take them off. No work, no laptop, just time for yourself."

"What?! But I—"

"I know you've got everything ready for your presentation, and this month is quieter, so you have no excuse. Besides, I'm not retired yet, so you can't go against your boss's orders."

Now, she was my boss again, and not my friend?

I was tempted to remind her what she'd said before, but seeing where my protests had gotten me, I chose not to push her.

It had already escalated quickly from a few hours to three weeks.

Three weeks. What would I even do for three weeks?

Any ideas? 👀 My dirty mind has some ideas of what (or whom) she could do lol! 😂

Anyway, what do you think of this chapter? The first one in Althea's POV! 3 years later, everything seems to be going great in her life, but is she really fine? 🤔

And those seconds of 'nervousness'? We'll find out more about it in the next chapter, which will be a flashback! One of my favorite scenes... 🤭🤫

In the meantime, don't forget to vote ⭐ if you like the story so far and can't wait for more! Seeing you as passionate as I am about this book is making me so happy, so thank you for your love and support (even when I break your heart). 🥰😘💗

PS: For my Gun In My Hand readers, did you notice the 'pirate-princess' reference? 👀