Who's Your Boss? (Original Version) Revised version available in eBook/paperback

Chapter 3

Thank you all for your support. It means a lot to me. :)

(Winnie)

The plane touched down a few minutes before nine-thirty. Once the seat belt sign went out I unfastened my seat belt and stood. Reaching up, I opened the overhead compartment and took down my overnight bag. I grabbed my purse and laptop bag from the seat next to mine and moved up the aisle. At that moment, the cockpit door opened and one of the pilots came out.

"Did you enjoy the flight, Ms. Monroe?" he inquired.

"I did," I assured him. "It was one of the smoothest flights I've been on. Thank you."

"Our pleasure," he said. "Mr. Drummond has requested that takeoff be tomorrow morning at ten. He'd like for you to be back in Dallas by noon."

"I see." I slipped my arm through my purse strap and transferred the laptop bag to my other hand. "Then I will be here ten o'clock sharp. Have a nice evening."

"You too, ma'am."

I made my way toward the exit. Descending the stairs, I glanced up and saw a black sedan parked a short distance away. The driver's side door opened and an elderly man in a suit stepped out. I smiled at him as he held open the back door for me.

"Welcome to Baton Rouge, Ms. Monroe," he said. "My name is Henderson. I will be your driver while you're here."

"It's nice to meet you, Henderson," I told him. "Please, call me Winifred."

"As you wish."

I slid into the backseat and placed my things beside me. Henderson closed the door, got behind the wheel, and started the car. As we drove away, I remembered that I had promised Reed I would call him once I landed. I dug my cell phone out of my purse and quickly dialed his number.

"Hello" he said, coming on the line after the third ring.

"I landed safely," I informed him. "I'm on my way to the hotel as we speak."

"Good," Reed mumbled. "Did the captain tell you what time takeoff will be tomorrow?"

"Ten o'clock," I answered, settling back against the seat. "I'll check out before I head to the museum. Is there a reason why you want me back in Dallas by noon?"

"You have a lunch meeting with Taylor Rosenberg at twelve-thirty," he replied.

"That's not until Wednesday," I reminded him.

"No, it's tomorrow," Reed said firmly.

"It's Wednesday," I repeated. "I would know since I'm the one who set up the meeting. Check the calendar again, Mr. Drummond."

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll take your word for it."

"Because you know I'm right," I snapped.

"No, because I'm not in the mood to argue with you," Reed growled.

"Is something wrong?" I inquired, frowning.

"It's been a stressful evening," he answered. "I'm tired."

"You're not the only one." I closed my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck. "Well I kept my promise to call you so if there's nothing else then-"

"There is something else," Reed interrupted. "It will have to keep until tomorrow though. We need to talk, Winnie, but it's a conversation I feel we should have face to face."

My heart flew into my throat and I swallowed hard. "Are you – are you firing me?"

"Good, God, no!" he cried. "What makes you think I'm going to fire you?"

"I don't know," I murmured. "The thought just popped into my mind."

"Well put it from your mind," he said softly. "Winnie, I need you. You are damn good at your job. Besides, no one else would put up with me the way you do."

"That's true," I agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"Tomorrow," Reed said. "We'll talk tomorrow. Good night, Winnie."

"Good night, Mr. Drummond." I ended the call and returned my phone to my purse. Turning my head, I glanced out the window at the passing scenery. My mind weighed heavily with the conversation we just had. What did he want to talk to me about? Suddenly tomorrow seemed like an eternity away.

I rose the next morning ready to face the day. After a quick shower, followed by a breakfast of oatmeal, fruit, and coffee, I checked out of the room and left the hotel. The car was parked by the curb. Henderson was leaning against it reading the morning paper. I wished him a good morning.

"Good morning, Winifred," he greeted me as he folded up the paper. "I see you're ready to go."

"I am." He got the door for me. "If you don't mind I'd like to sit up front with you."

"Alright."

I put my things in the back and then got in beside Henderson. He turned the ignition, starting the car, and put it in drive. Once he checked the mirror to make sure it was safe he pulled away from the curb. I asked him how long it would take to reach the museum.

"Oh about ten minutes," he said. "You'll get there in time. Mr. Drummond explained to me that you're going there to pick up a painting."

"That's right." I cleared my throat. "I hope they give me the correct one."

"You don't know what the painting looks like?" he queried.

"No," I uttered dryly. "I know nothing about it. All I was told to do was pick it up. I don't even know what he wants it for."

"I'm sure he'll tell you once he gets the painting."

"Maybe." I tucked several strands of hair behind my ear. "Do you know Mr. Drummond personally?"

"No." Henderson slowed down as we approached a stop sign. "I've only talked with him on a handful of occasions. I met him when he came to Baton Rouge last year for business. He seemed like a decent man from what I gathered."

"He is."

"How long have you worked for him?" he asked, coming to a halt at the stop sign.

"A year." I smirked. "It's felt like forever though. I met him at a charity event. He wasn't watching where he was going and bumped right into me. Luckily, his reflexes were good or I would've ended up on the floor. After he apologized, we made small talk and I learned he was looking for a new assistant. I applied for the position and he hired me." I grinned. "It wasn't too difficult getting the job. There weren't very many applicants applying for the position."

"I would think a successful man like Mr. Drummond would have a long list of people wanting to work for him," Henderson commented, moving his foot from the brake pedal to the gas.

"He can be a difficult man to work for," I pointed out, "a reasonable and honest man, but difficult nonetheless."

"I have a feeling, Winifred, you have no problem handling him." Henderson smiled crookedly. "You're a tiny woman, but something tells me you're strong."

I wanted to tell him that life had taught me to be a fighter. Instead I gazed out the window, wondering what Reed was doing at this very moment.