Ruled By A Woman

Chapter One

"Love is a friendship set to music" - Joseph Campbell

Dedicated to one of my favorite writers here. 

"No, Esmé, absolutely no. The opening party is happening next week!"

Margaret Wilson was sitting in her office and tried to keep herself calm. She was calling Esmé Raymond, the owner of the catering company, which provided refreshments on parties of the Small Gallery, where Margaret has worked. Now, to be exact six days before the opening party of a new vernissage, Esmé called her that she wasn't able to provide anything.

"Mrs. Wilson, I deeply apologize but our kitchen just burnt out and we try to figure some staff problems out. I'm really sorry, you have to find another catering. We indeed return your money..." tried to fix the problem Esmé.

"Can't do anything, can I?" resigned Margaret. "Do you know any company, which can save us?"

"Of course, I'll send you contacts to your mail, okay?" A voice of Esmé was full of nervousness. She knew that her company couldn't lose a customer as good as the Small Gallery was. Regardless she has to solve the problems...

"Thank you, Esmé. I hope everything will be alright soon and next time you will be able to be our catering again," said calmly Margaret and was playing with her letter knife, which she received as a gift from the owner of the Small Gallery.

"I thank you for your understanding and I'm looking forward to visiting the vernissage." Esmé was so happy that this art historian took everything calmly. She has never seen her angry or screaming but already heard stories about her anger and temperament.

"Oh thank you! See you!" Margaret ended the call. She leaned on her chair and looked around her office. Did she really need it? Why hasn't she already been on the way to Rhodes? Or to Florence, the most amazing city she has ever visited.

She put the letter knife on the table, rather than throwing it against the wall. She was so pissed out, everything was upside down and nothing worked. The incomes of the gallery decreased, employees threatened Margaret to be on strike for higher salaries but her biggest worry was the owner of this gallery, Richard Barney.

She's known him for 5 years. He offered her a job after her return from Europe. She didn't even know how he's found her, once just rang the phone and Richard asked her to join the crew in the Small Gallery. She was so excited and so now.

She looked again around her small office. Margaret preferred cosier places rather than wide rooms. She focused on the art mirror, which she has received from Richard as a birthday gift. Frankly, a majority of the things here were given by Richard.

She didn't have many friends, even in the school. Of course, she knew some people by names, she worked or had worked with some of them but she's never called them "friends". She was considered that soul mates don't exist at all.

Margaret stood up from her comfortable chair and came around her mahogany table straight in front of the mirror. Judging by her reflection, she looked older than she actually is. Margaret was 28yrs old but looked like a woman in her late thirties.

When she was a child, she used to be a lovely tiny blondie but it screwed it somehow and now she was brunette. She had been never thinking about dying her hair. Margaret put down her glasses and looked again on herself.

"Why do I wear it?" asked herself. Maybe because it was some type of protection.

She wore her favourite brown tailored suit. Even through it suited her well, she didn't feel comfortable in it. Her curves were similar to the bodies of Grecian goddesses – that said her professor of history. After time she released that it wasn't a compliment.