5. Sweet Revenge by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels [Michaels, Fern]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vigilante justice
ISBN: 9780821778791
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2006-09-26T07:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Isabelle Flanders stood in the doorway to her office, her eyes misty with happiness. Everything was so perfect, so modern, so beautiful. In her wildest dreams, she’d never expected to have an office like this one. Her old office, before Rosemary Hershey, had been a quarter of this size, crowded, the staff always getting in each other’s way, stumbling over boxes, babbling and joking about the cramped quarters, but it had all been in fun. In a desperate move to find more space, one of her staff had hung wires and hooks so they could hang stuff from the ceiling. The staff had been wonderful, everyone compatible except for Rosemary, who’d had her own agenda. Of course, Isabelle hadn’t known that at the time. It had been a working office that provided results for anxious clients. And a place for an after-hours tryst or two with Bobby Harcourt. That was a long time ago. Don’t go there, Isabelle. Easier said than done.

Isabelle sniffed at the newness of the place. The green plants and the fresh flowers were the last things delivered before she’d left the office at eight o’clock the previous night.

Today, she was open for business. As she walked across the blue-green marble that the tile man said was the exact color of the Mediterranean, she looked toward her new receptionist, whose name was on the tip of her tongue, and waved. The rich mahogany paneling gleamed in the subdued lamplight. Lights would have to burn all day because there was no window in the reception area and no way to install one. Her own office had wraparound windows, dove-gray carpeting, and vertical blinds with elaborate cornice boards on all the windows. Her desk was one of a kind, her drafting table her own, the one she’d started out with before Rosemary Hershey. It was the only thing, besides the stool, that she’d kept from the days before Rosemary Hershey. She positively itched to sit on the high-backed stool, pencil in hand, fresh paper in front of her, ideas ricocheting around her head.

It was playtime, nothing more. She had no clients, no ideas, just a beautiful office where she could talk on the phone, doodle and stare out the window, hoping and wishing for vindication.

These offices were part of her revenge, nothing more. When the Sisterhood finally vindicated her, she would move on. These elegant, scrumptious quarters were not for her. This simply wasn’t who she was. She was a hands-on architect. She had a plan for what she called after Rosemary. She was going to open a small one-man office, work her tail off the way she had when she first started out. She’d work long hours, go home bone tired, then wake up and do it all over again. She’d do it on her own, with no help from anyone. If things got tough financially, she’d sleep and shower in her office. She’d done that in the early days and had been happier than a pig in a mudslide.

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