“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” he said and hugged her. “Good night. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Darcy closed her door on that promise and fell into her bed, sleeping for nine hours straight. She was late getting into work the next morning. She missed her first meeting and the day went downhill from there.
Her computer broke down and had to have the hard drive replaced, which wasn’t such an awful issue since she religiously backed up all her files. But after getting in late, she lost over half the day trying to get her computer back on line.
Her afternoon went smoothly enough, but she had to leave early in order to make it to her evening class, only to be told once she was there that the teacher was sick. All the students had been notified earlier in the day. Darcy called her voice mail and, sure enough, there was the message that the class would need to be canceled but since she’d been so busy, she hadn’t taken the time to listen to her messages.
Once she thought about the situation, she was relieved because there was also a message from Michael letting her know that he was thinking about her and he was sorry to have missed her.
As soon as she walked into her house, she dialed his home phone number, crossing her fingers in the hopes that he was there and would pick up so she could talk to him. She didn’t really have anything to say, but she wanted to hear his voice.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t home so she was only able to leave him a return message. She went to sleep that night frustrated and discouraged. By midnight, she promised herself that she would call him first thing in the morning before the day became too hectic.
Darcy breezed into her office, prepared to pick up the phone before she even started her computer. But when she entered her office, there was a message on her computer screen letting her know that the potential client for the proposal she was working on was sitting in the lobby waiting for her.
She didn’t understand the reasons why he was there, but she quickly made her way to the lobby where all visitors waited until their escort arrived to take them into the building.
“Mr. Finch?” she said politely as soon as she stepped off the elevators. “I’m Darcy Anderson. How can I help you?” she asked.
She watched as the man stood up and was instantly on her guard, but she couldn’t define why. The man was about her height but with dull, gray eyes that seemed a little too shifty for her taste. He had thinning black hair with a bald spot in the middle of his forehead. His glasses were thick, with old fashioned frames that fit his face poorly, one side being slightly higher than the other. His clothes dated back to before the seventies since everything was polyester – and wide. He even wore bell bottomed slacks. The man was a comedy routine, she thought as she extended her hand in greeting.
Mr. Finch took her hand and Darcy immediately wanted to pull her hand away. His hand was soft and sweaty and disgusted her. “I heard you were bidding on the work we are offering. I wanted to come by for a preliminary look at your ideas if that’s okay with you,” he said.
Darcy knew that this was not outside the bounds of his rights as the head of the committee that would be deciding the final bid. But usually they called ahead and arranged for a meeting, with the whole committee and all the project team. But she hid her astonishment and smiled, “I’d be happy to show you our solution, as long as you understand that this is only a preliminary version. It will be much hardier closer to the due date,” she explained, and pressed the button for the elevator.
They entered the elevator and stepped inside. Again, she had the feeling that something about this man was not quite right. Darcy was instantly wary. He stood very close to her and, she wasn’t sure, but suspected, that the man sniffed her. He was standing slightly behind her so she couldn’t see what he was doing, but it sounded strange.
Darcy stepped back so she was next to him in the elevator and turned to face him. “I hope you’ll like our ideas. The team has been putting in a lot of effort to come up with a viable solution for your department.”
He smiled patronizingly. “I saw an article you had written about a year ago on this type of software problem. You’re picture was flattering.”
Darcy froze, hearing warning bells go off in her head. “I’ve written several articles. Which one did you read?”
“I can’t remember the name of it, but I was interested because of your picture next to the headline. You’re a very beautiful woman, Darcy. May I call you Darcy?”
The elevator doors opened up and she led him down the hallway to their lab, not answering the man’s question. Instead, she directed his attention on the computers her proposal team was working on and the code they were writing for her ideas. She went through the whole process and how they were anticipating their solution to work. Darcy spent an hour going over the details with him, introducing him to the various team members and support staff.
“Is there anything else I can show you?” she asked.
Mr. Finch shook his head. “No, that was a very interesting tour. I know you’re busy, so I’ll be on my way,” he said and they stepped back into the elevators so Darcy could escort him back to the lobby.
She shook his hand as he left the building, then went directly to the bathroom to wash her hands, feeling dirty somehow.
A few hours later, Jim walked into her office. “Boy, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Jim said, his face looking grim.
Darcy turned from her computer screen and braced herself. “Go ahead and give it to me,” she said, laying her hands flat onto her desk. “Bad news is always easier to take quickly.”
“Kind of like taking off a band-aid, huh?” he laughed. When Darcy didn’t smile, he continued. “I just got this memo,” he said and handed her the paper.
Darcy skimmed the contents then inhaled sharply when she reached the last paragraph. “They can’t do that!”
“They can and they did,” Jim replied, his lips forming a thin line of frustration. “Can you make their new deadline?” he said, referring to the proposal deadline that had been moved up two months.
“I just spoke to Finch this morning. He didn’t give any indication that this would be happening.”
“Norman Finch?” Jim asked, surprised. “The head of the approval committee?” At Darcy’s nod he shook his head, “That’s pretty unusual. Why didn’t they make an appointment?”