Side Roads
Georgette viewed her office as a sanctuary within the empire of her business; a place where she could find brief escape from the overwhelming riots of daily commerce. Today was an exception, though. The cozy comfort of her feminine atmosphere was blindsided by a rage of testosterone and the subtle battle of wills, as the two men fought a silent battle of dominion over the conference with her. At first she was bemused, and then irritated, especially when Mr. Redden made a comment about the tender blossoming flowers waiting to be plucked. He was referring to Heather, whom he glimpsed through one of the windows, as she came out of the greenhouse.
The rumor mill hinted that the reason Congressman Redden hadn’t run for a second term wasn’t due to ill health as purported, but to a scandal of inappropriate conduct within the confines of his own office. Georgette didn’t know the definite details, but in her heart she felt that maybe the rumors were found on solid ground in spite of the denials from those close to him. She was on the verge of canceling the meeting when Mr. Redden got a cell phone call that demanded his immediate attention. When he stepped into the hallway outside Georgette’s office to speak in private, Mr. Hutchins seized the moment to speak confidentially to Georgette.
In a quiet voice, he said, “I apologize for Congressman Redden’s behavior, Mrs. Witt.”
She interrupted. “Miss, not Mrs.”
“Miss Witt, then. When I won the architecture contract of the project, I didn’t realize I would have to include him in every minuscule aspect of the planning.”
“He is the project head, Mr. Hutchins. He’s not out of order, really. I dislike his innuendos, but can overlook them if the main object of our conjunction is met with professionalism. Let me offer you some unsolicited advice.”
“I’m all ears, Miss Witt.” His tolerant smile reminded her of her father and the times during her youth, when she would explain something to him that he already knew how to do.
“If you want to met deadlines and not appear weak opposite Mr. Redden’s force, you need to establish concise leadership boundaries immediately. The first step is to recognize that he’s not a congressman anymore. He’s in the vein of any committee member that you’ve dealt with in the past.”
Hutchins smiled broadly, “Wisdom becomes you, Miss Witt. I can see why Martin regards you so highly.”
They were interrupted by Mr. Redden’s return. A crisis at his office closed the meeting. Rod Hutchins promised to call her early the next morning. After they left, Georgette was pressed for time. She had some tasks to finish, before going over to Trip’s for the evening. With Heather’s help, she managed them and hurried home for a quick shower and change of clothes.
She exchanged jeans for a long flowing green skirt with a matching peasant style blouse. Traffic was light as she drove to Trip’s neighborhood. She drove, searching for a parking spot on the street perpendicular to Trip’s street. Locating a perfect one on the corner, Georgette parked her weathered jeep and walked briskly to Trip’s house. The toils and trials of the day ebbed about, as the anticipation of his kiss embraced her heart.
Georgette viewed her office as a sanctuary within the empire of her business; a place where she could find brief escape from the overwhelming riots of daily commerce. Today was an exception, though. The cozy comfort of her feminine atmosphere was blindsided by a rage of testosterone and the subtle battle of wills, as the two men fought a silent battle of dominion over the conference with her. At first she was bemused, and then irritated, especially when Mr. Redden made a comment about the tender blossoming flowers waiting to be plucked. He was referring to Heather, whom he glimpsed through one of the windows, as she came out of the greenhouse.
The rumor mill hinted that the reason Congressman Redden hadn’t run for a second term wasn’t due to ill health as purported, but to a scandal of inappropriate conduct within the confines of his own office. Georgette didn’t know the definite details, but in her heart she felt that maybe the rumors were found on solid ground in spite of the denials from those close to him. She was on the verge of canceling the meeting when Mr. Redden got a cell phone call that demanded his immediate attention. When he stepped into the hallway outside Georgette’s office to speak in private, Mr. Hutchins seized the moment to speak confidentially to Georgette.
In a quiet voice, he said, “I apologize for Congressman Redden’s behavior, Mrs. Witt.”
She interrupted. “Miss, not Mrs.”
“Miss Witt, then. When I won the architecture contract of the project, I didn’t realize I would have to include him in every minuscule aspect of the planning.”
“He is the project head, Mr. Hutchins. He’s not out of order, really. I dislike his innuendos, but can overlook them if the main object of our conjunction is met with professionalism. Let me offer you some unsolicited advice.”
“I’m all ears, Miss Witt.” His tolerant smile reminded her of her father and the times during her youth, when she would explain something to him that he already knew how to do.
“If you want to met deadlines and not appear weak opposite Mr. Redden’s force, you need to establish concise leadership boundaries immediately. The first step is to recognize that he’s not a congressman anymore. He’s in the vein of any committee member that you’ve dealt with in the past.”
Hutchins smiled broadly, “Wisdom becomes you, Miss Witt. I can see why Martin regards you so highly.”
They were interrupted by Mr. Redden’s return. A crisis at his office closed the meeting. Rod Hutchins promised to call her early the next morning. After they left, Georgette was pressed for time. She had some tasks to finish, before going over to Trip’s for the evening. With Heather’s help, she managed them and hurried home for a quick shower and change of clothes.
She exchanged jeans for a long flowing green skirt with a matching peasant style blouse. Traffic was light as she drove to Trip’s neighborhood. She drove, searching for a parking spot on the street perpendicular to Trip’s street. Locating a perfect one on the corner, Georgette parked her weathered jeep and walked briskly to Trip’s house. The toils and trials of the day ebbed about, as the anticipation of his kiss embraced her heart.
penned by Painter Lady at 5:01 PM
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