Match Me If You Can. Michele GormanЧитать онлайн книгу.
a lot of other not-very-athletic boys? The camp’s founder knew David’s dad from when he fitted his new boiler and got him in as a favour.
Everyone was a little bit false when it came down to it. Catherine only needed to look at herself, smiling at Magda as if they were new best friends.
When she thought about it, that’s what she was offering with the client remodelling service: a few tips and tricks to brighten up a sagging façade. They were only cosmetic renovations.
Mentally she filed away Richard’s wine gimmick to share with Paul. He wouldn’t need to be an expert, only to look competent on a date. Once a woman was in love with him she wouldn’t care that he didn’t know his Meursault from his Merlot.
‘What other changes are you thinking of making?’ Magda asked.
‘Changes?’
‘To the business,’ she said, frowning. ‘You must have a lot of ideas about how to grow it.’
‘It doesn’t need growing. It does pretty well as it is,’ Catherine said, knowing she sounded defensive.
‘But you cannot rest on your laurels.’
‘What makes you think that I’m resting on my laurels?’
‘Oh, I did not mean to offend you! I just thought that a businesswoman like you would be full of ideas.’
‘We can’t expand too quickly or we won’t be able to give our clients the service they’re paying for.’
She did not have to justify her business to this child.
‘Catherine is always coming up with new ideas,’ Richard said, grasping Magda’s hand. ‘RecycLove wouldn’t exist without her.’
But Magda wouldn’t be distracted. ‘So this renovation idea,’ she continued. ‘Giving clients a one-on-one self-improvement, is that not going to stretch the staff?’
‘Magda,’ Catherine said, knowing she was about to sound exactly like her mother. ‘Richard and I talk through all business-related matters and decide together what makes sense for the company.’
She may as well have said, Your dad and I don’t think you need to worry about that kind of grown-up talk. Now go upstairs and do some colouring in.
‘Magda does have a point though, Catherine. Will taking on two new clients be too much for you?’
‘No! Definitely not. I’ll keep track, shall I, and report back to you in a few weeks. Now, are you ordering starters or just mains?’
She’d known dinner would be uncomfortable, but she hadn’t expected a work critique.
‘Just a main for me,’ said Magda. ‘With the holidays coming, I need to watch my diet or I will never fit into my dress.’
She rolled her eyes like she was a contestant on The Biggest Loser.
Catherine officially hated her.
James didn’t fool her. He might be doodling in his notebook but he’d also hang on every word their boss said. He just thought that pretending disinterest made him look cool.
Rachel, on the other hand, was leaning so far forward that she was practically lying across the table. Missed a trick there. She should have had her nose in her book when Ed came in. But then nobody ever accused her of being cool.
‘So what’s up?’ James asked, as if he and Ed were old pals.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Ed said, ignoring James’s bonhomie. Rachel allowed herself the tiniest smile. Not that his snub meant she’d get promoted to the favourite instead.
‘I wanted to touch base about the Zigler pitch,’ Ed continued. ‘At the risk of repeating myself, you did an excellent job and the client loved your ideas. It’s not always easy for young architects to read a meeting correctly, to know just where to pitch your message, but you did it.’
Young architects? Ed was welcome to think of her as a fresh-faced hotshot. She smoothed down her dress – navy polka dots today. Sometimes her style did work in her favour. Though he didn’t need to make it sound like he was their grandfather, tutoring them at his wizened old knee and fishing Werther’s Originals from his cardigan pockets. She knew for a fact that he’d only just turned forty. His wife had sent an enormous cake to the office a few months ago and embarrassed the hell out of him. There was no arguing with his experience though. He’d been with the company since he graduated, working his way up to partner. The higher he climbed, the more hair he lost. These days his shiny scalp was reflecting a lot more than his success.
When Ed’s eyebrows knitted together in concern, Rachel realised she’d been beaming idiotically. Composing herself, she said, ‘Thanks, Ed. We worked really hard on it. And thanks for giving us a chance.’
Way to go, she thought. Pitch your message about two notches above kiss-arse.
Ed directed his next comments to James. ‘I thought your use of that mood board was excellent. It lifted your idea from a drawing to a concept. Inspired.’
That wasn’t James’s idea. It was hers. Well, technically she’d nicked it from Sarah. She was always putting mood boards together for her cards. She shredded magazines faster than a hamster when she got a new idea. Even if the housemates were still reading them.
‘And the presentation was slick,’ Ed continued as James doodled. ‘You used just the right amount of animation to keep their interest. Too much just makes everyone dizzy and lowers the perceived quality of your message.’
Why did he keep looking at James? He’d never been able to work the 3-D program properly. Those animations were hers.
‘Actually, Ed, the mood board was my idea,’ she said.
Ed’s smile creased the laugh lines near his pale blue eyes and made his face look less narrow than usual. Without the smile he looked like a youngish Richard E Grant.
‘Rachel, there’s no “I” in team.’
She felt her face go crimson. She shouldn’t have said anything. Now she just looked petty, while James confidently doodled. If only she could rewind the conversation and take it back. But she couldn’t make Ed unhear her.
Actually, sod that. She didn’t want to take it back. She wanted credit where it was due in the first place. Then she wouldn’t have to stick up for herself. Because that’s all she was doing. She wouldn’t get anywhere if her boss thought James did all the work while she sat in the meeting looking pretty.
Ed kept talking to James while she stewed. Then he complimented the pastries they’d ordered for the meeting. This time he looked straight at Rachel.
That figured. James got credit for all the important work. She got pastries. What did that make her – Julia Child to his Mies van der Rohe?
No, she wasn’t even Julia. She was Mr Kipling handing out pre-packaged cakes.
‘This is ridiculous!’ she said. ‘There may not be an “I” in team, Ed, but if you change your perspective a bit, you’ll see that there is a “me”. You seem to have forgotten that.’
Ed stared at her.
James stared at her.
She wanted to crawl under the table and forget the meeting ever happened.
‘Rachel, is everything all right? I’m sensing there might be an issue here and, honestly, I need to know that nothing’s going to derail you. You and James will be working closely together on this project. Is there