Disgusted with the conversation and the woman standing in front of her, Addison Kane cast an evil eye toward her personal assistant who was standing a few steps behind Fran. Repulsed by association, she curled her lip at Millie Barnswell, turned on her heel and strode to her awaiting car. As she approached the silver and black limo, Addison’s agitation erupted again, and before her chauffeur could open the door, she kicked it as hard as she could.

David Turner didn’t blink an eye at the indentation left by Addison Kane’s boot in the polished panel of the vintage automobile. Opening the door, he waited for his employer to enter, and then quickly closed it and trotted to the driver’s side. A minute later, two women were left standing in the rain.

Opening the umbrella she had been holding the entire time, Francesca offered protection from the drizzle to the older woman standing to her right.

Stepping under the wide black brolly, Millie watched as the limousine drove down the street. “Oh my,” she said looking up at Fran. “Seems like we’ve been forgotten.”

Letting out a long breath, Fran said, “Well, I don’t know about you, but the last place I want to be right now is in the back of that limo.”

“Yes, she did seem a bit upset, didn’t she?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Fran said, waving for a taxi. “How about you and I go get a drink? Give her some time to cool down before we go back to work.”

Checking her watch, Millie said, “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?”

“It’s either that or we go back to the office. Your choice.”

Millie pursed her lips and thought for a second. “I believe there’s a lovely little bistro right around the corner.”

***

An hour later, Millie politely smiled as the waitress placed two more glasses of wine on the table. Waiting until the woman walked away, Millie said, “I really think we should go back soon. Addison will be wondering where we are.”

“And what if she is?”

“Sorry?”

“Millie, she’s out of control right now,” Fran said, keeping her voice low. “We go back to the office, and all she’s going to do is ruin something else, and I prefer it not to be us.”

With a snort, Millie said, “She was extremely angry, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, but she was also right. We are running out of time.”

“Surely there is some…some precedent somewhere.”

“The problem is we’re fighting a three-hundred-year-old tradition,” Fran said as she picked up her glass of Chardonnay. After taking a healthy swallow, she said, “The courts don’t like getting involved when it comes to changing a company’s policies, no matter how antiquated they may be, and that’s exactly what the mediators told her today.”

“So, what are the options?”

“What?”