“Yes, ma’am.” Holding her briefcase close to her side, Madison raised her chin. She was a Fielding. And just because it was her first time at the firm didn’t mean that this wouldn’t be all hers one day.

At least if I play my cards right.

They reached mahogany double doors, and Grandmother Eileen opened them without knocking.

Twelve men were sitting around an oval table, all conversation instantly ceasing the instant she entered the room and stared at them.

Madison gulped.

A man with barely any hair on his shining head and a belly in front of him as if he was nine months pregnant jumped up. “Mrs. Fielding. Good to see you. We, um, were just about to—”

Grandmother Eileen held up her hand. “I’m not blind. I can see that you were about to start without me.” She took a seat at the head of the table and signaled Madison with a twirl of her wrist to sit at the other end.

But there was no chair.

“Burton, get my granddaughter a chair. Why haven’t you taken care of it already? You agreed to her participation on Friday, have you forgotten already?”

Everybody stared at Madison.

I won’t blush, I won’t blush, I won’t—

“Of course not, Mrs. Fielding.” The pregnant-looking man pushed his chair to the end of the table for Madison to sit before rushing off at a speed that belied his proportions. “Cecil has forgotten, it seems. I’ll get it immediately.”

Madison sat down the same moment her grandmother did and followed her example of getting a notebook and a pen out of her briefcase.

“Let’s begin with agenda item one,” Grandmother Eileen said.

Madison really tried, but after an hour of boring data analysis and discussion, her thoughts began to drift. Really amazing that every man in the room seemed to have the same tailor. Their suits looked cloned.

When a haggard tall man stood, talking about some negotiations he had led, Madison’s boredom was replaced by amusement. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with every word.

She had to bite her tongue not to start laughing about it. Instead she allowed her mind to wander to Sherry. She had to be at the Archer right now. It was really a sight how Sherry’s hips swayed just slightly while she walked from table to table. And most of the time, her lips sported an enchanting smile while doing so. At the last second, Madison suppressed a sigh.

When one of the executive committee members glanced at her, she focused on her notebook and wrote down the first thing said.

“This results in a five-percent growth overall in our transatlantic trading volume,” the guy in his mid-forties concluded before sitting down to the applause of his colleagues.

Holding back a yawn, Madison clapped too.