The MFR All-Out-One-Week Blitz Part 2
In addition to trying to get MFR finished this week, I have two freelance projects I’m still trying to wrap up by Friday. So I actually spent more time working on that yesterday than I did writing. But I still got almost a full chapter written this morning (as in, between about 12:30 a.m. and 3:30 a.m.). So here’s today’s excerpt . . .
This is at the big black-tie Valentine’s Day banquet that Meredith has planned, and she’s talking with her parents, the owners of the corporation and her “bosses.”
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Mom, instead of looking around the room, scrutinized Meredith. “You look gorgeous tonight, Mere. Is that new?”
Meredith looked down at the wine colored gown. “I picked it up at a consignment store down in Baton Rouge last time I was there.”
“The color’s perfect on you. I know you get tired of hearing this, but I do so prefer to see you dressed up than in those ratty clothes you like to wear on the weekends.” Mairee reached out as if to touch Meredith’s cheek, but lowered her hand again. “Forbes told us that you were feeling like we don’t respect you or your position in the company.”
Meredith closed her eyes and ground her breath in the back of her throat. “He shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t his place.”
“No. It was yours. Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Instead of looking affronted, sadness filled her mother’s expression.
“I guess because I thought that you’d eventually realize you were riding roughshod over me. I thought if I put up with it long enough, you’d see that you treat me differently than any of the other executive directors.” Meredith wished she hadn’t taken her jacket off. Chill bumps danced up and down her arms.
“You’re right.” Dad rested his hand on her shoulder. “We have been taking advantage of the fact you’re our daughter. And we promise that’s going to stop.”
“But you have to make us a promise in return.” Mom smiled. “You have to promise that you’ll come to us and talk about these things before they make you so mad that you take it out on other members of the family. Okay?”
Leave it to Forbes and Jenn to make it all about them. “Okay.”
The elevator chimed, saving her from more awkward parental attention. They moved on to take their seats, and Meredith returned to her post.
The room buzzed with voices, the twelve-piece orchestra barely discernable above the din. Meredith couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. The lead-up to tonight had been anything but easy; but the guests, dressed in their glittering best, talked and laughed and appeared to be enjoying themselves. These were the moments she lived for.
A Bible verse strayed through her thoughts: Give her the product of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.
She hoped her parents meant what they said about showing her more respect from now on, but if not, she would learn how to be content with knowing that by creating a good “product” through hard work and dedication, God would reward her with fulfillment in the praise of her guests’ enjoyment.
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