Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
My head spins as I read this description in shock. Is it true that this man lives here, in puny Gainesville, a town that has at a maximum ten thousand people? Is it true that every day, he gets up and puts on a suit, and then drives to the same brick building that Harold shows up to?
It can’t be. Patrick Lancaster is too suave, sophisticated, and too everything for our small town. But somehow, fate has landed him here, and I’m going to meet him tomorrow!
2
Penny
Yesterday, I’d been over the moon about the possibility of meeting Gainesville’s most eligible bachelor. After all, we don’t have many eligible men here. Of course, there are the guys at my high school: the jocks, the goths, the theater geeks, and the yearbook staff. But no one really appeals to me. As a result, I’ve been single my entire four years at Gainesville High, although more than a few guys asked me out.
“Come on,” wheedled Brock Tanner just last week. “You’ll like the burgers over at Shake and Fry.”
I shook my head wryly.
“No thanks, Brock. I really appreciate it but I have to get to my job at SexyFlow after school. Thanks for thinking of me though.”
Brock pouted a bit, which was ridiculous since he was six foot two.
“You work all the time, Penny,” he whined. “What does that hair salon have that I don’t? Don’t you want to date like a normal girl? I asked Jeanette, Pauline, and Marisa out last week, and they all said yes. You’re the only one who’s said no. Ever.”
“Then you won’t miss me at all,” I retort merrily. “You have a full dance card, Brock, and I wouldn’t want to mess it up.”
Fortunately, Brock gave up the chase and satisfied himself with the Jeanettes, Paulines, and Marisas of the world because there was no way I was going to go out with him. Something about my high school classmates is very off-putting and Brock was a good example. I didn’t like the way he used so much gel in his hair so that it looked greasy, nor did I like the way he whined and pouted like a little boy. He was immature, just like the rest of his crew, and I’d be happier doing a shift at SexyFlow per usual.
But Patrick Lancaster is a different story. First, he has to be at least a decade older than my classmates, with the life experience to show for it. He went to a fancy college on the East Coast, and then lived overseas while building out his grandfather’s empire. He’s probably fluent in Arabic and Japanese, having spent time there, which is insanely impressive.
But what I find most interesting is that he’s re-located here, to Gainesville. What could we have to offer? I understand that the city gave his company a tax break, but it must be so different here than the big metropolitan areas he’s inhabited in the past. I look forward to asking him some of these questions.
“You ready?” Harold asks while opening the car door for me. “You’ll like Lancaster. It’s not like The Office at all. My co-workers are much nicer and much more normal.”
I laugh at my dad’s quip while getting out of the car.
“Daddy, I didn’t think your workplace was like Dunder Mifflin. First, because you guys don’t manufacture paper products, and also because there’s no Steve Carell! What would The Office be like without a boss like Steve Carell?”
My dad chortles along with me while leading me to the glass doors at the front of a large brick building with the sign Lancaster in front.
“Well, honey, I think you’ll find that a job is a job is a job, and that actually, The Office isn’t that far off from real life. But you’ll see.”
As I step into the lobby, my eyes grow round because it’s quite luxurious. From the outside, Lancaster Industries doesn’t look imposing whatsoever. It’s a middling brick building with a parking lot out front. But upon entering the interior, I see that the lobby is all-white, with shiny marble floors; a grey receptionist desk that looks carved from granite; and striking artwork on the walls.
“This is Lancaster?” I gasp.
“It is,” my dad beams proudly. “Nancy, can you tell us where we’re meeting for Take Your Daughter To Work Day?” he asks the elderly receptionist.
She smiles and hands us a piece of paper.
“In Conference Room 11,” she says. “This is the schedule. Welcome, honey. You’ll have a good time today.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, my cheeks flushing. It’s because behind us, another man has entered with a little girl holding his hand. She looks to be about eight, which is probably the age of most of today’s participants. Oh no. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.
A look at the schedule has my heart sinking as well. There are items such as “Face-painting,” “Valentine’s Card Making,” and “Valentine’s Celebration.”