From Time To Time

By Susan Thornton

Amanda Winfield, the owner of a thriving headhunting firm, is a callous woman who covets her successful career and ordered life. But Amanda's seamless world crumbles when she picks up antiques that transport her to the past, revealing the heartbreaking stories of their origins. Her obsession with the phenomenon pulls her into a downward spiral of addiction that entwines both ruin and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Thornton
• Release date: Apr 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476144122

Susan Thornton

Susan Thornton is an independent Writer/Director. In addition to production work, she also enjoys the art of writing fiction. She relishes getting lost in a book, dancing when no one is looking, digging in the earth, an impassioned political discussion, sports, movies, theatre, and most of all ~ her family.

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From Time to Time

By

Susan Thornton

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Susan Thornton

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is dedicated to the Fab Four, the circle that keeps me connected to all that’s right. Special thanks to THS for the inspiration that brought the story.

Chapter One

Rain steadily poured on her office window and Amanda Winfield was distracted with thoughts of the weather being as dreary as the interview she was currently giving. Amanda’s countenance contradicted her personality. At first glance, she appeared a precious creature with chiseled porcelain features, a mane of soft blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, but her extraordinary beauty was not complimented by the virtue of patience. She was a harsh woman with unrealistic expectations and a propensity for passing judgment on those she deemed incompetent. The bookish young writer sitting across the massive expanse of her mahogany desk had the misfortune of being assigned a feature story for Baltimore Magazine on the owner of the flourishing, home-grown headhunting firm, Heads Up. She was sure if her editor had known how arrogant Amanda Winfield was, he would never have considered giving her the exposure. But numbers were the catalyst for the attention and the young writer was quickly learning, with some people, success in business trumped decency. After turning the page to a clean sheet in her note pad, before she could get the next question out, Amanda took control. Not concerned about subtlety, she looked at her watch, I’m going to have to cut this short, it’s getting late and I have work to do. The two women had been talking for less than ten minutes and the abrupt withdrawal blindsided the fledgling journalist. She quickly scanned her notes and questioned if she had enough material to write a decent story. If it were up to her, she would walk away and deep six the idea, but her editor made the assignment and she would be expected to come back with something. She pushed for a little more time, Well, could you just give me one more comment about your personal life, what you do with your spare time? The question instantly made Amanda defensive. Her business was a towering success, but she had no personal life to talk about. Her biting personality and superior attitude alienated most of the people she came in contact with.

I fail to see what that has to do with this interview, snapped Amanda.

For the, the human interest side of it, returned the writer incredulously, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

That is none of yours, or anyone else’s business.

The writer tried to reassure her, Every story has a personal angle.

Amanda stood, Not this one. You can see yourself out.

As she hastily walked through the reception area, anxious for the liberation of the front door, the young writer very discretely wiped tears from her eyes before anyone could notice. Trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism, she threw a thank you over her shoulder to Lauren, the cute blonde stationed at the front desk. Her exit was an escape and Lauren knew why. Landing the reception job for Heads Up fresh out of college, Lauren had worked for Amanda for over a year now and understood the intimidation that weighed the girl down as she left. She could feel that familiar tension Amanda was famous for creating. Lauren was a sweet girl and didn’t use the word lightly, but she was again reminded that Amanda Winfield was a bitch. The pangs of guilt that accompanied the thought quickly subsided when she considered Amanda’s overbearing personality. Justification for the harsh judgment against her boss was easy to come by.

Lauren walked into Amanda’s office for the weekly staff meeting and went straight to the front line, stretched over the barrier of her over-sized desk, and handed Amanda a message. While you were in the interview, Dr. Robinson called to remind you about lunch. With an audibly annoyed exhale, Amanda gnashed, I forgot about that.

Do you want me to cancel it?

Barely audible, Amanda stared at the note, I wish I could, then gave her full attention to Lauren, No, he’s an old family friend, I have to go.

Lauren sat down at a small writing table situated next to Amanda’s desk and prepared to take notes. The remaining four employees slipped in the door and took up their posts around the room like soldiers settling in bunkers, preparing for battle. The mêlée would ensue amidst a field of cold, stiff, leather furniture; Amanda’s décor was much like her persona. Any encounter with her felt like conflict and the room was thick with dislike. The weekly staff meeting was a necessary evil of employment at Heads Up, and the capable, thirty-something agents, Sarah, Michael and Dennis, dreaded the next hour of their day. The person who made their jobs bearable was the last one through the door, Donna Williams, the office savior, the only woman in the world patient enough to brave the position of Amanda’s Office Manager and Executive Assistant. She protected the staff and positioned herself as the buffer, cushioning the blows of an unreasonable tyrant. A stunning black woman, Donna looked much younger than her thirty five years and her strong structure was enviable. She was the first employee Amanda hired five years earlier when her vision for a burgeoning headhunting and executive search business was created. Over the years Donna worked diligently to smooth over and humanize the mechanism of Amanda Winfield. Again today she would have to do some damage control with the writer from the magazine, evident by Amanda’s first words when she walked into the meeting, Donna, tell those people at the Baltimore Magazine, if they want any more stories, no more rookies. And tell them I want to see the article before it runs. Dennis shot a furtive glance at Sarah and rolled his eyes. Donna made a note to call the writer as soon as she got out of the meeting.

Amanda walked into the Hopkins Club for her lunch date and a proficient Maitre d’ greeted her by name, then escorted her to a table for two, where Dr. John Robinson, a Professor of Mathematics at Johns Hopkins, was patiently waiting. John, a distinguished looking man of sixty-five, was the very picture of the aging intellectual in his smart grey sport coat and bright red bow tie. He stood as she approached the table and leaned in to kiss her. Amanda’s response was tinted with distaste as she stiffly offered her cheek then quickly sat down before he could help her with her chair.

Without losing a beat Amanda immediately took control of the conversation, I have to tell you up front, John, I’m right in the middle of an important contract at work and I’m going to have to make this a quick lunch. After no response from John, Amanda added, with a self-conscious tone, Why are you looking at me like that? Feeling melancholy, John offered, I just can’t get over it, you look more like your mother every time I see you. You have her beauty, Amanda. Staggered by the comment, Amanda tried to laugh it off.

Well, hopefully that’s the only thing I got from her.

To her great relief, their well-groomed waiter derailed the current topic when he approached the table for their drink order. After confirming a San Pellegrino for her and the house white wine for him, Amanda regained control of the conversation, It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten together and I know you didn’t ask me to lunch to talk about my looks. Expecting nothing less than her direct manner, John gave her a satisfied smile, I’ve recommended you as a candidate for The Board of Directors for the Hopkins Foundation, and the feedback I’m getting so far is very positive. They’re comfortable with the idea of a Winfield on the board again.

Amanda bitingly jumped on the news.

I wish you would have asked me first.

In disbelief, John fired back, It’s an honor just to be nominated, Amanda. You should be flattered. Think how proud your father would be of you, you’d be walking in his footsteps. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Feeling justified in her response, Amanda bristled, "It’s an opportunity for me to be even more bogged-down with obligations to fill and meetings to attend. Thinking he could talk some sense into her, John pressed on, Amanda, do you realize you would be the third generation of Winfields to sit on this board? I don’t know if you remember, but your grandfather preceded your father. Openings don’t come along that often. This is a rare privilege to give something back. Amanda checked her anger for a moment, realizing what she was passing up and said in a softer tone, At this point in my life, I don’t do anything that doesn’t benefit my business. I’ve been very successful, John, and my company is continuing to grow and I don’t want anything to sidetrack me. Honestly, I don’t have the time. Reluctant to let the idea go, Dr. Robinson changed direction. Well, I’m going to give you some time to think about it, I’m not going to take this as your final answer. He thought about her reasoning and felt compelled to recognize her success, And congratulations on your business. Although it sounds to me like you’re falling into that famous Winfield pitfall of being a workaholic. With the bitterness creeping back into her voice, Amanda recalled, Well, I guess that’s better than being an alcoholic."

Dr. Robinson returned a sad and meaningful glance then quickly averted his gaze, Yes, I suppose it is.

Amanda obsessively turned a pencil end over end on the surface of her desk as she talked on the phone. I’m flying out tonight and will meet you at your office by 8:00 tomorrow morning. At this point, the strongest candidate is Reinhart, but let’s reserve judgment until after the final interviews. It was obvious the man on the other end of the phone had complete confidence in Amanda’s ability and he fed her already inflated ego. In a self-satisfied tone, she guaranteed, Rest assured, you’ll have your VP by Friday. Amanda continued to cradle the receiver after their goodbye and hit the line to Donna’s desk. Donna, I need you to do the follow up calls for Thomas and Reinhart. Also, make dinner reservations for two at the hotel for tomorrow night. This contract needs my undivided attention, make sure no one bothers me with little details while I’m away. Just handle whatever comes in.

Exhausted from several days of travel, Amanda unlocked the door to her apartment, walked directly to her office, set her bags down next to her desk and pushed the button on her answering machine. Donna’s voice could be heard on the recording, Amanda, we had a little trouble with the Lexington account today. Call me at home and I’ll fill you in. We’ll be out late tonight but I’ll be home all day Saturday. Looking at the digital clock on her desk, Amanda realized why she was so hungry, it was after ten and she hadn’t eaten dinner.

Pulling the plastic serving tray of steaming chicken and rice out of the microwave, Amanda made her way to the kitchen table where she had her mail meticulously stacked in front of her place setting. It was her routine to go through mail during dinner and with several days worth accumulated, tonight the task would cover the entire meal. She always regretted coming to the last envelope, especially if she hadn’t finished eating. There was something intensely pathetic about eating alone and Amanda, who normally coveted her independence, was aware of her pitiable state. Having mail to examine during dinner gave her a job to do, and when there was work to be done, there was no need for socialization. Tonight, Amanda had plenty of business to attend to, a stack of mail that guaranteed a meal with purpose.

Impatiently staring at the clock, Amanda picked up the phone the second the bright red digital numbers jumped to eight a.m. Donna and her husband, Joe, were startled awake by the unexpected ring of the phone next to their bed. Donna jumped to pick it up before another obnoxious blast disturbed their peaceful Saturday morning. Hello? Yes I’m up. Can you hold on just a minute? Donna tried to gingerly slip out of bed to take the cordless phone and call to another room so she wouldn’t disturb Joe, but it was too late. Pissed-off about the early call after a late night, Joe, a mountainous man who had the by-product of a powerful physique