Chapter 329
Effie and Lyman had been married for quite a while, but she’d never actually visited his office before. No wonder the receptionist didn’t recognize her.
Trying to keep her patience, Effie said to the receptionist, “I’m here to see Mr. Etheridge.”
The receptionist squinted at Effie, sizing her up. This woman was definitely a stranger; she’d never seen her before.
These days, men like Mr. Etheridge-handsome and wealthy-were rare gems, and women flocked to him like bees to honey. The receptionist figured Effie was just another one of those obsessed bees.
She replied coldly, “Do you have an appointment? No appointment, no entry.”
“I don’t have one,” Effie answered, “but I know Mr. Etheridge and Luther. Would you please let them know I’m here? They’ll want to see me.”
A glint of mockery flashed in the receptionist’s eyes. “Oh, sure, you know Mr. Etheridge. But does he know you? Everyone who comes here says the same thing. In the few months I’ve worked here, I’ve lost count of how many people like you I’ve had to send away. Shameless.”
Effie’s eyes narrowed, irritation flickering across her face. “I’m not trying to force my way in. Can’t you just let them know I’m here?”
“No, I can’t. If you’re so close to them, why don’t you call them yourself? Why should I do it?”
“Isn’t that your job?” Effie snapped back.
“My job is to serve Mr. Etheridge, not random people off the street,” the receptionist replied, just as snippy.
“Fine. I’ll call them myself.”
Effie had already tried calling before she came upstairs, but Lyman must have been busy-he hadn’t picked up. She tried Luther, but he didn’t answer either.
She frowned, sensing the receptionist’s eyes on her. When she glanced up, the receptionist was staring at her with a look of contempt. “What, giving up? Didn’t you say you knew them? Go on, call them. Otherwise, there’s no way I’m letting you in.”
Effie said, “They’re not picking up. But I really need to speak with Mr. Etheridge- can’t you just go in and tell him?”
“Why should I? Like I said, I don’t work for you,” the receptionist replied, picking up her phone and scrolling through it, not bothering to spare Effie another glance.
The takeout box Effie was holding was getting heavy, so she tried to set it down on the reception desk so she could keep making calls. But the receptionist suddenly looked up, her tone sharp and nasty. “Got hands, don’t you? If you make a mess, you’d better clean it up.”
“You”
“What? Run out of things to say?” the receptionist sneered and snatched the takeout bag from Effie’s hand. “Bringing this kind of stuff for Mr. Etheridge? Like he’d ever eat it. Might as well toss it straight in the trash!”
Just then, Effie’s phone rang. It was Lyman calling.
Effie answered and reached for the takeout bag at the same time. “Give that back.”
“No way, I’m throwing it out,” the receptionist said triumphantly. “If you really know Mr. Etheridge, I’ll chop off my own head and let you use it as a footstool.”
At that moment, a sweet female voice came through the phone. “Hello, is this Effie? Lyman’s busy and can’t take your call right now.”
Effie’s brow furrowed with annoyance. “Why are you answering his phone?”
Isabel’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Why do you think?”