Right In Between (When you're torn between desire and duty of gratitude)

"Good morning, Mr. Stout!" Emma called out, stepping from her cream-colored Porsche into the company's large courtyard. She barely paused before sliding back behind the wheel. "Yeah, Emma darling! How was your night?" he yelled after the accelerating car. She gave a quick wave as the Porsche purred away. Dallas had been good to Emma Cliff these past six years since leaving Houston. As a senior member of the Customer Care Committee at 'It's All Kids', she thrived in the chaos. The company, famous for toys ranging from finger-sized miniatures to life-sized giants, was about to unleash its annual 'All Week Open Store!!!' event. Thousands would swarm the stores for free toys – and Emma was ready. The relentless pace was her refuge, a welcome distraction from the past. 'Emmanuella Heathcliff' was buried. 'Emmanuella Cliff' was her armor, shielding her from the hell associated with 'Heath'. Just 'Emma' suited her fine; other nicknames carried echoes she couldn't bear. Arriving at the main building, Emma emerged from her car, instantly drawing eyes. Years of attention, fueled by her striking presence, had made it background noise. She paused, glancing up at the massive billboard. There she was, beaming alongside children playing with giant stuffed animals. Her role connected her daily with parents and kids – a connection she genuinely cherished. She loved children. Her beauty was undeniable. Her sunny brown hair, that darkened to near-black from a distance, was pulled into a sleek, professional bun that somehow tamed its natural vibrancy. An elegantly sculpted oval face balanced on a slender neck. Features precise and captivating: warm brown eyes under matching brows, a sharp nose, and naturally peach-colored lips that was sexy without trying to be. Her figure, showcased in an offensively blue strapless gown that hugged every curve, seemed ripped from a luxury catalogue. Slender legs accentuated her silhouette, and her skin glowed like polished silk. Completing the 'BOSS' aura were flat-heeled black shoes, a black jacket slung loosely over one arm, and a boxy handbag dangling from her wrist. People stared. They always did. At 22, she’d outpaced most of her mates: having achieved a sprawling mansion, a Porsche, house staff, a wardrobe to envy, a fat bank account, a job she adored, and Perkins – her 'somewhat' boyfriend. Inside the cool hallway, she shrugged on her jacket, offering brief waves to passing colleagues. Her secretary, Mandy, materialized instantly, eyes wide as if Emma were a fascinating new exhibit. "Good morning, ma'am!" Mandy chirped, falling into step beside her. Their heels clicked a rapid, synchronized rhythm on the polished tiles heading towards the elevator. "How's today shaping up?" "Hectic. Obviously." Emma replied briskly. "Files prepped?" "Yes! And I heard traffic's apocalyptic already – every road into Dallas is clogged!" Mandy bubbled with excitement. "Really?" Emma’s tone was flat. "Oh, yes! Everyone's converging here," Mandy gushed, undeterred. "Not just for the toys! Half the crowd wants a glimpse of the legendary Miss Emma Cliff! Honestly, I'm thrilled – today's my lazy day! Just managing appointment files while you handle the real work and charm the masses. Oh! And there's that exclusive post-meeting with the premium clients paying top dollar for the billboard spot. You won't mind if I maybe just..." "Would you let me breathe?" Emma cut in sharply as they reached her office door. "Honestly, Mandy, what a magpie I've got!" The words weren't cruel, but they punctured Mandy's enthusiasm balloon. The secretary wilted. "Sorry, ma'am. Coffee?" "Please," Emma dismissed her, already moving to hang her jacket on the back of her swivel chair. She positioned herself under the AC vent, savoring the cool air before the storm. Her cell phone buzzed. "Hello, Perkins," she answered, her voice dripping with practiced boredom. "Good morning, honey! How's my favorite baby girl?" His smooth voice oozed through the speaker. "Fine. You?" "Sweetness overload just hearing your voice, darling." Emma suppressed a sigh. "Perkins, cut to the chase. Why the call?" "Just checking on my delightfully bossy girlfriend. Lunch?" "No. Buried in work today." "Like always, right?" "Today, especially. Open Store week. Ring a bell?" "So... mind if I swing by? Offer moral support? Muscle?" His tone was hopeful. "More like 'offer distraction and annoyance'? Yes, Perkins, I would mind. A lot. Stay away from my office today." "And forever?" he teased, trying to lighten her mood. "Wholly accepted. Feel free to keep off forever." Her retort was swift. Perkins' frustration surfaced. "If half the girlfriends on earth were this harsh..." "Then their boyfriends wouldn't be such colossal pains in the ass!" she shot back before he could finish. "Whatever you say, Em. I love you more than you love a ton of blueberry muffins," he attempted, shifting to patronizing charm. "I should not be compared to muffins," she protested, though a flicker of amusement touched her lips. "You're impossible. Thank God I'm tough enough. This is what obscene wealth does to a woman. Bet you'd be sweeter without the shackles." His jibe was light, but pointed. "Oh, Perkins," she sighed dramatically. "I'm late. You gibber a lot. One more word and I'll ban calls during work hours too." "You've already banned visits! Ban calls? Sounds like you're hiding something, sweetheart." His suspicion was playful but probing. Emma rolled her eyes heavenward, lowering her voice. "You know I love your ridiculous, stubborn foolishness. But right now, I have to go." "I don't grant permission." "Didn't ask for it." She hit 'end' with a satisfying stab. A soft hiss escaped her, followed by a reluctant smile. Keeping Perkins on his toes was a perverse pleasure. She did love him, more than a little sometimes, but she'd learned to cage those overwhelming feelings after the wreckage of her high school years. Loving Perkins Hopkins had shown her she could be loved again. She grabbed her jacket just as Mandy reappeared with a steaming mug. "Miss Cliff? Your coffee?" Mandy blinked, bewildered. Emma strode past without a word, jacket swinging over her shoulder. In the bustling hallway, she almost collided with Mr. Menefee. He'd been holding the fort since his wife, the actual CEO, went on maternity leave six months ago. "Good morning, sir. Apologies, running slightly behind," Emma offered smoothly. "No trouble at all, dearie," Mr. Menefee beamed. "The pre-Open Store meeting committee was quite content to wait for our star attraction." He gave an easy shrug. "Think they enjoyed the extra coffee time." "Apologies again, sir," Emma insisted. "Truly unnecessary," he waved it off. Then, casually, "Say, Emma... do you happen to know a Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff?" Emma froze. Her feet rooted to the spot, her mouth falling open slightly. 'How?' A cold wave washed over her. 'How did they find me here?' "Miss Cliff?" Mr. Menefee's voice pulled her back from the sudden void. "Oh! N-no," she stammered, forcing her voice level, snapping her mouth shut. "Doesn't ring a bell. Why do you ask?" She gripped her suit jacket, knuckles whitening. "They paid a... substantial fee," Mr. Menefee explained, oblivious to her inner earthquake. "For an exclusive post-Open Store meeting with the full Customer Care Board. And..." he paused, checking his notes, "...a private session with you specifically." "What?!" The word tore from her, louder than intended, her eyes wide with disbelief this time. Mr. Menefee frowned slightly. "Problem?" "No, sir," Emma managed, plastering on a tight smile, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Just... surprised. Very surprised." She forced her legs to move, continuing towards the conference room. She had planned a blissful, day filled with children and toys and controlled pandemonium. She would not let anything spoil it. Especially not ghosts. It might not even be them', she told herself fiercely, pushing down the rising dread. It couldn't be.