The Invitation
1409 Words
“You enjoy embarrassing people?”
Anne Wheeler looked up from the conference table, completely calm, like the question hadn’t surprised her one bit.
The older executive across from her sounded irritated, which felt unfair, considering he was the one losing the argument.
Anne smiled politely. “Only the ones who deserve it. Lucky for you, that’s everyone in this room.”
A laugh burst out from the back before someone slapped a hand over their mouth.
Mr. Carlton’s jaw tightened. “This projection is unrealistic.”
Anne slid the report back. “Page six.”
“What?”
“Page six. The part you skipped before telling me my numbers were wrong. Happens to the best of us. Mostly you, though.”
One employee suddenly got very interested in his laptop, hiding a grin.
Carlton flipped pages so hard one almost ripped. Anne just sipped her coffee, completely unbothered.
“There,” she said. “Second chart. It was hiding from you. I know, sneaky little chart.”
The room stayed quiet while he scanned it once, then again, then said nothing at all.
Anne took another sip. “Want a minute alone with the spreadsheet? I’ll wait outside.”
Another laugh slipped out, louder this time.
Carlton looked up sharply. “You think you’re funny?”
“I think you’re about to lose an argument to a chart. That’s funnier than anything I could say.”
Jordan, her junior analyst, snorted into his water bottle.
Carlton snapped the file shut. “You’re very confident for someone your age.”
“And you’re very loud for someone who’s wrong,” Anne replied sweetly.
Jordan completely lost it, laughing into his sleeve. Anne handed him a water bottle without even looking away. “Breathe, buddy.”
Carlton stared at her, then laughed too, a real one. “I was warned about you.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Depends who you ask.”
“Then definitely good things.”
The tension broke completely. Anne tapped the report. “The plan works. The numbers are clean. Adapt now, or your competitors will lap you like it’s a school race.”
Carlton sighed. “Do you talk to all your clients like this?”
“No. Some of them cry. You’re doing great, comparatively.”
Twenty minutes later, the meeting ended with signed paperwork and three executives looking like they’d just lost a dodgeball game to a much smaller kid.
The second they left, Jordan flopped into the nearest chair. “Oh my God, that was amazing.”
“You survived,” Anne said, packing her files.
“You basically called him a baby.”
“He was acting like one.”
“He owns half of Texas!”
“Then half of Texas needs a nap.”
Jordan cracked up. Anne finally smiled while grabbing her bag. The office buzzed around them, phones ringing, keyboards clicking.
Wheeler Financial Consulting wasn’t huge, but it had a reputation, mostly because Anne refused to let anyone walk over it just because she was twenty-six and looked even younger when annoyed, which was often.
Before Jordan could tease her more, the office doors burst open.
“Anne!”
Nora Sefah swept in, waving a gold envelope like she’d won first place at a fair.
Anne narrowed her eyes. “Why do you always enter like you’re announcing a prize?”
“Because I am! You’re absolutely coming with me.”
Jordan stood fast. “Chaos has arrived. I’m out.”
Once he left, Nora dropped into the chair across from Anne, grinning ear to ear.
“Should I be scared?” Anne asked, eyeing the envelope.
“Very.”
Nora slid it over. Anne read it: *Cavell Group Executive Networking Event. Private Guest List. Friday Evening.*
She pushed it right back. “No.”
“You didn’t even think about it!”
“I thought about it for a whole second. That’s plenty.”
“Anne, please.”
“Why?”
“Because I work there, and every day feels like I got picked last for a team that’s actually on fire.”
That cracked Anne up before she could stop it.
“See? You’re laughing already,” Nora said.
“Doesn’t mean yes.”
“It means you love me.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Same thing.” Nora leaned forward. “Parties like this are boring without you. Everyone talks about stocks like it’s exciting. It’s not, Anne. Stocks are not exciting.”
“You own a consulting firm too, you know.”
“That’s different! That’s our boring. This is their boring.”
Anne laughed again, shaking her head. Even after six years, talking to Nora still felt like talking to a really chaotic little sister.
“You’re not leaving until I say yes, are you?”
“Nope. I packed snacks.”
Anne sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
Nora shrieked happily. “Wait, seriously?”
“Don’t make this a whole thing.”
“You never come to these!”
“Because they’re as fun as a dentist appointment.”
“Wear the black dress,” Nora said, eyes lighting up.
Anne froze. “How do you always know which dress?”
“Magic. Or I just know you really well. Probably magic, though.”
“That’s creepy.”
“It’s love.”
“Still creepy.”
Nora laughed and grabbed the invitation. “Tomorrow night. No excuses, no pretending you have a sudden cold.”
“I already regret this,” Anne said.
“You’ll survive.”
****
Across Dallas, evening had settled in, lights flicking on, traffic crawling like a slow snail. Tonight was the Cavell Group dinner.
Derrick Cavell stood at his mirror, adjusting his cufflinks, frowning at his own reflection like it had personally let him down.
“I hate these parties.”
Gerald looked up calmly from the couch. “You host half of them.”
“And I hate every single one. People wear watches worth more than a car and think talking about golf makes them interesting.”
“Wealthy men are very boring.”
“You included?”
“Never. I’m hilarious.”
Derrick grabbed his jacket. “Remind me why I have to go.”
“Investors like seeing your face.”
“They see it every day.”
“They like seeing it smile, for once.”
“No promises.”
Gerald watched him fix his jacket. “You haven’t asked the important question. How exactly Anne Wheeler ends up at your event tonight.”
Derrick paused. Right. That.
“How’d you even find her?”
“Wasn’t hard. Her best friend works for you. Nora, communications.”
“That’s like a thousand people, Gerald.”
“She got an invitation this week. With a plus-one.”
Derrick stared at him, then it clicked. “You set this whole thing up like a chess move.”
“More like checkers. It was easy.”
An hour later, the ballroom buzzed with chatter and clinking glasses. Crystal lights hung overhead, soft piano floated through the air. Derrick already wanted to leave, nodding along while a man explained oil prices like it was the plot of his favorite movie.
Then the doors opened, and everything else disappeared for a second.
Anne Wheeler walked in beside Nora, calm and unbothered, taking in the room with one quick glance. Elegant black dress. Easy confidence.
She looked up suddenly, straight at him, and whispered, “Who’s that? He looks like he walked out of a magazine and got lost.”
Nora heard her and grinned. “That’s my boss.”
Their eyes locked. Neither smiled. Neither looked away either.
“…and that’s why oil futures remain… Mr. Cavell?”
Derrick barely heard him. Anne was still watching, sharp and curious, like she was already three steps ahead of everyone in the room.
“She’s prettier than I expected,” Gerald said, appearing beside him out of nowhere, as always.
“There she is.”
Derrick looked back at Anne, and the whole plan stopped feeling like just an idea on paper. She was real now. Standing twenty feet away. Breathing. Watching him right back.
And for the first time since Gerald brought this whole thing up, Derrick realized this had just gotten very, very real.
- Writer
