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That was an accident, she thought. Vic shot a surprised look at Gregory and stopped speaking for a moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ the man smiled. ‘Go on your presentation. It’s very interesting.’
‘…This slide consists of a new form, more advanced that, my opinion, matches the product better than the previous one.’
Gregory watched the presentation of the new project carefully. His lunch was getting cold but they both dipped into the bright display.
‘Wow!’ the man exhaled, having fixed his tie, as Victoria had finished her presentation. ‘I’m really glad that our HR employed you. This project has to be on my table by tomorrow afternoon. I approved it fully and give the go-ahead for realization of each slides.’
The girl couldn’t help smiling, listening to flattered and winy boasting in her way. Words dint fail Gregory when he heaped the girl’s efforts with expressing thanks and enthusiastic shouting. Only the next touch of his leg to hers made Victoria come back to reality.
‘I’m sorry,’ Vic thought she was to blame. ‘I should move back.’
The girl rose quickly when she felt his strong fingers squeezing her wrist.
‘Victoria, please,’ Gregory rose, languishingly looked at her eyes.
Victoria couldn’t believe neither her eyes nor her ears. What was it? The country manager asked her to stay near him… It couldn’t be.
‘I’d like,’ he added, ‘to see another project. Ludmila told me about your initiatives in the field of graphic representation of the product slogan. I’d like to see it. Do you have it?’’
‘Yes,’ the fascinated girl answered, looking into the man’s eyes.
Gregory liked madly liked her look, full of interests, misunderstanding, charming and ambitious to know. What a man wouldn’t like that? There was only one problem which the man had no idea about: Victoria was looking at a woman, standing behind Gregory’s back. Only Vic knew that woman not to be seen by anyone.
The spirit stroked the man’s shoulders, shaking off invisible flecks of dust, motherly touching his back. A smile of pain froze on her lips, the glass tears were on her cheeks. Of course, there was her son before her!
Vic clearly saw every resemblance between them: they both have the same noses, lip lines and plush, eye shape and colour, more looked like European than Russian. Having completely realized that it was a spirit of Gregory’s mother, who carried her favourite son even after the death, Vic finally looked aside, sat and opened her laptop.
‘There are only sketches here they’ve not been dotted and crossed yet.’
‘Ok, I’m ready to follow your ideas.’ Gregory smiled, sitting closer to the girl.
A half of hour had passed before they finished discussing the second project sketches. Gregory made a few simple modifications more likely for form’s sake. Victoria listened patiently to the country manager’s commentaries, finishing her tea with sea-buckthorn.
‘Well, colleague,’ Gregory found himself taking the girl by the hand and smiling.
Vic looked at his smile and more and more understood that his smile had nothing to do with job. It looked like friendly but there were barely noticeable and captured shadows of affection in moderato in value of thirty-second notes.
His hand, tenderly holding her cold, pale and tired fingers just accompanied those shadows in his smile, confirming their existence.
The spirit of the old lady, being worried about her son’s fate, frowned. Vic realized the woman looked exactly at her, straight into her face. Its gaze was unbearably heavy, painful and awful.
‘The Devil’s bride…’ Vic heard the certain whisper.
The girl looked around: people wearing suits, were busy with their lunches, from time to time saying something about business; the woman-spirit studied with a cool stare her son’s hand giving its warmth to the odious girl; songs were in French.
Who said that? Whose whisper was it? A female one? The spirit? No, it couldn’t. Its lips silently compressed.
‘The Devil’s bride…’ the same whisper sounded again.
Victoria got more frowned. She looked at the spirit of the old lady and saw her whitish discorporate hand raise and try to unclasp his fingers which had been still holding Victoria’s hand.
‘No…’ Vic murmured, having noticed being accused with the worried spirit’s eyes.
‘What did you say?’ Gregory looked at the getting nervous girl questioningly.
‘Nothing.’ Vic saw the old woman step behind the back of her son. ‘Nothing,’ Vic repeated.
‘So, I’m glad to have such a specialist working for our company. By the middle of the next week my assistant will have arranged lunch out of office. Prepare the pilot product project with your sketches, put exactly them into project originals and present it to me. Are you ok with the deadline, Vic?’
‘Yes, I’ll manage it, Mr. Dogmanov.’ Victoria adjusted her hair trying not to look at the spirit’s eyes. ‘No problem.’
‘Ok, we should go back and… It’s been a pleasure to work with you personally.’
Victoria cracked a smile and hastened to the exit to turn away from the ghost.
Time started moving again into a hurry. Victoria opened her eyes. She was at her worktop. She had been holding the plastic pen. There was almost finished sketch on the screen. It was fifteen minutes past two.
Then other fail to understand happened. What was that? How did she have to feel about it? Victoria leaned back carelessly in her chair, trying to understand what was going on in her head. Would it ever come to an end? Suddenly it had dawned upon her: it was the very time! She had to run at the meeting… again…
The girl grabbed her laptop and ran to the appointed place, fortunately she had just been there. As she appeared at the restaurant Vic saw the same tables, faces, designs and waiters. Everything was the same she had seen already. Even the music was the same! The question “what the hell” didn’t leave her mind.