Authors: Lynne Silver
Seasoned employees had warned her to stay close to the perimeter, never stand in the middle of a main aisle, and avoid looking people in the eye. It would only lead to bad things like requests to look for missing pieces on the highest shelf in the stock room.
She was desperate to scoot out and head home for some sleep. She kept reminding herself the money would be worth it. She was saving every penny toward college applications. Working the holiday weekend was a huge benefit, even if she did want to curl into a ball and hide in the employee lunchroom. She stifled a yawn and started for the next aisle to restack all the Barbies. Crowds of people still thronged the store and many brushed by her without an “excuse me.”
“Michelle?”
She looked up to see an older woman with highlighted brown curls looking at her inquisitively.
“Yes, how may I help you?”
“Are you Michelle?”
She frowned, wondering why the woman needed her name, but pointed to the name tag on her chest. “Yes, I’m Michelle.”
The woman put her head down and bellowed into her cell phone. “She’s here. In toys. I found her.”
Michelle took a quick step back and reached for the employee walkie-talkie at her hip, ready to call for backup.
The woman looked up at her with a warm smile. “We’ve covered practically the entire store looking for you, and here you are in toys. Ooh, perhaps they’ll have something on sale for my grandchildren.” She turned to eye the hot-pink display and picked up a Malibu Barbie. “This looks nice.”
Michelle’s feet felt glued to the floor while her brain shouted for her to run from this crazy woman who’d been hunting for her in every aisle. “Ma’am, you were looking for me?”
The woman smiled at her. “Oh, he’ll be along in a jiffy to explain. I think you should listen. The good ones are few and far between.”
“The good ones?” The woman’s cryptic behavior became clear as Sark came jogging up with a black backpack bouncing over his shoulder.
“Michelle,” he gasped out. “You’re here.”
Any words she could formulate got stuck on her suddenly dry tongue. Why was Sark here? She’d hugged him good-bye forty-eight hours ago, but it felt longer. As if they’d been away from each other for decades, and she’d missed him terribly. Her mother’s pumpkin pie had tasted like sandpaper in her mouth. And now here he was. Her heart danced in her chest.
“I’m supposed to be here,” she said. “What are
you
doing here?”
“I flew here to win you back. I was miserable yesterday. My mother practically threw me out of Thanksgiving dinner to come get you. Please, don’t give up on your dreams, Michelle. Don’t give up on me.”
Michelle stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Sark was here. At Walmart. In Minsker. On Black Friday.
“Michelle?”
She shook her head, as if to clear out the buzzing that interfered with her brain functionality. If she understood correctly, Sark thought she’d quit LightWave to work at Walmart.
He must have misunderstood her silence as a rejection because he started pleading. “Michelle, please. I know I messed up big-time writing you a note. I should’ve told you I was Noah Frellish in person, but I promise to never hide anything from you again. In fact you’re the first person I’m telling this to. I’m leaving LightWave. You were right, I can’t continue being shot down there. If the board won’t give the go-ahead on my dream project, then I’ll do it without them. I’m leaving to start a new company and I want you there with me. I’m fed up with the company and I’m miserable without you, Michelle.”
She tried to stop his outpouring, but he kept talking. “I can’t pay much, but we’ll get good financial backers and plenty of buzz going. And there will be stock options. If we ever go public, you could be a wealthy woman.”
From the corner of her eye she could see the older woman grinning wildly and giving her a thumbs-up.
“Sark. I didn’t give up.”
He stopped ticking off points of his business plan. “What?”
“I didn’t give up. I’m only working here to earn a little extra money to go to college.”
He froze and a slow smile spread across his face. “For real? You’re going to college? You’re not moving back home?”
She shook her head. “After you drove me to the bus, I realized that as much as I loved working in the city, I’d never be satisfied until I have a full degree. So I’m going to college. I don’t have anything finalized yet, but I knew I’d need every penny I could get, so I’m here working the busiest shopping day of the year.”
“That’s amazing.” He reached to grab her for a hug, and she let him, trying not to soften against him, but it was tempting. Finally she pushed back to stare up at him.
“You’re going to do it? You’ll really leave LightWave?”
He took a visible breath. “It’s craziness. I can’t let go of my dream to create software that works with electronic devices to charge them without traditional electricity.”
She nodded and smiled. His idea was mind-blowing if it could ever work.
“The board saying no is unacceptable to me. And you won’t date me as long as I’m CEO. I plan on offering my resignation on Monday.” They grinned at each other.
“So, say something. Do you think I’m insane?” he asked.
“No crazier than I am for leaving a job to go back to college. I’m twenty-five, Sark. I’ll be the oldest freshman there.”
“Probably not. And I think it’s wonderful. But are you sure I can’t convince you to join my start-up?”
“I’m flattered, Sark. But don’t you need super-experienced people? I have a high school degree and a few classes toward a marketing certificate.”
“You have enthusiasm and a great work ethic. In a start-up that’s half the battle. Didn’t anyone tell you, start-ups are for insane people winging it on a prayer and the willingness to do any task to make it succeed? I believe in you. Plus, there’s no reason you can’t work part-time for me
and
go to school.” Sark stared at her with an intent look. “Please Michelle, please say yes.”
Michelle held her breath and looked past his glasses into his deep brown eyes. The older woman who’d accompanied Sark to the store interrupted her whirling thoughts. “So, honey, what are you going to do? Will you give him another chance?”
She ignored the woman and smiled at Sark. “Yes. Yes, I’ll start the company with you.” As soon as she said it, she felt the rightness of it. Sark was a good guy. A great guy who could be trusted. Something deep in her knew this instinctively. She stepped toward his open arms, ready to kiss him into oblivion.
“Uh, excuse me, Mickey Mouse. I hate to interrupt the little nerd convention you’ve got going on here, but someone vomited in linens. You need to go clean it,” Missy McQueen, Michelle’s nemesis from high school and current manager, said as she stomped over.
Sark looked at Missy as though she had two heads and green skin. Michelle started to respond to her shift manager, but at that glorious moment three guys from the electronics team sprinted over. “Dude! You’re Noah Frellish! Can we get a picture? In our department?” They started to guide him over to the cell phone display.
Sark stared at her with a bemused expression but allowed them to lead him away.
She smiled at the sight of Sark blushing and responding to questions from the other tech lovers. With a deep breath she leaped into her new role. “Gentlemen, Mr. Frellish is unable to take pictures in front of a store display. I’m sure you understand why, but he’d be happy to autograph your personal phones.”
The three guys dropped Sark’s arm and their eyes lit up. “Yeah, sign my phone.”
“Awesome.”
Sark shot her a grateful look.
Missy stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her toe like a creature out of a comic. “Mickey Mouse, do you know how many strings I pulled to get you on the shift at the last minute? You need to go deal with the vomit.”
Michelle turned to face her childhood nemesis. “You know what, Queenie, why don’t
you
go take care of the mess? I quit.” She strode over to Sark, stood on tiptoe, and yanked him into a heated kiss that had the store guys whooping and snapping pictures, no doubt to post to their Facebook pages. Didn’t matter.
All cards were on the table. There would be no more hiding.
Epilogue
Michelle grinned at the reflection in the mirror of her in a navy cap and gown. She adjusted the gold silk tassels that hung around her neck.
“Wait, something’s caught on the end.” Sark, dressed in a navy suit, stepped over to lift the end and fiddle with it. “I can’t untangle it. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
She looked down, frowning. What could be caught? They were going to be late if they didn’t get moving. Her parents would freak out if she wasn’t there to get her diploma when her name was called. Not to mention, after years of busting her butt both working and going to school, she refused to miss the culmination for anything.
And then she gasped. An emerald-cut diamond ring winked at her from where Sark had looped it onto the tassel. Gently, lovingly, she slid it off the rope and held it in shaking fingers.
Sark plucked it from her and started to put it on her ring finger. “Michelle Kolson, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
She was unable to see him clearly through the tears that filled her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. Then more clearly, “Yes.”
His smile spread from ear to ear and he lowered his head for a deep kiss. “I love you. Forever.” And then in typical Sark fashion, he pulled out his phone and glanced at it with a frown. “And now we have to get going. You can’t be late for the ceremony in a gymnasium named after you.”
Michelle grinned, never tired of hearing the tangible proof of their success. Sark had done it. He’d created the breakthrough software that allowed cell phones to charge without cords. The industry, the whole world, really, had gone wild. She’d been along for the ride, all the ups and downs of it, and now it looked as though they’d be starting a whole new adventure together.
Acknowledgements
To the Entangled crew for being enthusiastic about everything. Thank you to the board for making my corporate days such fun and providing the backdrop for this story.
Author Bio
By day, Lynne Silver lives the suburban soccer mom life: volunteering with the PTA, doing laundry, and working. By night she enters the sensuous world of alpha males and passionate heroines.
She calls the nation’s capital home and lives in an old fixer-upper with her husband and their two sons. When not writing romance, she reads it. Lots of it. Over and over and over again, preferably with a bag of M&M’s in hand.