A few minutes till five, the receptionist called to inform Ivy that Mrs Kane was on her way up. Ivy shot to her feet.
Ivy pushed open the door to Winn's office. "Mr. Kane," she blurted, "your mum is on her way up."
Winn looked up from the file in his hands. "What? Why?" He raked a hand through his hair.
Ivy shrugged, her lips pressing into a thin line. She couldn't help the sarcastic tilt of her brow. How am I supposed to know? she thought.
"I'll send her in," Ivy said instead. She paused to calm herself with a deep breath before stepping back into the open floor.
Mrs. Kane was already approaching, her entrance commanding. Anna Kane wore elegance: a blouse the color of ivory cream, pearls that whispered old money, and a pencil skirt. The faintest scent of Chanel trailed in her wake, making Ivy feel suddenly underdressed despite her carefully pressed work attire.
