Blowing out an exasperated sigh, Beverly ran her hands through her damp hair, glaring at the wintry mix of snow and sleet slamming against the pavement. She'd been walking through the city to stretch her legs after spending her morning in the library studying for her biology final when it had begun to sleet; desperate to get out of the slushy, freezing mess before her textbooks were damaged, she'd ducked under the nearest awning, which just so happened to belong to Silvertone.

It was just her luck, really.

In addition, her phone was dead, so she couldn't call Griffin to pick her up; she'd been debating on going inside the fancy office for the past ten minutes. On one hand, she would enjoy seeing the inside of the stunning building, and Mr. Knott had seemed kind, regardless of what Griffin had said; on the other hand, Griffin would no doubt be upset if he learned that she'd spent time around the man who'd treated his godmother so poorly.

She waited another five minutes, but the mix only came down heavier; when she lost all feeling in her glove-clad fingers, she gave up and marched through the doors.

On the outside, Silvertone was the tallest building in the city, made of sparkling glass and standing twenty stories tall. The interior was made to match, with sleek, modern décor; a large receptionist's station resided in the center of the main floor, with two large sitting areas nestled by the front door.

Beverly made eye contact with the receptionist blushingly. "I'm so sorry, but it's freezing outside—could I perhaps borrow a phone, then wait in here for my ride to come get me?"

The receptionist, a woman in her early thirties whose name tag read Frieda, scowled. "I'm not falling for this mess again. No photos, no videos, and no sneaking back here to steal information—please leave."

"Oh, no," Beverly protested immediately, "I swear that's not what I'm trying to do. I really do just need to get back to my dorm. If I could just use your cell phone—"

"Look," the receptionist leaned back in her chair, eyeing Beverly as though the younger girl had just crawled out of the sewage. "I'm not in the mood for this, okay? I enjoy my job, and I almost lost it the last time this sort of nonsense came up. If you don't have an appointment, then I'm afraid you're going to have to leave."

At the woman's words, an idea popped into Beverly's head. "I have an appointment!" the words were rushed and disjointed, and the woman obviously didn't buy it.

"Really?" Frieda asked skeptically. "And who do you have an appointment with, exactly?"

"Mr. Francis Knott."

Oh, Hell, what am I doing?!

"You have an appointment with our CEO." It was a statement dripping with sarcastic disbelief, and Beverly struggled to keep her head high and not crawl away from the building.

God, but she should've just faced the winter weather and walked back to school, cold fingers be damned.

"Yes."

The woman hummed, keeping her eyes on Beverly as she plucked up the phone next to her computer and pressed several of the buttons.

"Mr. Knott? Hi, yes, I have someone here for you? Oh, you don't have any planned appointments?" Frieda's smile was smug. "How odd. Oh, her name?" she eyed Beverly expectantly and repeated what the younger woman told her. "Beverly 'from the park'." There was a pause, and the receptionist's eyes widened.

"Really?" she asked, eyes darting between Beverly and the phone. "Right. Of course, Mr. Knott." She returned the phone to its dock with a sense of finality, then gazed at Beverly with forced remorse. "I apologize: I take security very seriously, and I've had a couple of bad incidents in the past."

Beverly smiled and hoped it didn't look fake. "It's all good; I get it. Can I make that call, now?"

"Oh, no," Frieda stood and gestured Beverly to one of the elevators that stood on either side of the desk. "Mr. Knott would like to see you in his office, actually. I'm sure you can call someone from there. He's on the next floor up, in the office at the end of the hall." She slapped the number 2 on the elevator, then shot Beverly a strained smile as the doors slid shut.

Thankfully, riding one floor up didn't take long, and Beverly stepped out several moments later. A wide hallway lined with several large offices greeted her, and she kept the receptionist's instructions in mind as she wandered forward.

Sure enough, an office reading Francis Knott, CEO sat at the very end of the hall. A sudden bout of nervousness rose in her throat, and she swallowed heavily before raising her hand to knock.

Almost immediately, the dark wooden door was swung open, and Francis Knott stood on the other side, wearing a tailored grey suit and a bright, welcoming smile. "Beverly from the park," he greeted her cheerily, "how nice to see you again. Come in, please."

She did as told, feeling terribly out of place in her battered, half-soaked clothes. "You too, Mr. Knott. I'm sorry about the sudden intrusion, though. I really just needed to make a call for a ride back to my dorm."

He waved for her to take a seat in one of the chairs settled on the opposite side of his desk, settling in his own chair and leaning forward. "It's no trouble at all." He dropped his voice to a joking whisper, "If I'm being totally honest, I was bored out of my mind, so the distraction is much appreciated. How's school?"

Ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that was frantically playing back Griffin's words ("He treated Cynthia like absolute shit . . ."), Beverly shrugged out of her backpack and dropped into the seat, glad to be off her feet. "Not bad. Finals are coming up, so I've been focusing on those. How's work?"

His grin widened, and he held out his hands in a sort of Ta-da! gesture. "Going quite splendidly, actually; I'm glad you're here to see our offices. What do you think so far?"

"It's lovely, Mr. Knott. Though, if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you on the top floor? I thought that's where most CEOs liked to be."

Mr. Knott laughed brightly, hopping up from his seat and waving for her to follow as he strode to the back wall of his office, which was made out of glass and had a less-than attractive view of a brick office building that was located directly next to it. "What do you see?" he asked.

Beverly wasn't sure what kind of game he was playing and shrugged noncommittally. "A building."

He held up one finger, as if to say Ah, but wait! "Exactly. What did you expect to see?"

"At this level? Not much, honestly."

"But at a higher level?"

"Well, I would imagine that you could see most—if not all—of the city from the top floor, since this is the tallest building. What are you trying to say?"

He bounced on the balls of his feet like an excited child. "I'm trying to say that I chose this floor for a reason. You're right about the view from the top floor, by the way; I've heard it's a sight to behold."

The answer hit Beverly with the force of a freight train. "Oh!" she laughed a little, her eyes dancing with amusement. "You're afraid of heights!"

Mr. Knott's grin was full of excitement. "Indeed. You're quite sharp, Beverly. Would you like a tour? I'm still hoping to offer you that internship, you know."

Pushing aside the voice in her head that was casting doubts—a voice that sounded suspiciously like Griffin—Beverly nodded eagerly. Surely going on a tour with the man wouldn't hurt, right? After all, her career might be counting on it.

Smile still in place, Mr. Knott stepped out of his office and waved for her to follow, leading her to the elevator and pressing the button for the tenth floor. They were shrouded in a comfortable silence, until Mr. Knott asked, "You mentioned getting a ride? Are they on their way already? I don't want to keep you from something."

"Oh, no," Beverly waved off his concerns. "I haven't contacted Griffin yet, so no worries there."

Mr. Knott didn't respond, and a quick glance at him showed Beverly that his expression was one of conflict. Swallowing thickly, he asked, "Griffin? Cynthia's godson?"

Beverly wanted to slap herself on the forehead. How could she have forgotten that Mr. Knott knew Cynthia when she'd been thinking about it only moments ago?! Of course he would know who Griffin was.

Nice job, dum-dum.

But there was nothing to be done about it now, so Beverly only nodded once. "Yes. He and I are . . ." Dating? In a committed relationship? Friends who both want more? Aw, Hell, this is difficult.

"Close," she finally settled on, rubbing her suddenly clammy palms against her thighs.

Mr. Knott seemed to realize she wasn't giving him the whole truth, but he thankfully didn't press. Instead, he broached carefully, "How is Cynthia?"

Beverly smiled at the mention of the woman, who had told her yesterday to, "Kick those finals in the ass, Miss Bev!" Griffin had been mortified, since the store had been packed with customers (all of whom had turned to stare at the older woman curiously), but Beverly had only laughed—Cynthia really was a special lady, that much was sure.

"She's just fine," she told the man beside her. "The store's doing well, so she stays pretty busy. It doesn't seem to affect her, though; she's got more energy than I've ever had."

Mr. Knott chuckled, though it was strained, and his eyes spoke of deep regret and shame. "I'm glad to hear that, truly." He shifted so he and Beverly were face-to-face, his expression somber. "Appreciate them, Beverly. They're both very strong, very unique people."

Matching his tone, Beverly nodded and said, "I will. They've done far more for me than they realize, and I won't forget that."

It wasn't a lie, either. Whether Griffin and Cynthia knew it or not, they had given Beverly the comfort of a family that she had severely missed in college; it was such a comfort, knowing there were people who cared about her as deeply as they did.

Snapping himself from whatever daze he'd fallen into, Mr. Knott took a step away from her just as the elevator stopped and opened at the tenth floor. "Good," the word was muttered, more to himself than anything, before he looked up at Beverly and said again, "Good. Now," his features shifted again, back into his original expression of excitement, "let me show you where our interns work. I think you'll really enjoy the break room—Heaven knows I do."

Beverly followed him out, her gaze scrutinizing as she watched him rush around the room, his hands flying all about as he gestured at the various devices and cubicles. Much like Griffin's past, whatever had occurred between Mr. Knott and Cynthia was big, and something she would no doubt have to be patient about. There was no guarantee she would ever learn the whole truth, but . . . well, her mom had always said: "You'd be surprised what you can gain by being patient, Beverly. Knowledge, truth, opportunities—the list goes on. So, be patient—I didn't raise a snotty, 'give me that now' brat, after all."

And so Beverly would be patient, and she would learn the truth eventually. For now, though, she would enjoy her time with Mr. Knott and study what she could about his company.