She Thought I Was an Intern
“Employees use the elevators around the corner.”
The woman in front of me put one hand against the elevator door before I could step inside.
I looked at her hand, then at her face.
She was probably in her mid-thirties, perfectly dressed in a navy sheath dress and pointed heels, with an employee badge clipped neatly at her waist.
CAMILLE REED — EXECUTIVE OFFICE.
I knew the name.
My husband’s executive assistant.
I just had never met her.
“I’m going to the twenty-fourth floor,” I said.
“I heard you.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly.
“This elevator is for senior leadership.”
It was 8:07 on a Monday morning at the downtown Chicago headquarters of Montalvo Holdings, the company my husband’s family had controlled for three generations.
And technically, it was my first morning as its new CEO.
The announcement wouldn’t go company-wide until nine.
I had deliberately arrived early wearing black pants, flats, and a plain gray blouse because I wanted an hour to walk through the building without a crowd following me.
Apparently, that made me look like an intern.
Camille pointed toward the main elevator bank.
“Those are for staff.”
I looked past her.
There was actually a brass plaque beside the elevator.
EXECUTIVE ACCESS.
I had worked for Montalvo on and off for twelve years. I had never seen it before.
“Is that a company policy?”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Are you questioning me?”
“I’m asking.”
“Then here’s your answer. Yes.”
She pressed the call button again.
“And if you’re planning to last here, I’d suggest you learn how things work before you start challenging people who can make your job very difficult.”
I almost told her my name.
Then something on her left wrist caught the overhead light.
A white ceramic watch.
Rose-gold bezel.
Tiny diamond markers.
I stopped looking at her face.
There were only 250 of those watches made.
I knew because I had spent three months trying to find one.
My mother-in-law, Evelyn Montalvo, had admired it in a magazine before her seventieth birthday. My husband, Andrew, had been traveling to New York, so I sent him the dealer’s information and asked him to pick it up.
He told me he had.
Then, two days before Evelyn’s birthday, he said the dealer had made a mistake and sold it to another customer.
We bought Evelyn a bracelet instead.
That had been eleven months earlier.
Now the watch was on Camille Reed’s wrist.
“That’s beautiful,” I said.
She glanced down.
Her smile returned.
“It was a gift.”
“From someone here?”
She gave me a look that made it clear she thought I was being nosy.
Then she leaned closer.
“Andrew Montalvo.”
My husband.
She tapped her badge against the reader.
The elevator opened.
“Now use the employee elevators before I decide your first day should also be your last.”
She stepped inside.
Before the doors could close, a man called from behind me.
“Lauren?”
Camille froze.
I turned around.
Andrew was standing twenty feet away.
He had two board members with him.
He looked at me, then at Camille, then at the watch on her wrist.
His face lost its color.
Camille gave a small laugh.
“Andrew, thank God. This intern has been arguing with me for five minutes.”
Nobody moved.
I looked at my husband.
“Tell her who I am.”
Andrew opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
“Andrew.”
Camille’s smile disappeared.
He finally cleared his throat.
“Lauren is my wife.”
Camille stared at me.
I waited.
Andrew looked toward the two board members.
“And as of this morning, she’s the new chief executive officer of Montalvo Holdings.”
Camille slowly lowered her hand from the elevator controls.
I looked at her watch again.
Then at Andrew.
“Interesting morning.”
The Watch Andrew Couldn’t Explain
The official announcement happened fifty minutes later.
By then, Camille had apologized twice.
Andrew had apologized three times.
Neither apology answered the question I actually cared about.
We were alone in my new office when I finally asked him.
“Why is she wearing Evelyn’s watch?”
Andrew stood near the window with his hands in his pockets.
“It isn’t Evelyn’s watch.”
“There were 250 made.”
“Then Camille has one of the other 249.”
I waited.
Andrew looked away.
That was enough.
“She said you gave it to her.”
“Lauren, today is your first day as CEO. Do you really want to start it with this?”
I stared at him.
“With what?”
He exhaled.
“Jealousy.”
That word bothered me more than I expected.
Not because I was jealous.
Because it sounded prepared.
I had known Andrew for fourteen years and been married to him for nine. When he was nervous, he talked faster.
That morning, he was speaking very carefully.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
His head snapped toward me.
“No.”
“Then explain the watch.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Not today.”
Then he walked out.
At 10:15, I held my first executive meeting.
The first thing I changed had nothing to do with Andrew.
“Remove the executive elevator restrictions.”
Our head of operations looked confused.
“What restrictions?”
I turned toward him.
“The badge-controlled elevators in the east lobby.”
He frowned.
“Those elevators aren’t restricted by title.”
The room became quiet.
I looked at Camille.
She was sitting against the wall taking notes.
“Apparently they are.”
Camille closed her notebook.
“It was an efficiency measure.”
“Who approved it?”
“The executive office.”
“Whose signature?”
She hesitated.
Andrew stepped in.
“Lauren, this is getting unnecessarily personal.”
I looked at him.
Then I looked at our general counsel.
“Remove the restrictions today.”
He nodded.
“Done.”
