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“How may I help you?” one of the receptionists asked.
“I’m here to see Nigel Johns, and no, I do not have an appointment.”
“Who may I say is here?”
“Regina Gibson.”
“Does he know what you’re here about?”
“I believe he does.”
“He has someone in his office right now, but as soon as he’s free, I’ll let him know. Please have a seat.”
The receptionist gestured toward the waiting area, but Regina didn’t feel like sitting down.
“Can I get you coffee, a soda?”
“No, thank you.”
She remained standing but moved off to the side.
She spotted the door marked Nigel Johns from her spot in front of the receptionist’s desk, and though she didn’t have an appointment, she moved right for it when she saw it swing open. Her orange capris, African-print chemise tank and flat gold sandals may not fit in with the decor, but her anger made her more than assertive.
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