It took Neville a few days to gather enough courage to knock on the door to Mataya De Luca's office. She had been more than patient with him when Nellie had died, though he had never asked for special treatment. He had, in fact, never asked for anything. He was just happy to be employed and considered himself lucky to be working at the theater, but that was before he'd met Demi and asked her to marry him.
Even when the theater was in mid-season, it was a rare week day when Mataya could not be found somewhere in the building. Neville was in luck today; she'd been pinned behind her desk by Charles, who needed her signature on various money-related issues, and that meant she was definitely open for business. She glanced up at the knock on her door. "Come on in, pull up a pew!"
Neville heard the boss lady's voice behind the door and winced a little, hoping he wasn't catching her at a bad time. "Hello," he greeted her a little bashfully as he peeked into the room. "Am I interrupting" I can come back." Or not.
Mataya's expression of studious annoyance switched up instantly into a bright smile at the sight of the nervous musician peeking around her door. "Neville! Oh, come in, you're not interrupting anything," she said confidently, putting down the paper she was reading to give him her full attention. "You're in early, aren't you?"
"A little bit, yes. If you have a moment, there's something I'd like to talk to you about," he started, edging further into the room and closing the door quietly behind him. He didn't yet take a seat, though he knew it was expected of him.
"I always make time for my people," Mataya insisted, raising a brow above her smile. "Sit down, I won't bite you. To be honest, it's a relief to catch a break from all the reading." She chuckled cheerfully.
"I can imagine," he said, knowing it must take a lot of work to keep the theater running smoothly, and here he was there to pester her about something. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I know you must be busy," he apologized again, clearly nervous. No, he wasn't going to turn in his resignation or anything like that.
"I'm never too busy for my people," she nodded firmly. "Now sit down, and tell me what I can do for you. You're not interrupting anything, and you don't need to apologize."
He took a seat in the chair opposite her, folding his hands neatly in his lap - hands that were his bread and butter, whether it was playing the piano or the cello. "I'm probably being a little presumptious, and I don't want to put you on the spot, but I'm wondering if it would be at all possible to get an advance on my salary." There, he'd said it. The worst she could say was no.
Surprised by the request, but not unpleasantly so, Mataya's smile gentled as she studied him for a moment. "I'd need to know what reason you have for asking, Neville," she told him, almost apologetically. "Advances on salary are generally for specialised circumstances, such as family needs."
"You're right. I should just apply for a loan," he said, moving to his feet. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, ma'am. It won't happen again," he told her with a strained smile, privately cursing himself for being so stupid.
"That wasn't a no, Neville," Mataya pointed out with a smile, pointing to the chair for him to take a seat once again. "I said generally, not always. And I am exceedingly nosy, though I promise you that your reasons will not leave this office. If you're in some kind of trouble, let me help. Even if you're not, let me help. Just tell me what you need."
He paused, turning back and retaking his seat, though he was feeling ridiculously humbled by asking in the first place. "I'm not in any trouble. In fact, things are going rather well. That's why I'm here really. I know it's rather sudden, but I met someone recently."
Never let it be said that Mataya De Luca was slow on the uptake. She knew enough about Neville Ashton to understand the implication in what little he had told her, and a slow smile touched her lips. "Oh, I see," she nodded. "Congratulations." One hand rummaged through the papers on her desk for her cheque-book.
"Thanks," he replied, a soft smile brightening his face a little, though he was still feeling awkward. He'd never asked anyone for anything before, and he didn't really like asking now. "I wouldn't ask except, well ....things have been difficult since Nellie died." He didn't want to get into a long explanation of the financial woes that had followed draining what meager nestegg he'd managed to save. "The truth is, I'm getting married again, and I'd like to buy her a ring. Nothing too extravagant, mind you, but something nice. I just need a few weeks' advance pay, and I think I can do it," he explained.
Mataya's smile deepened as he spoke, truly delighted for him, but she knew enough not to make a fuss as she might have done for someone else. "How about I advance you the performance bonus for the Spring Gala instead?" she suggested. "You've never missed a performance, I have no reason to think you'll miss any of these, and it's what you would have had coming to you in a couple of weeks' time anyway."
"I know I should just wait, but I'm afraid I already proposed," he explained further. And without a ring. "It was rather sudden." Not to mention unexpected. "I would really appreciate it," he added, struggling against the blush that wanted to creep into his face.
Even when the theater was in mid-season, it was a rare week day when Mataya could not be found somewhere in the building. Neville was in luck today; she'd been pinned behind her desk by Charles, who needed her signature on various money-related issues, and that meant she was definitely open for business. She glanced up at the knock on her door. "Come on in, pull up a pew!"
Neville heard the boss lady's voice behind the door and winced a little, hoping he wasn't catching her at a bad time. "Hello," he greeted her a little bashfully as he peeked into the room. "Am I interrupting" I can come back." Or not.
Mataya's expression of studious annoyance switched up instantly into a bright smile at the sight of the nervous musician peeking around her door. "Neville! Oh, come in, you're not interrupting anything," she said confidently, putting down the paper she was reading to give him her full attention. "You're in early, aren't you?"
"A little bit, yes. If you have a moment, there's something I'd like to talk to you about," he started, edging further into the room and closing the door quietly behind him. He didn't yet take a seat, though he knew it was expected of him.
"I always make time for my people," Mataya insisted, raising a brow above her smile. "Sit down, I won't bite you. To be honest, it's a relief to catch a break from all the reading." She chuckled cheerfully.
"I can imagine," he said, knowing it must take a lot of work to keep the theater running smoothly, and here he was there to pester her about something. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I know you must be busy," he apologized again, clearly nervous. No, he wasn't going to turn in his resignation or anything like that.
"I'm never too busy for my people," she nodded firmly. "Now sit down, and tell me what I can do for you. You're not interrupting anything, and you don't need to apologize."
He took a seat in the chair opposite her, folding his hands neatly in his lap - hands that were his bread and butter, whether it was playing the piano or the cello. "I'm probably being a little presumptious, and I don't want to put you on the spot, but I'm wondering if it would be at all possible to get an advance on my salary." There, he'd said it. The worst she could say was no.
Surprised by the request, but not unpleasantly so, Mataya's smile gentled as she studied him for a moment. "I'd need to know what reason you have for asking, Neville," she told him, almost apologetically. "Advances on salary are generally for specialised circumstances, such as family needs."
"You're right. I should just apply for a loan," he said, moving to his feet. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, ma'am. It won't happen again," he told her with a strained smile, privately cursing himself for being so stupid.
"That wasn't a no, Neville," Mataya pointed out with a smile, pointing to the chair for him to take a seat once again. "I said generally, not always. And I am exceedingly nosy, though I promise you that your reasons will not leave this office. If you're in some kind of trouble, let me help. Even if you're not, let me help. Just tell me what you need."
He paused, turning back and retaking his seat, though he was feeling ridiculously humbled by asking in the first place. "I'm not in any trouble. In fact, things are going rather well. That's why I'm here really. I know it's rather sudden, but I met someone recently."
Never let it be said that Mataya De Luca was slow on the uptake. She knew enough about Neville Ashton to understand the implication in what little he had told her, and a slow smile touched her lips. "Oh, I see," she nodded. "Congratulations." One hand rummaged through the papers on her desk for her cheque-book.
"Thanks," he replied, a soft smile brightening his face a little, though he was still feeling awkward. He'd never asked anyone for anything before, and he didn't really like asking now. "I wouldn't ask except, well ....things have been difficult since Nellie died." He didn't want to get into a long explanation of the financial woes that had followed draining what meager nestegg he'd managed to save. "The truth is, I'm getting married again, and I'd like to buy her a ring. Nothing too extravagant, mind you, but something nice. I just need a few weeks' advance pay, and I think I can do it," he explained.
Mataya's smile deepened as he spoke, truly delighted for him, but she knew enough not to make a fuss as she might have done for someone else. "How about I advance you the performance bonus for the Spring Gala instead?" she suggested. "You've never missed a performance, I have no reason to think you'll miss any of these, and it's what you would have had coming to you in a couple of weeks' time anyway."
"I know I should just wait, but I'm afraid I already proposed," he explained further. And without a ring. "It was rather sudden." Not to mention unexpected. "I would really appreciate it," he added, struggling against the blush that wanted to creep into his face.