AS MY WIFE

by Groovy Lee

  “She collapsed at a dinner party and was rushed to the hospital. Her doctors say she’s suffering from exhaustion—trying to do too many things at once.” He uncrossed his legs and sat up as he continued. “Ever since my father died, she’s been running three different charitable organizations, and traveling across the states speaking at women’s seminars; She arranges fund-raising parties and things to that nature. She paid no attention to her doctor’s advice or mine to slow down. Her system couldn’t handle the load any longer, and that’s why she fainted. So, she has to have complete rest for an extended period of time.”

  “Wow, I imagine that’s going to be hard to do since she’s such an active person.”

  “Not if she wants to get better,” he almost smiled at that. “This time she has no choice but to follow doctor’s orders.”

  “If there’s anything I can do, sir, please tell me.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Jenkins. Believe me, she’s being well taken care of.”

  She felt touched by the warmth in his eyes and such devotion in his tone. “Yes, sir. Just tell her that I’m thinking of her?”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  When he reached over and patted her hand lying in her lap, her heart flipped violently from its heat. She folded her other hand over it in a tight clasp, pretending again that it had no effect on her as she half-studied the passing scenery outside.

  The limousine finally pulled up in front of her house. For such a nice gesture, she offered an invitation for him to come inside, confident that he would turn her down.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I do have to talk to you about something.”

  If he hadn’t held her hand as she exited the interior, she probably would have fallen to the pavement on her knees from the shock of him being inside her house.

  “Please, have a seat,” she motioned to the overstuffed sofa when they entered the front room. She then went over to the window and adjusted the blinds to allow some light in. “Would you care for something to drink? Coffee? I have some wine.”

  “Water is fine,” he said as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and lowered himself to the sofa.

  “I’ve got that. Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back.”

  She went into the pale-yellow kitchen with its matching floral curtains and leaned her weak body against the sink; Her hand clutched to her chest: Indigo Farrell, her boss, is in her living room and if she didn’t get a tight hold of herself, she’ll explode. He’s actually sitting on her couch. How did this happen? She pushed away from the sink and went to the refrigerator to get two bottled waters. After wiping the moisture away, and taking the deepest breath she’s ever had to, she returned to the front room.

  “Here you are,” she handed him his water.

  “Nice place,” he glanced around the room.

  “Thanks.” She took her seat on the sofa, embarrassed they hadn’t bothered to dust in a couple of days, and the floor could use a good vacuuming.

  He unscrewed the top from his bottle and sipped at the cold liquid. Gracie held hers for security, having forgotten all about opening it; Her eyes glued to him.

  After a few sips, he replaced the cap and said, “The reason I need to talk to you concerns my mother. As I said, she needs complete rest for an extended period, so I’ll be leaving soon to help her recover.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I have a summer home up in Canada. It’s on a small island south of Montreal in the middle of the St. Lawrence Gulf called Eden’s Cove. It’s very beautiful there. The houses are surrounded by acres of forest, and a beach runs along the back of mine. We get quite a few tourists that visit there to fish in the crystal lakes on the island.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I’m sure your mother will recover quickly if Eden’s Cove is as beautiful as you describe it.”

  “I agree. She’s already on her way there. As soon as I tie up a few things here, I’ll be joining her. I’ll probably be leaving sometime next week.”

  “How long will you be away?”

  “A couple of months.”

  She felt a strange sort of sadness at that. Usually, she’d jump at the chance to have the office to herself and to be able to relax with him out of the office.

  “Which means when you return from your London vacation, I’ll still be there. Victor Reese, one of the board members, will be filling in for me. You’ll be working with him until I return.”

  She’s familiar with the kind, stocky build, gray-haired man who often walked by the office doors on his way to one meeting or another.

  “I’ll fill you in on the details, later,” he continued.

  When he leaned forward, she almost stood, thinking he was leaving now. But he just sat his water bottle on the table and leaned back into his seat.

  “Tell me about yourself, Ms. Gracie Allen Jenkins,” he asked as he regarded her for a moment. “Do you have family here?”

  That’s the first time he’s ever asked her about family or anything personal. Why would he be interested now? “Uh, there’s not much to tell. You really wouldn’t be interested.” She hoped that would end that line of questioning.

  “Try me,” his voice held that familiar authoritative air, but his eyes had an unfamiliar twinkle to them.

  As she told him about her life in Tennessee and the grandmother who had raised her, he seemed intrigued. When she painted the crazy picture of her cousin, May, a witty uncle, and the aunt who laughed at his corny jokes, he smiled—almost laughed. It caught her off guard, but it was a welcomed change. She had no idea he was so easy to talk to. Even that handsome look changed for the better when his features softened as he talked about his niece and pregnant sister. She’s never seen his smile actually reach his eyes. She could get used to this personal, human side of him, as opposed to the professional, cool persona she’s used to dealing with. Time slipped away like a shadow moving softly along as they sat talking and sipping at their drinks.

  “So, how long have you lived together?” he asked when it came to the subject of Heather and Bitsy.

  “Three years now.”

  “Have you known one another long?”

  “Since high-school. We moved here fresh out of college five years ago to seek our fame and fortune.” She couldn’t help laughing at that. “We each had hopes of becoming rich and famous, but reality took care of those silly dreams. We can’t complain though. We love our jobs—sir,” she bowed her head to him.

  “But, I’m sure you’re going to love your Sugar and Spice shop even more when you finally open it. That’s the correct name for the pastry shop you plan to open next year, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes. And, thank you for your support and understanding.”

  “Well, I admit, I’m going to miss the best executive assistant I’ve ever had, but who am I to stand in the way of progress?”

  Those brown eyes always had a pulling effect when he stared at her that way, making her lose her train of thought. “Uh, well, thank-you. That’s been our dream for so long; To open that shop, make it prosperous, and then Heather and Bitsy will marry and raise a family.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Me, sir?”

  “You didn’t include yourself when you said that. Don’t you want to marry and raise a family, too?” His gaze lowered to her smooth legs as he spoke.

  “I—I guess so. I haven’t given it much thought—lately.” She looked forward, her mind a blank and her words beginning to stumble.

  “You came close to it once. Have you written off marriage forever? Or will you give someone else a chance to love you?”

  His question felt like an intimate caress to her mind; And the strange way his eyes were now moving across her face had her insides coiling into one, big knot. She reacted by grabbing her water bottle from off the coffee table to quench her now dry throat. But she had forgotten that the top wasn’t on and her sudden move caused the cold liquid to spill out and across his right thigh.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she stood and gasped in h
orror. “Please forgive me, sir.” She looked around for something to soak up the mess, not hearing his reassuring words. She ran into the kitchen to retrieve a clean towel. In seconds, she was back, wiping like crazy at his dark, gray suit. “I’m such a klutz,” she rambled on. “It was such a stupid thing to do.”

  “Ms. Jenkins—Gracie,” he stood and lifted her up by the shoulders and held her steady. “It’s okay. It was a simple accident; No harm done.”

  Her eyes shifted from the warmth in his, to the mouth that curved in a captivating smile. “B—but your suit,” was her weak reply.

  “It’s just water. Don’t worry ab….”

  His soft words died away. She felt the brand of his strong hands holding her arms. She braced her palms against his hard chest, feeling the violent thumping of his heart pounding through them as he pulled her near. His lips parted slightly as they grew closer to hers. She knew what was about to happen and in the midst of her wild, whirling mind, it was what she wanted, too. But the magic died a quick death when his hands dropped away from her and he stood back. Her shameful gaze fell away from his.

  “I think I should go,” his murmur was more of a declaration.

  She managed a demure nod. He said a soft good-bye and was out the door. She went to the couch and sat there long enough for evening to grow dark, trying to sort out what had happened, and was it some sort of figment of her imagination; Some wishful thinking on her part. It’s hard to believe that a powerful man like him would feel any kind of attraction for her, however brief. An uncontrollable tinge swelled through her at the thought. It’s flattering to think that he actually wanted to kiss her. He did—didn’t he? Is she mistaking? Hopefully so. That way, she can look him in the eyes again. Because if he did mean to kiss her, working with him will be virtually impossible from now on, which means resigning and finding work elsewhere. She closed her eyes and blew out a harsh, relieved breath—Goodness, the havoc one small mistake can wreak.

  She stood and went to the front window to look out in the quiet night. Trouble—that’s all that kiss would have caused, though the thought of what it would have been like to experience sent her urges soaring. Once again, she sighed the image from her mind. As far as she’s concerned, she will go on as if that small exchange between them was nothing but a wild, imaginary dream. No doubt he’ll probably chalk it up to a weak moment; The unbearable stress of his mother’s health. Now they can return to the old employer, employee relationship, which is safe and fine with her. She could do without the complications of what could have been an empty, disastrous fling—if it ever came to that.

  Having resigned herself to just forget about it, she went about cleaning up the watery mess. Afterwards, she took a long, warm bath. Heather and Bitsy must never hear of this; They would never let her live it down.

  When Mr. Farrell arrived at the office the next morning, his proud, stiff demeanor had returned. He stood sifting through his mail as if last night never happened. He did ask her if her car was running. She said yes, and thanked him. He relayed some special orders to her, then disappeared into his office. She tried to be as unaffected as he, but she couldn’t forget, and it bothered her that he could so easily dismiss it.

  ****************************************

  The time for Gracie and her friends to take their vacation grew nearer. But the week leading up to it was tortuous. Each day came and went like one painful tooth pull after another. They spent most of the time shopping for last minute necessities and planning their itineraries.

  “One more week and we’ll be on our way,” Bitsy kept singing the entire day on Sunday.

  It was set. The moment their vacation started on Friday, they would board a flight the next day for a gorgeous London tour. The three of them were full of energy when they rode into work the next day.

  Gracie rushed into the office as was the pattern every Monday morning and slipped her purse and coffee mug from her grasp to her desk. She then began to prepare herself for her rounds with Mr. Farrell. She had just gathered up all the needed folders and her iPad when he sauntered in.

  “Good-morning, Ms. Gracie Allen Jenkins,” he said as he sifted through the messages she handed out to him.

  “Good-morning, sir.”

  He looked up from his correspondence and said, “Give me a moment and we’ll be on our way.”

  She was just about to reply when the glass doors opened and a familiar voice rang out.

  “Indigo, sweetie.”

  Their attention focused on the figure poised just inside the room. Felicia stood with one arm perched up against the door, and the other on her slim, Gucci hip; Her silky hair swept up in a wispy bun; cocoa colored lips flashing a seductive smile.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” her voice lowered sadly.

  A somewhat surprised Mr. Farrell stood as she sauntered across the floor in a swift, sultry pace to him where she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

  “I heard about Ella, so I came to see if there is anything I can do.” She wiped away the remains of her lipstick from his skin. “How is she, by the way?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Oh, darling, that’s so good to hear. C’mon, let’s go inside and talk.” She wrapped her arms around one of his and held on tightly.

  He looked at her for a confused second before turning to Gracie. “Let’s hold off our rounds for the morning, Ms. Jenkins. We’ll do them later.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gracie’s gaze followed them as they strolled away for his office. Before disappearing inside, Felicia shot a look back at her. As the doors closed, she turned in her chair, her mouth wide in disbelief. There was a time she had grown used to Felicia’s nasty looks whenever she visited Mr. Farrell in the old days, the days when they had a relationship. As she shook that little episode out of her mind and busied herself with her duties, she couldn’t help wondering what was going on in there. Could they have reconciled? Well, Felicia certainly thinks so. After all, she kissed him, and he didn’t seem too eager to accept it. Gracie scolded herself for seeming so jealous. So what if they were together again? Why should she be so caught up in their business?

  ******************************************

  As much as she had hoped Felicia’s visit would be a one-time occasion just to inquire about Mr. Farrell’s mother, to Gracie’s displeasure, Felicia made it a daily habit to saunter in freely—and dressed to kill. From one day to the next it would be the purple beaded dress with the low neckline, beads shimmering from the office lights; or the black number with studs running straight down from her neck to the hem; or the red dress with the huge zipper down the back. It seemed the hems were getting shorter and shorter, and the heels went from four to six inch spikes.

  “She’s desperate to get her man back,” Heather mentioned one day while they ate in the cafeteria.

  Gracie had to agree and couldn’t help that small nick of jealousy from the thought that her mission just may work.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thursday finally made an appearance. For the millionth time, Gracie studied the days left on her computer’s calendar. Just one more and she’ll be out of there and on her way. She pushed away from her desk, then gathered up some papers for Mr. Farrell to sign before she left for the day.

  “Come in,” he answered to her knock.

  “I need your signature on these contracts so I can drop them off at the mailroom before I leave, sir.”

  The blinds over the huge window were drawn, barring any light from outside to enter. The paperwork from this morning were still in the stack where she had put them—untouched. It was clear to her that he had been sitting in silence most of the day, just staring at the walls deep in thought. He was unusually reserved as he took the papers from her and dropped them to his desk. There would have been at least a thank-you. Has something gone wrong? Is his mother worse off than he thought?

  He looked up at her from across his desk and studied her for a moment; His jaw clenched a few times be
fore he spoke. “If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you. Can you stay a little longer?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, hoping that whatever was wrong wasn’t as serious as he appeared.

  “Good. You can switch the phone lines to voice mail so we won’t be disturbed. If there’s a problem with transportation, I can take you home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After switching the phone to voice mail, she fumbled around in her purse for her cell phone to call Heather to inform her and could Tony pick her up? Heather’s office romance joke didn’t register this time. Afterwards, she returned to the office. She tried not to think the worse as she walked across the floor and lowered herself in the chair facing him. The blinds were now opened, allowing sunlight to flow in and lighten up the room. Mr. Farrell was already standing behind his desk. He finally cleared his throat and began to speak.

  “Ms. Jenkins, you know I plan to join my mother at our summer home in Montreal, and I’ll be staying there for a couple of months.”

  “Yes, sir. Nothing’s happened, has it? Your mother is okay?”

  His mouth curved warmly. “She’s fine.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief.

  “Which brings me to why I want to talk to you. I thought that while I was on Eden’s Cove, I’d take the opportunity to write a second book.”

  She nodded in agreement, remembering his first one stayed at number three on the New York Times bestseller’s list. Climbing the Corporate Ladder One Coffee Brew at a Time was the title. The success of it brought him national fame. Many referred to him as one of the few, top, young executives to own his own dynasty. After his appearance on some high profile talk shows, letters from around the country poured in from women who were enchanted, not only by his success and wealth, but also his good looks. ‘Suave and Debonair’, one letter stated. ‘He has everything you could possibly want in a man’, another one proclaimed; That rich, smooth, creaminess just takes over my senses—oh, and his coffee tastes great, too. That was a year ago. Things have calmed down since then, until, and she’s sure of this, his next book is released.