by Gail Sattler
She buried her face in her hands. “It was an accident,” she muttered. She’d already embarrassed herself by crying in front of Ken, but the latest onslaught of questions was again driving her to the verge of tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of her workmates too. The situation was bad enough already.
“Come on, you guys, leave her alone. Can’t you tell she’s upset? How would you feel if you broke the boss’s arm?”
Molly peeked through her fingers to see Janice shooing everyone away.
Janice. Whom Molly had resented for awhile yesterday when she thought Janice had stolen her job, even though it wouldn’t have been Janice’s fault. The force of the guilt was almost overwhelming. She knew there had to be a Bible verse for that somewhere, but she couldn’t think of one. Tonight she would ask Robbie, but for now, she wanted to be a good Christian example for Janice. The pastor’s sermon yesterday had focused on that exact theme, but she hadn’t understood the importance of being a good Christian example. Molly could see she was going to learn a lot on Sunday mornings.
For lack of something more dignified to do with her hands, Molly grasped her coffee mug and blinked away the sting of pending tears. “Thank you, Janice.”
Janice simply shrugged her shoulders.
Molly opened her mouth, wanting to share her faith, but she couldn’t think of an opening that wouldn’t sound forced, and therefore destroy her credibility. Pastor Harry had said the greatest tool in sharing one’s faith was friendship. Only then could one earn the right to be heard. So, instead, they chatted amicably until it was time to return to work, with Molly only inserting a few comments about attending church into the conversation.
Before she left the lunchroom, Molly poured herself another coffee, then paused. She knew Ken was a coffee drinker but suspected he didn’t want to pour a hot beverage with the wrong hand. She also doubted he would ask a co-worker to do it for him because he didn’t know anyone that well. Therefore, Molly selected a spare mug from the cupboard and fixed him a cup exactly the way she remembered from their lunch together and headed in his direction.
She found Ken busy at his computer, pecking at the keyboard with one finger while muttering under his breath. His suit jacket lay draped sloppily across the back of his chair, giving more prominence to the white sling and the reason for his frustration.
When she placed his mug on his desk, he stopped typing and looked up at her.
Molly smiled weakly. “I thought maybe you could use this.”
Ken’s bleak expression caused her hand to tremble as she slowly lowered her own mug to an empty spot on the desk.
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here. This is much harder than I thought it would be.”
“I guess you’re probably having a hard time typing. Sometimes I try and use one hand to type while I’m eating a sandwich, and it doesn’t work very well.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “Oops! We’re not supposed to eat at the computers. Crumbs and stuff, you know. You won’t tell Mr. Quin … uh … your uncle, will you?”
He grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “As long as you don’t tell when I do it.”
Molly smiled back. She had the feeling she was going to like working with him.
Ken leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “Typing is bad enough, but the mouse is driving me nuts.”
“The mouse?” Molly picked up his mouse, unlatched the bottom cover, removed the mouseball, and inspected the rollers for dirt. “There’s nothing wrong with this mouse.”
He sighed again. “It’s so awkward with my right hand.”
“Working a mouse is easy. How hard could it be, even with the other hand?”
“Have you ever tried to work a mouse with your left hand?”
“Well, no …”
Ken shoved the keyboard to the side, picked up the mousepad, and placed it on the left side of the keyboard, stood, and stepped aside. “Be my guest.”
Molly tried not to let her mouth hang open. Gone was the softness in his face she’d witnessed a few minutes ago, replaced by tight lines on his brow and the hardening of his lips. He stretched out his free arm with an abrupt movement, signaling her to sit in his chair.
Molly reassembled the mouse and placed it on the mousepad. She sat quickly, before anyone in the office could notice their contest. As requested, she laid her left hand over the offending mouse and began to guide it through the program he had open.
“This isn’t hard.”
“Open the Brentwood file.”
Carefully, Molly aimed the mouse, ran it down the list, and then clicked. Nothing happened. “Oops, I used the wrong button. They seem to be reversed for the wrong hand.” Just as the words left her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t mean the wrong hand. I meant the left hand.”
Her comment was met with silence.
She slid the mouse to the list again, but the arrow went in the wrong direction.
“Oops.”
Working very slowly, she guided the mouse to the correct entry and tried to stop it from wiggling when she used her ring finger instead of her index finger to click with the left mouse button.
Finally it worked.
“Now open their financial file.”
She didn’t know if she wanted to go through it again. “I think you’ve proved your point. I’m sorry, Ken. I really haven’t thought about how right handed the world is. The keyboard even has the calculator part on the right side. I’ll bet back home you have one of those ones that splits, and you can move it to the left, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve ordered a new one, but it hasn’t come yet. Not that there’s a rush now. I won’t be able to use it for eight weeks.”
Molly cringed. At that moment she made up her mind to attempt some basic tasks using her left hand, just so she’d remember how difficult this was going to be for him. She didn’t know much about stuff designed for lefties, but she did know specialty scissors and baseball mitts were twice the price of the regular ones. Of course that didn’t matter for now. He couldn’t use his left hand if he wanted to.
“Would you mind entering this information and then checking the spreadsheet for me?”
Molly nodded. She normally didn’t like someone looking over her shoulder when she worked, but in this case, she had to grin and bear it. If the situation were reversed, she didn’t know if she would have been so gracious.
From the first moment she met Ken, she couldn’t help but like him. He was soft-spoken, yet that didn’t take away from his obvious authority. She’d never met anyone like him and wondered if he was like this because of his Christian upbringing.
She knew only two people who were raised in a Christian home, her friend Gwen and Gwen’s brother Garrett, whom she’d been seeing much more often lately since Garrett married her best friend, Robbie. She’d never thought about how kind to others they both were as adults, because she grew up with them. For them, that behavior was normal. Likewise, it seemed normal for Ken. If this was typically the way a person who was raised in a Christian home behaved, she wanted to know more.
She switched the mouse back to the right side to finish Ken’s task, then returned to her own desk.
She had just started her own work when Ken’s voice beside her made her jump.
“Are you busy for lunch?”
Molly’s fingers froze midsentence. Work and conversation around them stopped.
The library book she was supposed to return on Friday was still in her car, and the outfit she had at the drycleaners and her photographs were still waiting to be picked up. The list of supplies she needed from the stationery store was still tucked inside her purse, and now she was late paying her phone bill. But it wasn’t Ken’s fault she’d spent all weekend fretting about what happened instead of doing what she was supposed to.
Molly lowered her hands from the keyboard to the desktop and turned toward Ken. She didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, but it apparently was something he didn’t want to disc
uss with the rest of the office watching—and they were definitely watching.
Her errands would have to wait until evening. “I guess not,” she mumbled
He smiled, and she immediately knew she’d done the right thing. “Great. Where should we go?”
With Molly sitting in the chair as Ken stood beside her, his poor swollen fingers were directly at eye level, reminding her that everything he did, including eating, had to be accomplished with one hand. Unless she was also expected to cut up his food, their choices were limited. She doubted he would be able to eat a sloppy burger with one hand, and there was a great Chinese place around the corner, but she didn’t think he’d be able to manage chopsticks with the wrong hand. She could barely manage them with her right one.
“Why don’t we go to the same place as last time? They have great ravioli.”
“Sure. Let’s go now and beat the rush.”
Beating the rush was never an option before, but being the boss’s relative gave one privileges that lowly office staff like her could only dream of. Molly hit save and stood. “I guess we should probably drive this time. I’ll go bring the car out front for you.”
“No, I’d like to drive this time. I obviously didn’t get out to buy a car on the weekend, but Uncle Walter offered to loan me his car any time I need it. Let’s go now.”
Without a word, and feeling the stares of everyone in the office as they left together, Molly followed Ken to the underground parking. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he had Mr. Quinlan’s keys in his pocket.
Slowly, he backed the large car out of the narrow stall. Molly didn’t like big cars, which was why she owned a small economy import. She wondered what kind of car Ken had, which then made her wonder if he had sold it, because he had just mentioned that he was going to buy a car when he had more time. That made her wonder how long he intended to stay in Vancouver. Rumor had it that this was a permanent move. Ken buying a car versus renting one would prove the rumor true.
The electric window on her side of the car rolled down. “Molly? Is something wrong? You can get in now.”
“Oops,” she muttered as she scrambled into the car and fastened her seatbelt.
“You’ll have to give me directions. I remember how we got there when we walked, but I obviously can’t take the car through the short cuts.”
Molly pointed to the right. “Two blocks that way, then one block left. You said you were going to buy a car. Wouldn’t it have been better to have your car shipped, or have someone drive it out for you?”
He shook his head. “Someone I knew wanted to buy my car, so I thought I would just do that.” He grinned. “I’m anticipating not having to plug my car and still have it start.”
Molly stared at him while they waited for the red light. “Plug it in? I didn’t know they made electric cars for everyday use.”
He shook his head and turned into the parking lot. “No, it’s not an electric car, but it is winterized for the harsh prairie winter climate. It’s got a block heater and an interior warmer, so I can get in a nice warm car after it’s been sitting outside all day and it’s twenty below outside.”
“I can’t imagine that,” she mumbled. Still, the bottom line was that he had intended to buy a car over the weekend. Molly suspected the reason he hadn’t was because of his inability to sign the registration papers or the other legal forms for transferring his driver’s license.
“I was also going to look around for a house once I got here too, but we decided to put my stuff in storage for a little while. Uncle Walter and Aunt Ellen insisted I stay with them until I’m out of the cast.”
Molly cringed. Something else that was her fault.
Once they were seated and their orders had been taken, Ken’s expression turned serious. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to discuss business. I was tied up all morning, and I have a big meeting first thing this afternoon, so this is all the free time I had. I hope you don’t mind.”
She was quickly coming to understand how Ken was moving rapidly up the corporate ladder. Even temporarily handicapped, he still carried himself in a style that left no question as to his authority, despite his age. His manners were impeccable, his words gentle but firm. He left no question of who was in charge.
“Tell me about Trevor Chapman. So far all I’ve learned is from his corporate file, the status of their account, their needs, but nothing about what the man is like to do business with, his preferences and concerns. As receptionist, you spoke frequently to all our clients, big and small, including Mr. Chapman.”
Now she was starting to realize why she had been chosen to assist him. Not that she had been involved in sales, but she did have a lot of contact with all their business associates, even if it wasn’t for the specialized dealings of day to day operations.
As best she could, she told him about Trevor Chapman, how everyone always jumped through hoops for him, that he expected everything immediately if not sooner, and was rather impatient if things didn’t happen the way he wanted. She also knew Trevor Chapman was allergic to his granddaughter’s new Pekinese puppy, whom the little girl had thoughtfully named Missykins.
Ken stared blankly at Molly. He didn’t know much about Trevor Chapman, but he did know the man traveled only in very small and elite circles. “You know him personally?”
Molly laughed and waved one hand in front of her mouth as she finished her bite. “Of course not. I chat with people when they’re on hold and I don’t have another call coming in.”
Ken studied Molly. Chatting was one thing, but he failed to see how a business client’s granddaughter’s puppy and his medical history could possibly enter a conversation.
“You know, someone really ought to change that music over the phone line when people are put on hold. It’s really bad.”
Ken had never paid attention to the music. He tended to ignore it and worked on something else while he waited.
She didn’t wait for his response before she started talking again. “I have a friend who’s got a great collection of Christian CDs. It sure would be nice if we could put one of those on instead of that elevator music. But I guess we can’t do that, can we?”
He raised one eyebrow but said nothing. Molly’s face reddened, which Ken thought quite amusing.
“Oops. It was only a suggestion. Forget it. It probably wouldn’t work.”
He’d never even remotely considered putting Christian music over the company telephone system. He made a mental note to discuss the idea with his uncle.
“Since you’ve been a Christian since you were a little kid, I’ll bet you’ve got a great CD collection too, don’t you?”
He was beginning to wonder when he was going to get a chance to speak. “Most of my CDs are packed in a box in storage. But you’re welcome to go through the few I brought. They’re in a box at my uncle Walter’s house.”
“I still have a box I haven’t unpacked, and I’ve been in my apartment for three years.”
Ken shook his head. He thought they were going to talk about Trevor Chapman’s company, but he’d obviously been wrong, although he wasn’t quite sure what they had talked about.
Soon they were back in the car and on their way. He turned south and checked the dashboard clock. They had plenty of time.
“Ken? Where are you going?”
Fortunately, Ken had a good memory for numbers. He’d memorized the address before they left for lunch. “I already told you. We have a meeting with Trevor Chapman and his associates.”
Molly’s face paled. “We?”
Chapter 4
Molly remained silent, staring out the window for the rest of the drive to the highrise office tower in the middle of Vancouver’s downtown core, where the meeting would be held.
Ken had been to Vancouver before, and like the last time, he was in complete awe of the height and majesty of the unique buildings. However, he was not here to be a tourist. He had things to do and people to meet.
While he circled aroun
d the underground parking facility searching for a parking spot, Molly’s grumbling about small cars and big cities gave him cause to rethink his choice when it came time to buy his own car. He finally found a spot on the opposite side of the lot from the elevator. He pocketed the keys, wiggled one arm into the sleeve of his suit jacket, draped the other side as best he could over his left shoulder, and they started walking through the lot.
“You never told me I’d be going to a big meeting today. Look at what I’m wearing!”
As they walked, Ken analyzed what she deemed inappropriate. She wore a black blouse accompanied by a loose green skirt, along with shoes the exact same shade as the skirt. Compared to her vivid hair, her outfit was subtle and controlled, and he liked it. He didn’t know if Molly had done it on purpose, but the skirt and shoes were the exact color of her eyes. Wide, gorgeous eyes. Laughing eyes, eyes that hid nothing, a gateway to her soul. Eyes a man could get lost in, perhaps for a lifetime.
Ken cleared his throat, lifted his free hand to his tie, wiggled it, then let his hand drop. “You look nice.”
He opened the door to the area containing the stairwell and elevator, and Molly pushed the button for the elevator. The light indicated the elevator was on the way down.
“I don’t do shorthand or anything like that. I don’t know why you need me to come with you.”
His experienced secretary back in the Winnipeg office hadn’t done shorthand either. He was almost positive that such a skill was a lost art. “I know you don’t. I just need someone to take notes for me.”
Molly opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, her gaze dropped to his fingers sticking out from the confines of the cast. All the sparkle left her eyes. He had tried his best to be gentle with his words, but facts were facts. He couldn’t write.
“This is a really important meeting, isn’t it?”
He nodded and felt the knot of his tie again. Not only was it their largest client, Trevor Chapman was a powerful influence in the business community, and his recommendation would go far to obtain new clients or shake up current ones. This was also Ken’s first time representing Quinlan Enterprises in his new capacity, even though it hadn’t become official yet. Uncle Walter had decided they would wait until he was out of the cast before making the official announcement, and Ken agreed heartily with that decision.