by Zuri Day
Quinn turned to where Maggie stood behind her. “Oh, my goodness! Where’d you find this?” She took the dress Maggie offered and held it up to her body. “I can’t believe I still have this thing!”
“That thing,” her grandmother replied in the same derogatory tone Quinn had used, “will look amazing on you.”
Quinn walked to the mirror and held up the dress again. “Remember Libby, my roommate during senior year?” Maggie nodded. “Her mother brought this dress for me when Libby and I were invited to attend a royal tea with madame la maire de Genève.” Using the fluent French honed during her years in Switzerland, Quinn pronounced the mayoral title with dramatic flair as she executed a perfect pirouette. “She called it an investment piece, a classic.”
“She’s right. The cut, length, color...all timeless. It reminds me...” Maggie placed a hand to her mouth as if to prevent the words from spilling out of their own accord.
“What, Grandmother?”
“You don’t like to speak of it, dear.”
Quinn sobered. “Mom?” Maggie nodded. “It’s easier when I don’t remember.”
“If you say so.”
“I keep thinking there will come a time when I won’t miss her as much and it will be easier to talk about her.”
“My dear Kristin Quinn, you will always miss her. It’s been almost thirty years since I lost Mama, and still, I miss her every single day. Not with sadness, but with love. With every thought I have, she lives. Each time I imagine her face or speak her name—Lois—she lives.”
Thoughts of yesteryear evaporated conversation. Quinn slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. Several minutes ticked by, both women absorbed in a movie of memories. When Quinn finally broke the silence, her voice was soft, reflective.
“Sometimes I can’t remember her face. At other times it comes in clearly, like a photograph. Her long, silky hair that I loved to brush, and the jewelry box on her vanity with the ballerina. My desire to learn ballet began with the first twirl of that miniature doll. She had a ring similar to the color of this dress, in fact.”
“Yes, a sapphire. It was her birthstone.”
“Round, surrounded by diamonds, I’d put it on my thumb and pretend it was my wedding day. She asked who the groom was. I told her it was Daddy. She laughed and laughed. And so pretty.”
“She was a beautiful one, your mother. But also smart, strong, with a delightful sense of humor. Beautiful Brenda, Glen called her, and soon I adopted the name, as well. From the moment my son saw her, he didn’t stand a chance. He fell in love with her, and so did I. When you came along, I fell in love all over again.”
Quinn dropped her face into her hands. Soft sobs slipped between her fingers. Maggie hurried over and knelt down to comfort her.
“See, I told you it would make me sad!”
“It’s all right, dear one. Tears water the soul. And just for a moment, were you not happy? Couldn’t you almost feel her here as we remembered?”
Quinn looked up through teary wonder-filled eyes, nodded slowly and whispered, “Almost.”
Maggie stood and removed the dress from Quinn’s hand. “I think you should wear this tomorrow and think of that ring, and marriage to your father—” both women chuckled “—and all of the other happy times. Paired with a blazer and sensible pumps, you will be ready for corporate America. Everyone will notice that a smart, beautiful and capable woman is in their midst. Tomorrow you can present yourself as a pouting girl or a powerful woman. The choice is up to you.”
Quinn stood and hugged Maggie. “Thank you, Grandmother.”
Quinn tried on the dress. It still fit perfectly and looked almost new. Following Maggie’s advice, she chose a black knit jacket with multicolored thread woven throughout. A pair of classic black pumps and simple silver jewelry completed the look.
Once done, she took a shower. Her thoughts meandered from her grandmother, to her mother, to the dress that opened up a touchy topic—the man behind the reason the dress was picked out. She was still peeved about having driving restrictions and a forced internship for the next thirty days, a situation for which she blamed Ike Drake. In hindsight, she felt she could have brought a stronger argument than her attorney did. If she could have found that blasted dog, she might even have won. But there was more than one way to make one’s point, and it was never too late for victory. Ike Drake didn’t know it, but in filing suit and suggesting penalties, he’d thrown down the gauntlet. Quinn decided to pick it up. Tomorrow, it would be game on.
Chapter 8
Mondays had never been Ike’s favorite day of the week. Today held even less appeal. Along with what he knew would be a grueling morning meeting, one in which the details of closing the Ten Drake Plaza purchase would be laid out, and where the responsibilities of who’d handle what would be delegated, there was the irksome matter of having to put up with that Taylor woman for the next four weeks.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. There were a myriad of details for any real estate transaction, but when it involved one of the tallest office buildings in a popular city’s coveted financial district and over a hundred million dollars, it required almost as much manpower and time as all their other deals combined. He couldn’t afford to lose focus for even a second and felt he’d come up with a solution that would benefit everyone, but mostly himself.
He entered the company through a private side door and walked to his assistant’s desk. “Good morning, Lydia.”
“Hey, Ike. You’re looking sharp. I thought the meeting was here today.”
“It is.”
“Oh.”
Ike smiled. “Knowing how rarely I wear a suit, I guess I deserve that reaction.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. You look really nice. That look is more Terrell or Niko’s style, that’s all. You’ve always been more of a preppy dresser, a casual-pant-and-polo type of guy.”
“You’ve been with me in the trenches for five years now. So you should know.”
“Well, if it means anything, I think you should dress up more often. You look like the chief operating officer of a very successful real estate company.”
“I am the COO of a real estate company.”
She smiled triumphantly. “I rest my case.”
“Good, because we’ve got a busy day ahead.” He looked at his watch. “Do you have the files I requested over the weekend?”
She reached for a pile of folders stacked neatly in a tray on her desk and held them out to him. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in my office for the next hour. Hold my calls. Remember we’ve got Ms. Taylor coming in, the one from the accident.”
“I still don’t understand what Matt was smoking when he handed down that decision. Who does community service in a corporate office?”
Lydia, five years older than Ike, had also grown up in Paradise Cove and had known the White family since childhood. As often happened in small towns, there was usually only one or two degrees of separation between residents. In Lydia’s case, she’d had a crush on Matthew’s older brother. They’d casually dated during her junior year of high school.
“It’s what it is, so we’ll deal with it. As busy as we’ve been all year, I’m sure you can find enough to keep her busy, tucked away in a file room or similar place where she won’t be able to cause trouble.”
Lydia frowned. “What kind of trouble could she possibly cause?”
Just then, Ike’s line beeped. Lydia answered it. “Ike Drake’s office, Lydia speaking.” She listened and stood. “Okay, I’ll be right up.
“Looks like I’m about to get my answer. Our potential troublemaker is up front.”
* * *
“Feel free to have a seat if you’d like. Someone will be up for you shortly.”
“T
hank you.”
Quinn smiled at the cheerful receptionist, then walked toward one of two plush chenille-covered chairs. Amid the stainless steel, dark wood and gray walls, the deep rose color of the cushions was unexpected. She looked to the wall behind her and noted how that same color was highlighted in a collage of portraits depicting a sparse, unincorporated Paradise Cove with a lone building on what was now a bustling main street. The subtle yet clear coordination of every item in the foyer and lobby areas made it clear that a professional who knew their stuff had designed a professional, welcoming and sophisticated environment.
“Ms. Taylor? Quinn?”
Quinn looked away from the picture collage to greet an attractive woman, casually dressed, with a smile much more inviting than the tight bun she wore. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Wow. You’re very pretty. That’s a gorgeous color.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said while wondering about the twinkle in the assistant’s eye.
“What would you call that shade of blue—royal, maybe?”
The merest of smiles appeared just for a second. “I’d call it sapphire,” she said.
“Too fancy for my blood. But you look terrific.” She extended a hand. “I’m Lydia, Mr. Drake’s executive assistant. He has meetings this morning and asked that I get you started. He’ll be back for lunch. You two will meet then. Come on, let’s get you set up.”
Lydia led them through a door and down a long hall with offices on each side. She kept up a steady chatter as they walked. “Those are cute shoes, too. Don’t see how you walk in them, though. You’re the total package, that’s for sure. From the looks of things, you’ll be in the file room mostly—gathering documents, making copies, filing—the exciting stuff. Our dress policy is business casual.” She swept a hand over a basic navy pantsuit to make her point. “You can wear suits if you want, but it’s not mandatory.”
They reached a room at the end of the hall. Lydia opened the door and turned on the light. Unlike the rich, refined colors of the lobby furnishings, the file room was basic squared—cream-colored walls, one lined with what appeared to be a customized file unit. She guessed there were at least thirty individual drawers. Each was marked with a series of letters—an alphabetical system, she assumed. Opposite that wall were three run-of-the-mill desks, flat top, middle drawer, filing drawer on the right. The back wall held another table containing, Quinn assumed, everything one needed to keep information organized. Amid a pile of flattened boxes and stacked trays that held various items she glimpsed staplers, hole punchers, tape dispensers, calculators and at the end a keyboard in front of a forty-inch screen. The worst thing about the room wasn’t its color, drabness or the organized chaos on the back table. There were no windows. For this California native and sun child through and through, the next four weeks would feel like jail for real.
She followed Lydia to the desk farthest away from the door. “Let’s put you here for now,” she said, pointing to the desk. “Feel free to use the drawers for your personal items.”
Quinn placed her purse in the empty drawer as Lydia continued.
“Everything in here is pretty straightforward. Folders are filed by company, alphabet and date with the most recent documents at the front. We’ll break you into that later, but first off I have a major copying project. I don’t know how much Ike has told you about what’s going on...”
“I don’t know anything. We haven’t talked.”
“You’re interning as some type of community service, correct?”
Quinn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Something like that.”
“Well, anyway, we are in the last leg of a major real estate purchase, one of the largest that our company has procured. I can’t stress how important whatever you get to work on is, or how crucial it is that you pay attention to the smallest detail and make sure items are copied in the correct order, refiled properly, et cetera, okay?” Quinn nodded. “I’ll still double-check everything to make sure, but knowing what’s at stake will hopefully cause you to take your time and be thorough. Even though these tasks are considered menial—” Lydia used air quotes “—they are all important. Do you have a secretarial or admin background?”
“Nope, this will be my first time filing anything except my nails.”
Lydia laughed. “So what are you, a college student, business major, maybe?”
“I’ve graduated.”
“Oh. What’s your degree in?”
“Business.”
“Oh,” Lydia repeated with renewed understanding. “That’s why they have you here. Well, great! Hopefully we’ll be able to put some of that fresh education to good use.”
Lydia wrapped up the introductory session with what she said was most important: breaks, lunches and the location of the restrooms and break areas. Quinn chose to head to the ladies’ room while Lydia brought in the copying project. She returned, looked at the mountain of documents and murmured, “How is this my life?”
Thirty minutes into her copying project, Quinn had removed her jacket. The four-inch heels followed ninety minutes later. After three solid hours of standing, sorting, copying and stapling, she was ready to run through the halls buck naked and screaming like a banshee.
Fortunately, she was rescued before the idea could gain a solid hold.
“How’s it going?” Lydia asked, as cheerful now as she’d been earlier.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Did you take your break?”
Quinn shook her head. “I forgot.”
“You’ve been here copying all this time?” Lydia walked over to the sizable pile of finished items on the right. “You poor thing! I’m surprised you didn’t go stir-crazy in here.”
“I was close.”
“I bet. At least you got comfortable. Good for you. And do take your breaks, okay? Just a walk to the break room or outside for fresh air really makes a difference.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“The good news is that you’ll get fresh air now. I’ve made reservations for you and Ike over at the club. So grab your things and we’ll head up front.”
A phone called pulled Lydia away from the lobby. Quinn was thankful for the break. She liked her, and appreciated her genuine friendliness. But the constant chatter, boredom, lack of sleep and residual resentment was too much to handle simultaneously. After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen up, she sat down and sent a text to Trent about a masquerade ball Lydia had mentioned. The restriction on her license would be over by then. It would be fun to attend the party with her crazy friend. She sent a smiley face in response to his quick answer, then began posting on social media. Ike arrived fifteen minutes later. She heard him at the receptionist desk inquiring of her whereabouts.
She walked from behind the partition that looked more like a work of modern art.
“I’m here, Ike.”
He turned and gave her a quick once-over, his facial expression one that Quinn couldn’t read. Given how her body reacted to seeing him, she hoped her thoughts were hidden, as well.
“Good afternoon, Quinn.”
“Hello.” There wasn’t a shy bone in her body. So why did her face suddenly feel flushed, along with heat rising and pulsations happening? This was the guy who’d sued her, who was more uptight than her father and responsible for her spending the past three hours in a cave. She did not like him like that!
“Are you ready?”
She cleared her throat and responded without looking at him. “Yes.”
They crossed over to the elevator. She could feel his eyes on her and continued scrolling on her phone. “Were you waiting long?”
“No.”
There it was again—that feeling that he wanted to say more and didn’t. And even weirder, her ability to sense him so strongly. Was it a full moon or what?
/> The elevator ride was a quiet one. They walked to a late-model sedan parked in the first reserved slot. He opened her door. She thanked him and got in, still feeling all girly, like she was out on a date with someone who mattered. Obviously the six months since her broken engagement, during which she’d sworn off men to get her head together, had scrambled her brain. She needed to get out more. Seriously.
They headed out of the parking lot. “Given our contentious beginning, I thought a lunch meeting would be a good way to set a friendlier tone for the next four weeks.” She nodded but said nothing. “Do you agree?”
“I think it’s a good idea.”
“Good. How are you settling in so far?”
“Fine...thanks.”
She glimpsed Ike’s curious expression from the corner of her eyes. She didn’t blame him for being confused. She was asking herself who the woman was riding in his car and where the hell was Quinn?
What was it about Ike Drake that so moved her? As she listened to the quiet, tranquil music coming from the car stereo, the reason hit her like a punch in the gut. In past relationships, she’d been in control. Hotly pursued. Openly worshipped. Before, she’d been dealing with boys. Ike Drake was a grown-ass man. And she was becoming more and more attracted to the very type of man she claimed not to like.
Her cell phone rang. She thought about not answering it, but when she saw her grandmother’s face, she gladly took the call. The chat was brief, but enough for her to get it together and stop acting like the scarecrow who needed a brain. She ended the call just as Ike pulled up to the country club valet.
They entered and were quickly ushered to a small, private dining room. Quinn knew it was one of five in the clubhouse, including the actual restaurant. After being seated she reached for her water, took a sip and presented Ike with a smile.
“I was a bit distracted earlier and wanted you to know that I really appreciate this invitation and the opportunity for us to talk under less combative circumstances.”
“Absolutely. At the end of the day, there are hopefully no hard feelings. The accident and everything connected to it wasn’t personal. It was business.” Ike continued, his tone one of an executive in a corporate boardroom, “As is the core reason for this meeting. I understand that Lydia informed you that we’re in the middle of closing on a major deal.”