by Jean Oram
The doors opened and she stepped out of the elevator, needing to buy more time. They closed behind her and she whirled, almost slapping the down button before catching sight of a serious woman sitting at a desk, watching her.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Of course he’d have staff that wouldn’t let you just crawl back under a rock, but would call you out.
Maya waved and shook her head. “I was going to say hi to someone, but just realized the time.” She took a step backward and lifted her wrist as though checking her watch. No watch.
Wow. Moron move after moron move. Way to impress everyone in the big city. No wonder nobody would hire her.
“Well, since you’re already up here, let me validate you.”
“Is my downtrodden self-esteem showing?”
The woman laughed. “Your parking?”
“Oh, thanks.” Maya stepped forward, digging into her straw purse.
“Who were you coming to see?” asked the woman.
“Connor MacKenzie.”
“Something important?” she asked carefully.
“Well, um. Yes.” To her, anyway. Not so much to Connor.
“You’d better go through and talk to Em. I think she’s still here.”
“Em, his secretary.” She remembered her from the info pack Connor’s personal assistant, Stella, had sent her. “Thanks.”
Maya moved farther into the office, not liking the concern on the receptionist’s face. She kept moving past doors and cubicles until she was toward the back, where there was an open area, tall plants and a vacant desk. A large corner office sat empty, its framed prints leaning against the walls.
Two men were chatting off to the side, their heads bent as though they were up to something. Their brows were furrowed, but the longer they talked, the more relaxed they became, until they were chuckling. The one high-fived the other and let out a triumphant laugh.
A female voice broke her out of her people watching. “Can I help you?”
Maya admired the woman’s short bob, complete with a pink streak. “Yes, I’m Maya Summer. I’m looking for Connor’s secretary, Emily Duncan.”
“You must be Mr. MacKenzie’s assistant in Muskoka. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am, thank you.” Maya straightened her back and smiled. This woman knew who she was! Someone in this big impressive building knew who she was and, not only that, was happy to see her. Her life was beginning. Right here. Right now. “Are you Emily?”
“Em.”
“Em.” Maya turned slightly to point to the men, who had stopped chatting and were walking away in opposite directions. “Who are those guys?”
Em glanced over Maya’s shoulder. “Mr. MacKenzie’s advisors. Bill Hatfield and James Culver. Did Mr. MacKenzie call you already?”
“Today?”
“Of course he didn’t.” The woman frowned, dimpling her chin, as she began walking, assuming Maya would follow.
Maya liked her already. No need to stop talking just because you were on the move—there were things to be done.
“Stella is on vacation, so don’t pester her unless absolutely necessary, and I will determine when that is. You go through me for everything. Understand?”
Maya nodded, trying to assess the situation. Something had happened, but Em was talking so fast she didn’t have time to mull over what it might be.
“I’m glad you came in. I was going to courier files to you, but this is better. Nice to see who they are going to.” She gave Maya a small smile. “You’re going to be a busy gal. We need to get you situated.”
“Why, exactly?”
The woman narrowed her eyes, and Maya felt as though her intelligence was being tested. “Mr. MacKenzie is taking two weeks off.”
“Yes...” But…did this mean he was heading back to Muskoka?
Oh, no. What if he was in Muskoka waiting for her to take him to the island, and she was in his office trying to pass herself off as someone important?
The woman shot her a wicked grin. “If you are asking why exactly you will be a busy lady as Connor’s assistant, enjoy the quiet, because when we kick into high gear you’d better have your running shoes on, girlie.”
“Check. Got them.”
Em laughed. “I like you, Maya. I think Stella did good in hiring you. Not many could take on Mr. MacKenzie in the mood he’s been in lately, but I think you might. You just might.”
“Oh, he’s fine.” Maya let out a half laugh.
The woman waved her over to her desk.
“Is that his office?” Maya asked, pointing.
“It is. Stay out unless authorized. And you are not authorized.”
Yikes. This secretary was scary under her pink streak and smile. But if this was what Connor wanted in his staff, Maya could so fit that bill. “It doesn’t seem like him,” she said.
“Then you don’t know him.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She couldn’t stop staring into the room. It was so barren. Not stark and modern, but barren. As if it was missing some key element—such as Connor. “He needs a plant. Or some life in there.”
“Tried that. I had to water it, so gave up. I don’t have time to make his office pretty.” Em poured a stack of files into Maya’s arms. “This’ll do you for now. They’re all copies, so I don’t need them back right away. But when your position is terminated, all of these files and any notes, further files or anything you have created must be returned to me. To me. You understand?” She waited for Maya to nod before letting go of the stack. “You keep nothing.”
That was heavy.
“This is all he’s currently working on.”
No wonder the man seemed so tired. It was an insane amount of work.
“He’s familiar with everything in these files?” Maya couldn’t help asking.
“Normally.”
“He doesn’t now, though?” She tried to get a better gauge of what Em was hinting at as the woman turned to grab a thinner stack.
“This is upcoming stuff. He might refer to it, but you probably won’t need it. He will expect you to know it though.”
Finally. She was going to be working for Connor in a real way.
“Do you have a box?”
Connor’s secretary looked at her, eyebrows raised.
“What?” Maya asked.
“You’re not taking public transportation with these confidential files, are you?”
“No, but it would make it easier to get to my car without the wind carrying away half the pile.”
The woman grabbed a recycle bin from Connor’s office and dumped the files into it. “I’ll email you an encrypted file with Mr. MacKenzie’s email addresses and other vital info, if Stella hasn’t already.”
“She did, but he hasn’t requested I take care of anything yet.”
“Oh, he will. Just give him time. In the meantime, you’d better get fully up to speed while you have a chance. Things will be crazy by Wednesday and you can’t afford to get behind. If you’re behind, we’re all behind. Got it?”
Maya swallowed and nodded. Again, the mailroom was looking good. If only to avoid having the sensation that the entire corporation was resting on her shoulders.
“And if Mr. MacKenzie tries to do any work, you call me. He is absolutely and entirely on vacation. Got it?”
“I thought he was on a working retreat.” She was sure that was what Stella had called it. He was taking a bit of a break while she took care of things at his side.
“It’s a full-on vacation now, so you do your work and keep an eye on him for us.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Because I’d like to still have a boss and a job next week.”
Oh, that did not sound good. That really did not sound good.
CHAPTER 5
Maya stepped out of the water taxi, cursing the spotty cell service on Nymph Island. At least now she knew that the boat, which hadn’t been sitting at the marina where she’d left it earlier, hadn’t been
stolen since it was in the boathouse. The only question was which sister was out here at the island? And where had Connor gone? Em made it sound as though he’d resumed his Muskoka vacation, but Maya hadn’t heard a thing from him.
She flicked her phone, the screen lighting up the night as she checked once again for voice mails or text messages. She paid the water taxi with one of the twenties from Jonah’s cab ride and, hugging the blue box filed with files, walked up the dark path, wondering why the little solar lights she’d bought weren’t working. Did not enough sunshine filter through the trees during the day to charge the batteries? Or had the box of lights she’d bought at the dollar store been broken or defective? She popped one out and inspected it. Finding a small plastic tab that kept the light from connecting to its battery while in its package, she pulled it out, making the light turn on, although dimly. She continued up the path, shaking her head. How could she not even slow down long enough to notice she wasn’t installing them correctly?
A few lights were on in the cottage, and she hoped whoever was there wasn’t abusing the aging power system by leaving them on for no reason. The solar panels were still okay, but the battery was a real problem—which meant they’d have to run the generator to boost it, so she’d have to haul more gas to the island. And gas was not cheap. By the time she reached the veranda, she was feeling impatient to tell off whoever was using more than one light. She opened the screen door, and Daphne called out, “There she is!”
Tigger came bouncing over. “I got a chipmunk to eat out of my hand!”
“No way!” Maya dumped the box of files and gave her niece a distracted high five, on the lookout for Connor, as well as any extra lights she could turn off.
Daphne stepped close to her, angling them so her words wouldn’t filter past their bodies. “I gave Mr. MacKenzie a ride out here. Where were you?”
“How did he find you?”
“I’m listed on the info sheet you gave him.”
“When did he get here?”
“About an hour and a half ago. In a limo.”
“No plane?”
“He doesn’t seem well.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suggested a cleanse.”
“Tell me you didn’t.” Maya reached over and turned off an overhead light, relief seeping under her jitters. “I really need Connor to see me as logical and analytical, Daphne. No offense, but a cleanse doesn’t exactly say I’m Bay Street material and that I will get things done in a surefire way, or that everything I do is backed by research. That I don’t feel, I act.”
“Well,” Daphne said uncertainly, “he asked me if it would help clear stress. So I set him up.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I told him yoga was more likely to help, and showed him a few moves. I’ll bring some of my videos over later. Do we still have the portable DVD player here?”
“I’m not running the generator for TV.”
“It has a battery and it’s for our guest! And he really needs yoga. He looks as though he’s about to keel over.”
“I fed the fairies!” Tigger said, slamming the door on her way into the cottage, having finished a loop of the veranda.
“Not now, Tigger,” her mother said. “And shhh. Mr. MacKenzie is trying to sleep.”
“It’s not bedtime yet,” the girl complained.
“As a matter of fact, it’s past your bedtime.” Daphne began herding her daughter out of the cottage. She paused, turning to Maya. “How did you get out here, anyway? I have the boat.”
“Water taxi.”
Daphne pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I can give you a ride into town,” Maya offered, “especially since they haven’t been giving us a local’s discount since Simone broke up with the owner’s son, what’s-his-face.”
“That’s unfair, she’s not even related.”
“She’s a Summer sister by heart.” Maya placed a hand on her sister’s back and guided her out to the veranda.
Daphne paused, waiting for Tigger to catch up. “You should leave Mr. MacKenzie a note.”
“Right.” Maya turned, hurrying back inside. She turned the corner into the kitchen to grab the notepad, and slammed into Connor. “Oops!”
“I was looking for you, actually.”
“Sorry, I was in Toronto.”
“Doing what?”
“Job inter—getting files from your secretary. Good to see you here.”
Connor crossed his arms. “You’ll need to take over the details of the merger. Just the everyday stuff to ensure the wheels stay greased. Items that comes across my desk—push them along.”
Maya’s heart skipped and twirled. Yes! “Great. Let me know what to do, and it’ll be done.”
“All the info is in the files.”
“But—”
“I’m on vacation, just get it done. Stella said you were capable.”
Maya stared at him for a long moment. He was serious. Somber. His chin drawn tight with a determination she’d seen in him only during his talks.
“Yes, but…”
“I’m on vacation. Talk to my advisors or Em. They’ll tell you everything you need to know.” He turned away, jaw clenched, as though fighting the temptation to talk.
* * *
Connor still couldn’t quite believe he was back in Muskoka, but he’d been so relieved when Dr. Tiang had told him that his chest pains weren’t a heart attack that he’d blindly nodded and agreed to take the prescribed two weeks off.
He’d never heard of anyone his age keeling over from stress, although he’d met plenty of people who’d bailed out of the rat race and looked healthier for it. The big question in Connor’s mind was were they smart for listening to their bodies, or was this another test of his devotion and ambition? Another hurdle to leap? He was beginning to think…well, honestly, he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t Superman and that the doctor might be right.
He stood on the end of the dock on Nymph Island and gazed into the water. The only place he knew where he could hide away and fix his life was here. Not Italy or some fancy spa, but here. With Maya. Only hours from the temptation of too much work.
He rubbed his eyes and watched small fish zip and zag below the water’s surface, disappearing under the dock, then reappearing. Swimming really wasn’t that hard. Look at the fish, it was second nature, just like it was for him as a kid. He could still do it, no problem. All he had to do was get in the water. Just leap off the end of the dock. Nobody was around to see him stand up to take a break if he got tired. He just had to get in there, and build up from whatever he had until he was healthy again. Until he was buff, and ready for Maya.
The blue boathouse across the strait didn’t seem that far. He could swim there and back to get his wind and rhythm, and then go around the island just like Maya did every day.
He stretched his right arm across his chest. Then the other arm. He hummed an aria from La Traviata. He carefully dipped a toe in the lake and jumped back from the chill.
Great. Now he was never going in.
He let his toes curve over the edge of the dock and closed his eyes, searching for motivation. Why was he doing this? For work. He needed to get back to work.
Meh. Work-schmerk. He wanted to go back to bed, even if it meant tossing and turning and barely sleeping.
What else was there? Not dying. That could be good motivation, except that it didn’t feel like a particularly real threat.
Maya.
Hmm. The doctor had made it sound as though his lack of solid, regular erections was due to stress and fatigue. In other words, if he took care of himself he might be able to pop one and put it to good use with a hottie like Maya. None of this tired, a-bit-too-soft business he was experiencing.
Smiling, he raised his arms to dive into the water. Motivation found.
The sound of bare feet pattered across the dock and he turned, losing his balance, tipping off the dock as a grinning Maya ran past h
im, diving out in a graceful arc while he landed with a splash. He came up gasping, grabbing at the slick wooden ladder, while Maya surfaced in a front crawl, taking her away. She rolled onto her back, laughing at his expression.
“It’s cold!” he called.
“It’s not that bad. Try it in May.”
“May! I knew you were crazy.”
“Earliest is May 5. It’ll get warmer in a week or two, then start cooling down again. Enjoy it while it’s good.” She began backstroking away at a leisurely, strong pace possible only by those in fantastic shape. “There’s a PFD in the boathouse that should fit you,” she called, not breaking stride.
“I can swim.”
“Stay where it’s shallow. My first aid isn’t up-to-date.”
“Up yours, you braggy show-off,” he muttered as she surged into a strong front crawl, disappearing from sight within seconds.
Of course she went around the island; it wasn’t that big. It just sounded fancy, saying you swam around this big hunk of rock. Connor pushed off from the dock to follow her, but after the first three strokes, he failed to fall into a smooth rhythm, his breathing and movements all wrong.
He reminded himself to take it slow. He was on vacation and didn’t have to make a full recovery today. Maya was handling the business stuff, and she could do a fine enough job to get him through. Right now he needed to focus on himself and rebuilding his strength. Focus on this. One stroke at a time.
He swallowed a lungful of water. He grabbed for the dock, which was still only a few feet away, and coughed it out.
Great start. At least Miss Baywatch was on the other side of the island and hadn’t seen him flounder.
He began dog-paddling until he was no longer fighting the water, then switched to a modified breast stroke, which was less exhausting. But why wasn’t that blue boathouse across the way getting closer?
He turned to see how far he’d come, and frowned. Was there a strong current? He’d been swimming for what felt like ten minutes, and still wasn’t even halfway. Sighing, he began moving forward again, struggling to go faster. Puffing great bursts of air, he finally grabbed the dock on the other side of the strait. Farther than he’d thought, and now he had to get back.