Gentle Persuasion

by Cerella Sechrist

  * * *

  OPHELIA HAD JUST stepped out of the shower when she heard her phone vibrating insistently. She’d been restless for most of the night, her dreams filled with memories of Dane’s arms around her and his lips on hers. She’d been awake long before the dawn, lying in bed and basking in the thought of the day ahead, wondering what it would be like to spend the hours in Dane’s company.

  The phone’s vibrations distracted her from these thoughts as she wrapped her towel more tightly around herself and rushed to see who was calling. She was reaching for the phone when she saw the name flashing across the screen.

  Lillian Reid.

  Her mother’s office line. Some of her joy evaporated at this. Her mother was likely calling for an update on her progress, but she wasn’t sure what sort of headway she’d made. She and Dane had spent a wonderful day together yesterday, ended it with a kiss, but that didn’t mean he was any closer to accepting the Towers proposal. She knew the call would be routed to voice mail after another ring so she drew a short breath and answered the call.

  “Good morning, Ms. Reid.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Ophelia, but it’s past noon here.”

  “Oh, of course. The time difference. I’d forgotten.”

  “It’s understandable.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause, and Ophelia wished, for probably the millionth time, that she and her mother could find something more to say to each other at intervals like these.

  “I was calling to check on your progress.”

  “Certainly. I’m sorry I haven’t checked in more frequently.”

  “As long as you’ve made inroads with Montgomery, it’s all right.”

  Ophelia didn’t respond, and she could sense her mother’s disappointment.

  “You have been promoting your purpose there, haven’t you, Ophelia?”

  “Absolutely, Ms. Reid,” she hastened to assure. “But of course, he’s not the easiest man to convince.”

  “No,” her mother slowly agreed. “But you have more at stake than anybody. So I trust you’ve been appropriately motivated.”

  Ophelia wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but in typical fashion, her mother immediately sensed her reluctance.

  “Ophelia, what is going on over there?”

  She suddenly felt like a teenager again, fearful of getting caught sneaking in past curfew. “I’ve been doing my best to convince Dane to sign the contract.”

  But her earlier hesitation had already raised Lillian’s suspicions. “And how have you been doing that?”

  Ophelia swallowed. “As I said in my email, I offered Dane the additional incentive, and he’s been acting as my tour guide.”

  “You’ve been sightseeing?”

  “Yes.” Wasn’t that what the tour-guide incentive had implied?

  “And what have you been seeing?”

  Ophelia seated herself in the chair by her room’s desk and drew her knees up to her chest. The open window let in the morning’s trade winds, and she felt gooseflesh rising along her bare shoulders. “Oh, this and that.” She felt protective of the time she’d spent with Dane, not willing to share it with anyone, least of all her mother.

  “Hmm. Is he any closer to signing than he was when you arrived?”

  Ophelia felt compelled to answer honestly. “I don’t know.”

  Her mother sighed, and she heard the weariness in it. A twinge of guilt imposed itself on her. She knew what was at stake here and recognized that her mother was counting on her to see things through.

  “What if I can’t get him to agree?” she asked, her voice a whisper, though she knew there was no one to overhear.

  “That is not an option.”

  “I know, but—”

  “He will sign that contract. He must.”

  Ophelia ran a hand through the damp tendrils of her hair, pulling them over her shoulder to toy with the ends. “But he likes his life here. The islands are amazing, and the people are so welcoming. You should see the sunsets. There’s this thing called a green flash—”

  “Green flash? Ophelia, have you been reading comic books?”

  She figured the question was rhetorical and chose not to answer it.

  “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were charmed by this man and his life there. It’s fortunate we both know how much you want to move to Paris.”

  “Yes,” Ophelia quickly replied. “Paris is all I’ve ever wanted.” She had said the words so often that they slipped easily from her mouth now.

  “I know. So keep your focus, dear. Think about Paris and everything waiting for you after Montgomery signs that contract.”

  It was not a suggestion but a command. Ophelia had worked for her mother long enough to know the difference.

  “Yes, Ms. Reid. I’ll do my best.”

  “I never thought otherwise.”

  Ophelia didn’t believe her.

  * * *

  AFTER HANGING UP the phone in frustration for the second time that morning, Lillian felt the sharp pain of a headache radiating toward her temples. She feared Montgomery had gained the upper hand in the negotiations, and Ophelia, tenderhearted as she could be, had succumbed to his charm. The man was a master of perceptions—wasn’t that all that advertising was, perception?

  Reaching toward her phone once more, she pressed the button for her assistant’s line. Tamara’s voice was temperate and professional as she answered, one of the reasons Lillian had first hired her five years earlier. She had served as a PA to some movie director, Lillian could no longer remember whom, for years before moving to the East Coast and applying for the job of her assistant—a role that had seen a rotation of individuals over the previous ten years. Tamara was the longest-lasting secretary she’d ever had, and though she wouldn’t have admitted it to most people, she was grateful for her.

  “Tamara, page Cole for me and tell him I need to see him immediately in my office.”

  “Yes, Ms. Reid.”

  Lillian couldn’t sit still after this summons, and she stood to pace as she waited for Cole’s arrival. Perhaps she had been unwise to send her daughter to Montgomery’s island paradise. She had thought that Ophelia’s goals would keep her firmly focused on her task. She suspected, however, that their recruit had somehow turned the tables and enchanted Ophelia with the idea of island life. It was the very thing Lillian had worked for years to safeguard against. She wanted Ophelia to be secure, to be happy. She would not have wished for her the life that Lillian had led. Her marriage to Marcel had been like something from a fairy tale—falling in love at a young age while vacationing with friends in Europe, marrying a man over twice her age and moving to Paris. But the dream had eventually turned to ash, as most fairy tales do.

  Mothers never tell you about that, she mused. Her own mother had been critical of her marriage, disdaining the idea of her marrying someone foreign and so much older, as well. But her mother hadn’t told her how things would end—that Marcel would die while she was still so young, that she would be left with a widow’s inheritance that could not sustain her and a young daughter forever. She had returned to the States and invested the money in starting up her business, and then she had worked harder than anyone could have imagined to make that business a success. All so her own daughter would never have her dreams crushed as Lillian’s had been.

  She had determined not to do her daughter the disservice so many other mothers had done their children. She’d made certain Ophelia was smarter than the rest of them, more determined. When her daughter had named Paris as a childhood dream, Lillian had helped her fashion it into a goal. She’d given her something to work for so that she wouldn’t have to rely on love to feel fulfilled.

  Why did everyone laud fairy tales for their happy endings? Did they forget all the death, cruelt
y and loss in between? She would not have wished a fairy tale on anyone, least of all her own child.

  A knock sounded on the door, distracting her from these musings. She turned to see Cole standing outside the glass, and she waved him inside. Placing aside her thoughts, she returned to the business of being her company’s leader once more. She moved back to her desk and gestured for Cole to take the seat before it.

  “Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Cole. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything important.”

  “It’s no problem, Lillian. I was just getting ready to step out for lunch.”

  They settled themselves, and for just a moment, she allowed herself the opportunity to study him. Cole was one of her strongest assets at Reid Recruiting—charming, tenacious and successful. The perfect match for Ophelia, and yet, she was aware her daughter had ended things with him.

  “Have you spoken to Ophelia since she left for Hawaii?”

  Cole shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Briefly, on the day of her arrival.”

  “She called you?”

  He nodded. Lillian had received an email that same day. It was a good sign that Ophelia had taken the time to call him.

  “I’ve just spoken to her, and I have some...concerns.”

  Cole straightened attentively. “What kind of concerns?”

  “I fear she’s become too wrapped up in the extracurricular side of her assignment. She seems to be enjoying herself.”

  She watched as Cole frowned, trying to read the emotions that moved across his face. Did it pain him, the idea of Ophelia spending time with another man? She found it difficult to tell.

  “I don’t think it would be wrong for her to have a good time.”

  He didn’t say so, but his tense shoulders suggested he wasn’t much in favor of the idea.

  “I suppose not, but my fear is that she’s lost her focus. It is a recruitment that requires concentration. Her surroundings might detract from that.”

  “You mean the islands?”

  “Exactly. That, and her host.”

  “Montgomery?”

  She knew she had his full attention now. “The man did not reach the heights that he did without possessing certain skills. I worry that he’s managed to sidetrack Ophelia. She needs our help.”

  Cole’s expression darkened, and she could see his mind working through the implications of what she’d just suggested.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  * * *

  WHEN OPHELIA DESCENDED the stairs, she encountered Dane at the reception area. She couldn’t tell if he was really looking over reservations, as he seemed to be, or whether he had been waiting for her to make an appearance. Either way, his face lit up when he saw her, and she felt her nerve endings tingle all over again in memory of their kiss the night before.

  “Good morning,” he greeted.

  “Good morning,” she returned, keeping her tone casual.

  “I was looking over our literature for local sightseeing adventures, trying to get some ideas for today.” He held up a few pamphlets that Leilani must keep on file for guests. So he hadn’t been waiting for her, after all. At least, not in the way she had assumed.

  She steeled herself and affected what she hoped was a professional demeanor. “I actually thought it might be more interesting if we stayed around the plantation today.”

  Her tone, or perhaps her expression, caused his smile to fade somewhat. “Oh? You’ve changed your mind about seeing the tourist hotspots?”

  “Not precisely. But I’m more curious about what your day-to-day life is like, on a coffee farm.”

  “Ah.”

  Something in that simple sound caused a tug of sadness in her. Had he hoped for something more from her? As much as she liked Dane, she had to remember why she had come. Paris, her future, hung in the balance. She could not afford to see Dane any differently than she had twenty-four hours ago.

  Besides, witnessing the daily tasks of his business might give her some insight, leverage if necessary, on how to lure him back to New York and the position with Towers Resorts.

  “It’s obviously important to you.” Ophelia found her voice softening to a more intimate level. “I’d love to see it through your eyes.”

  He studied her for a few seconds, and she forced herself to hold his gaze, wondering what he must be thinking. Was he wounded by her words? Flattered?

  After another minute, he gathered the sightseeing brochures together and pushed them to the side of the desk. “Sure. But I have to warn you, you might find it a little dull. Island life is not as fast-paced as New York. Especially when it comes to coffee farming.”

  He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. “That’s okay,” she assured. “I want to see what you do here. Really.” And she meant it.

  So they grabbed a bite to eat in the dining room where Leilani, Keahi and Pele were gathered for breakfast. After she inquired about his arm, Ophelia and Keahi found themselves in a conversation about his life growing up on a rural coffee farm and his relationship with his parents. He seemed to harbor no regrets about the dreams his family had lost—their farm and livelihood. The repayment of his father’s health was more than enough for what they had given up, he said. Ophelia marveled at this outlook and found a deeper appreciation for Keahi and the Inoas in the process.

  As she and Keahi chatted, she overheard snippets of Leilani pleading with Dane to convince Pele to let her spend more time with Sam. She couldn’t catch everything that was being said, given her absorption in her own conversation, but she heard enough to recognize that Dane seemed to mediate between grandmother and granddaughter pretty well. Had that skill come from his time as an executive? Or was he a natural-born arbitrator?

  As breakfast finished, Dane doled out instructions for the day—there were two reservations arriving at the inn the following week, so Pele would be in charge of preparing the rooms and stocking the kitchen with necessities. Leilani would assemble the welcome packets and assist her grandmother while Keahi reviewed past-due invoices and called their creditors to buy more time.

  Keahi slid a glance toward Ophelia, as if hesitant to speak in front of her.

  “Keahi?” Dane prompted.

  “Um...yeah, boss. There are a couple bills that just won’t wait any longer. I can’t buy us any more extensions.”

  “Do we have any revenue free to pay something on them?”

  He hesitated again. “A bit, but I was saving that for payroll.” He swiped a glance around the table, at Leilani and Pele.

  “I can wait to be paid,” Leilani spoke up.

  Pele pursed her lips, saying nothing.

  Dane sighed.

  “What if we halve the payroll for now and catch up the rest in another week?”

  Pele shook her head. “Pay Keahi and Leilani. I have everything I need right here.”

  Ophelia was touched by this declaration from the gruff housekeeper. For all her bluster, Ophelia had the sense that Pele loved Dane and her job at the Okina Inn.

  “It’s not fair to do that to you, Pele,” Dane said.

  “Who needs fair?” Pele fired back. “Are you taking a paycheck?”

  Dane said nothing.

  “When was the last time you did get paid?”

  Ophelia’s gaze swiveled in curiosity from Pele to Dane, who glanced in her direction and then quickly away. Perhaps she should excuse herself. She doubted he wanted her to hear these particulars of his business, but then again, her mother would want her to exploit this opportunity for all its worth.

  “Keahi can tell us,” Pele reminded.

  “Too long,” Keahi returned. “He hasn’t taken any pay in over two months.”

  “And you haven’t taken any pay in three weeks. Plus, I don’t have a family to support,” Dane po
inted out. “Like Pele said, everything I need is right here.”

  The older woman nodded in approval. “Then I don’t take any pay, either.”

  “What about the money for my stay?” Ophelia found herself speaking up and felt a twinge of uncertainty as four sets of eyes turned toward her.

  “Your deposit was already spent,” Leilani softly pointed out.

  “But there’s the $10,000 that comes with Dane’s agreement to show me around. I can call New York, see that the money is wired immediately instead of at the end of my stay.”

  Keahi leaned his large frame back in the chair and ran his palm over his chin thoughtfully. “That would certainly buy some time with the creditors.”

  “But not with Masters,” Dane reminded.

  Ophelia felt a cloud of gloom settle over the table.

  “See what you can do with what we have, Keahi. If you can’t make it work, then maybe Ophelia can have that money sent.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Dane rose to his feet. “I’ll leave you all to it. Ophelia’s going to accompany me around the plantation today, so if you need anything, we’ll be in and out.”

  They each rose to get on with their tasks, and Ophelia followed Dane as he led the way out the door.

  * * *

  HOURS LATER, DANE raised an arm to wipe at the sweat on his brow before checking the reading on the pH meter. Satisfied with the numbers, he glanced down at Ophelia, who sat on the ground, up to her elbows in compost and mud. She had been asking him questions all morning, mentioning different things she had learned from her tour with Leilani, and he found himself growing ever more expansive in his replies. He rambled on about planting, harvesting, processing and roasting, along with expounding on a description of bean flavor profiles that surely would have sent most women running for the coast. But Ophelia remained engaged in the conversation, interrupting occasionally to ask for clarification on some points. He found her interest intriguing, except that he couldn’t be certain whether she remained absorbed for her own sake or because it might benefit her assignment here.

  It felt as though he had talked more in the past three hours than he had in the past three years, and Ophelia seemed to be listening to most of it. Even once the more physical work began—checking the plants for pests and fungus, hauling fertilizer and making sure the seedlings were receiving the proper drainage, she continued to respond to his descriptions of coffee farming and ask appropriate questions. He found himself looking her way more often than he should, studying the fall of blond tendrils across her perspiring forehead, the streaks of dirt staining her slender arms and the sparkle of her smile when she would look up and reply to something he’d said.