by Regina Duke
If it were only his future at stake, he would turn his back and walk away. But his sister Karla and his little brother Keegan had a stake in this as well. Like his mother said, by the time they were old enough to claim their inheritance, his father would find a way to turn all the assets into cash and stuff it into a Swiss bank account, hidden from them until the day he died. If there was any left by then. He’d already managed one legal maneuver after another to gain control of his mother’s wealth. The only portion left was that guarded by the trust fund that Kevin could only fall heir to by marrying before his twenty-fifth birthday. It was money from that trust that his mother, as a trustee, was using for his allowance.
So far, Kevin could support himself. But Keegan deserved a chance to go to a good school, and Karla should not be forced to do the kind of menial jobs he had chosen to do in order to get by.
He couldn’t turn his back. Like it or not, he was going to have a wedding on June 29th, and he’d better get busy and find a bride.
CHAPTER TWO
Saturday, June 23
Megan Mully stepped through the doors of the University of Washington Medical Center, her home for the last six months, and took a deep breath of fresh Seattle air. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let the sun beat down on her upturned face. It felt good to be outdoors again.
Oh, she’d been allowed outside during her stay, but she always knew she had to go back to her hospital room. Not this time. This time she was free to go anywhere she wanted.
She opened her eyes and gulped.
The only problem was, there was nowhere to go.
Her car had been totaled in the accident that put her in the hospital. She was moving to Seattle when it happened, so she didn’t even have an apartment. The job that was waiting for her went to another when she couldn’t show up for work. Everything she owned had been in that car, including her cell phone. All gone. But she couldn’t pay the cell phone bill anyway, without a job. So it didn’t matter.
She looked around at the acres of sidewalk that surrounded the medical center and realized she didn’t even know where to catch the bus.
Megan swallowed several times but the lump in her throat threatened to bring tears.
She shook off the loneliness, straightened her shoulders and clutched the battered purse slung over her shoulder. Inside, in her battered wallet, she had exactly forty dollars in cash. Her mother left it with her when she had to return to her father at the mission in Guatemala. There were lots of rewards in missionary work, but none of them were monetary.
The wallet wasn’t the only thing in her purse. She could almost feel the dreaded envelope through the bag. As broke and alone as she was, it was that envelope that threatened to fill her with despair. But there was nothing she could do about that at the moment. She braced herself to face her first day of freedom. But without the structure of physical therapy and hospital meals, she realized she had no plan for it.
Well, there was no time like the present to start looking for work. She patted her pockets for change, found a handful of quarters, and bought a newspaper from the box at the corner. She settled on a shady bench and turned to the want ads.
An hour later, the shade had shifted and the pleasant morning sun was turning into a noontime sunburn machine. Just her luck to be released on one of Seattle’s rare sunny days. Megan’s optimism was wilting in the heat. Column after column was filled with requirements and demands for experience that she did not have. Not one of them wanted a “twenty-fouryear-old-woman willing to learn, no experience necessary, will provide apartment and car.”
She laughed out loud at herself. The chances of finding an ad like that were almost as great as being abducted by aliens and learning she was a princess on another world. She turned the page. There were only two columns left. She might as well read through them all before she spent part of her precious forty dollars on something to eat.
She skimmed along the columns, hunger making her read faster. Journeyman Mechanic? Nope, not qualified. Radiology nurse? Wrong major. Nurse’s aide? By golly, she could do that one in her sleep, but the idea of moving from patient to caretaker in the hospital she just left did not appeal to her at all. The rest of the column was mostly clerical. And then there were sales positions. She could not stand on her feet all day, not for a while anyway. Those were out.
She just about gave up hope when the last ad in the last column caught her eye.
At first she thought it was a joke.
“Exceptional opportunity for a young lady, aged 22-25, willing to relocate. Gentleman’s personal secretary. Must be of high moral fiber. Lodging and transportation included in generous salary. Personal interviews only.” It ended with a phone number.
She read it ten times, trying to figure out what the trick was. But the words did not change. There it was. Gentleman’s personal secretary.
She wasn’t totally naive. She figured the “personal” part was very personal. But then again, it required “high moral fiber.” Goodness knew she had plenty of that. It was almost the only legacy her parents had provided for her before they took up missionary work.
No matter how many times she closed the newspaper and opened it again, the ad was still there.
After half an hour of shifting between too good to be true and sent from God, she decided it wouldn’t cost her anything but the price of a phone call. She knew there were pay phones in the lobby of the hospital, so she gritted her teeth and walked back into the megalithic structure she’d been so happy to leave a couple of hours before.
“Hello?” A man answered. He had a nice enough voice, and he didn’t sound like an old codger. But this could be an employee, she thought.
“Hi. My name is Megan Mully and I’m calling about the ad in the paper, the one for a gentleman’s personal secretary?”
“Yes?”
“Has it been filled yet?”
“No, not yet, Ms. Mully. Would you like to interview for the position?”
“Yes, please.”
“Can you be available at two today?”
Megan hesitated. “Well, I can, but...”
“Is there a problem?”
“I have no car. At the moment,” she added quickly. She didn’t want to sound destitute.
“I’ll send a car for you,” said the voice.
“May I ask who will be conducting the interview?”
“Certainly. Mr. Kevin Fineman Wake will do the honors. If you’ll give me your address, I’ll send a driver.”
Megan gave him the name of the medical center and the cross street. Then she added, “Oh, by the way, I need to, uh, leave the address of the interview with, with,...” —with another human being in case you turn out to be a serial killer— “...with my mother so she won’t worry.” She cringed. That sounded so stupid!
“Of course. I wouldn’t want your mother to worry.” He seemed amused, but he gave her an address in the downtown area. At least she thought it was downtown. Her entire six month stay in Seattle had been spent in the hospital. She only knew the area through television news broadcasts.
“My driver will be there in half an hour.”
“Great. Oh! How will I know it’s your car?”
“He’ll be driving the white limo today.” Click.
“Okay, then,” said Megan into the dead phone. “The white limo.” She replaced the hand set and headed purposefully toward the alcove where the snack food machines stood waiting. “Definitely the white limo,” she said in an affected tone. “One never drives black at this time of year.” Then she giggled.
A Snickers bar and a can of Coke had her buzzing with sugar by the time the white limo pulled up in front of the hospital entrance. A young Asian man hopped out and opened the back door for her. He was wearing a jacket that reminded Megan of a sea captain.
“You are Ms. Megan Mully?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“I’m Jeffrey Wong, Mr. Wake’s driver. I’ll be delivering you to your interview thi
s afternoon.”
For half a second, she wondered if she needed to tip the man. She wasn’t used to being driven around by a chauffeur. But then, if he worked for a wealthy gentleman, she shouldn’t have to worry about that sort of thing. She climbed into the limo and sat facing forward. Her purse had its own personal space on the roomy seat.
Wong leaned in to point out amenities. “If you’d like a refreshment, there’s a mini fridge. It will take us about half an hour to reach our destination. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
The door closed and Megan leaned back on the seat and exhaled with a whoosh. She wanted to get it out of her system before the driver got back in the car. She still had the newspaper with the ad in it, and she folded it tightly and clutched it in her lap for the first five minutes.
After that, she relaxed a bit and explored the mini fridge. She wasn’t hungry. More curious than anything. Even so, she couldn’t resist trying one of the little sandwiches on a tray. And a girl could never have enough caffeine. She popped the top on another soda, a diet drink this time. The fruit looked appealing, too, especially since she had no idea where she would be at dinner time or if she could afford to spend any of her forty dollars on a real meal. Very carefully, she smuggled an apple and a banana into her purse for later.
Megan wondered how many applicants had already ridden to their interview in the limo. If the offer was legit, she feared she would not have any of the necessary skills. What did a personal secretary do, anyway? In the age of iPhones and computers and email, did people even use secretaries anymore? The ones she’d known in the college departments all had different titles. They were office managers or clerical assistants or IT techs. Not a single one ever said she or he was a secretary.
For a few minutes, she looked out the window, but the glass was heavily tinted, and she didn’t really know what the streets were. Nothing looked familiar. She had the strangest feeling that she’d woken up from a long ugly dream and now she was emerging into a new world.
A twinge of panic rattled her insides. Her mouth dried up and she clutched her newspaper tighter, while she sipped at her soda.
Nothing bad will happen, she thought. For all they know, I’ve relayed my destination to my mother who might be a senator or a policewoman or a mob wife. They can’t possibly know. They won’t try anything shady.
Having calmed herself sufficiently, she tried breathing normally and found that air would still slide in and out of her lungs.
Sooner than she expected, the limo pulled into a parking garage beneath an office building. In one fell swoop, they left the sunlight and dove down into the dark maw of commerce. Megan already missed the sun.
CHAPTER THREE
Kevin paced the length of the rented office. He glanced at the art on the walls. It wasn’t exactly what he would have chosen, but he was forced to take some short cuts. Time was of the essence. The wedding was six days away and he still had no bride.
He’d already interviewed twenty-seven women for the gentleman’s secretary position, and turned away a young gay man who came prepared to convince him that what he really needed was a male secretary. The women so far this week had been a mixed bag of disappointment. One of them was in her forties. Two of them were thirtyish, trying to pretend they were twenty-five. He took their resumes and promised to give them a decision by the end of the week. He didn’t even tell them what the job was really all about. The other four women were the right age, but one had a snarky, hostile manner and a grating laugh. His family would never believe that Kevin was madly in love with her. She chewed gum and her skirt was too short. Another was too tall. That was hard to do, since Kevin was six four. He stood in the middle of the room and looked up at her in amazement for several seconds before rushing through an interview that he already knew was pointless.
The remaining two women had been possibles. He had gone so far as to explain in part what the job actually entailed, acting the part of his fiancée. He did not tell them why. He didn’t get a chance to. The first one got up in the middle of his explanation and left without a word. The second told him she had a good mind to report him for soliciting.
It never occurred to him that such an issue would arise. He was adamant that no sex was involved or requested. He just wanted to get engaged and married before his twenty-fifth birthday.
The phone on the desk rang softly. Everything in the room whispered elegance and money, from the thick carpet to the rich mahogany of the desk and the leather of the chairs. The phones in here didn’t jangle, they gently drew your attention to an incoming call. Kevin liked that a lot, and he hoped it would be impressive enough to convince the right woman that he already had the riches he was hoping to inherit on June 30.
“Yes?”
The chauffeur’s voice announced, “She’s on her way up in the private elevator.”
“Thank you.”
Kevin hung up and opened the double doors that separated the posh office from the private elevator on the other side of the well appointed waiting room. Another smaller mahogany desk sat against one wall. It held a computer and a phone, nothing else.
The elevator doors pinged open.
The woman inside was young with ash blond hair that fell below her shoulders. Her sky blue eyes were startling in their intensity. She was five eleven, very lean, and a bit pale. She looked oddly out of place in her summer dress and flats. He found himself imagining a bathing suit beneath the frock, leaving those long, lean legs bare. She was so lovely, his composure was momentarily rattled. He shook off the thoughts about her legs and greeted her.
“Ms. Megan Mully?”
Megan stepped out of the elevator, purse over one arm, newspaper under the other. She extended a hand.
“Mr. Kevin Fineman Wake?”
“In person. Won’t you come into my office? I’ve given the receptionist the day off.” He stood aside and let her enter the large room. The tall windows and the view of the city was impressive. He wanted to make the most of it.
Megan tried to look everywhere at once. She’d been in a big office before, but only on church business with her parents. She’d never seen this kind of opulence. She decided it looked nice enough, but it needed a work table. The large polished desk was no place to spread papers and sharpen pencils.
“Do you actually work in here?” The question just popped out. She tried to cover her eruption of personal opinion by adding, “The view must be distracting.”
Kevin straightened his new suit jacket and replied, “When I’m working, I don’t even notice the view. Won’t you sit down? Would you like a coffee?”
“No, thank you. I had something in the limo.” Megan suppressed a giggle. “Sorry. I have never in my life had occasion to say anything like that before.”
Kevin smiled. “No problem. Shall we talk about the position?”
Megan sat on the deep leather chair in front of the desk, set her purse on the floor and lay the newspaper on top of it. “Oh, yes, please. I have a hundred questions.”
Kevin sat down behind the desk and steepled his fingers. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Do you know how to use a word processing program? Are you computer literate?”
“I have a Bachelor’s degree in social work,” said Megan. “I am definitely literate.”
“Work history? Resume?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I just saw your ad this morning, and I wasn’t near my computer.” No, her computer was lying in a jumbled mess somewhere in the trunk of her wrecked car, probably in a junkyard being sold for parts. “So I just called and came. I could bring you one tomorrow.”
Kevin waved it away. “That may not be necessary. Are you discreet?”
Megan took a moment to think.
“It’s a simple question,” said Kevin.
“But not a simple answer,” she replied. “No one has ever asked me that before. I’m examining myself.”
Kevin covered his mouth to hide a grin. If nothing else, she
was entertaining.
“Well?” he prompted after several seconds passed.
“Yes,” said Megan. “I believe I am.”
“Do you have any life-threatening allergies?”
“None that I know of.” Curiouser and curiouser. What did a person’s allergies have to do with being a personal secretary?
“Do you like dogs?”
“Oh, yes.” Maybe it was work environment related.
“Cats?”
“They have a purpose in life.”
“Horses?”
“Noble animals.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“The word ‘horses’ by itself is not a question. Is it my turn?”
Kevin smiled and leaned back in his chair. “By all means.”
Megan straightened her spine and folded her hands in her lap. “Is your last name Wake, or is it Fineman Wake?”
“Legally, Wake. Fineman is my mother’s family, so I carry that name as well.”
“Your ad says ‘willing to relocate.’ Do you have a single destination in mind, or does it involve extensive travel?” She didn’t want to face the exhaustion of airports, long flights, and tourism so soon after her hospital stay.
“One location, maybe two at most. Whoever gets the job will be coming to Colorado with me right away.”
Megan brightened. “I was born in Colorado.”
Kevin slumped and frowned. He couldn’t afford for his pretend bride to know all about the Finemans and the family fortunes. Granted, he was going to pay her for a role, but he didn’t necessarily want someone with extended foreknowledge of just how rich his family was.
Megan rushed on. “But if that’s a deal breaker, I can pretend I was born elsewhere.”