“Or directress.” Melanie winked at Jane. “Did you tell them you want to apply yourself?”
“I mentioned it.” Jane shifted, uncomfortably aware of the other staff in the room straining to listen. “The board won’t be interviewing anyone until the audit is complete. Now, were you able to reschedule my meeting with the mayor?”
She hated to put off Mayor Conboy, since he held the majority of the Children’s Aid’s purse strings, but it couldn’t be helped. Not knowing what to expect from Mr. Wilder, Jane wanted to be available as much as possible during his first day on the job. She imagined the interloper to be a middle-aged businessman who knew nothing about running a social agency. Their organization was very different from big corporations, and she intended to make sure he understood how they worked. That making a profit wasn’t their main goal. And that the welfare of the children was their ultimate concern.
“Yes. Mayor Conboy was actually relieved, since he’d had a conflict arise as well. It’s now moved to next Thursday at one o’clock.”
“Good. And what about the budget meeting with Mr. Warren and the other board members?”
“It’s now on Friday at four o’clock.” Melanie glanced over at Jane, as though anticipating her next question. “Don’t worry. I rearranged your schedule to make room for it. I figured one of the upstairs rooms should be free at that time.”
“Thank you.” Jane’s shoulders sagged a little. She hated having meetings that late in the day, but the lack of space in this building made it necessary to either rent outside facilities for meetings or wait until later in the day, when most of the caseworkers had vacated the rooms upstairs.
“When Mr. Wilder does arrive,” Jane said, “please show him to my office right away and then hold my calls.”
“Sure thing, Jane. I mean, Mrs. Linder.” Melanie turned back to her typewriter.
Jane shook her head as she turned down the hall. It had been a tough adjustment for everyone having to address her as Mrs. Linder. For Melanie, in particular. Her friendship with the younger girl hadn’t seemed quite so problematic when Jane was simply another caseworker. However, it had proven challenging over the last six months to keep her professional life separate from her personal one.
She unlocked the door and slipped into her office—or more accurately Bob Mills’s office—which she currently occupied while he was away. With a sigh, she sat down in the captain’s chair, realizing that he would never be back to run the organization. Making a mental note to speak to the board about a retirement party for him, she pulled a file open on her desk. When Mr. Wilder arrived, she wanted to appear hard at work, in control, and not as flustered as she felt.
A few minutes later, a soft knock on her door made her jump. “Come in.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Linder.” Bonnie Dupuis, one of the newer caseworkers, entered the office.
Relief loosened Jane’s shoulder muscles. “Bonnie. You’re in early. What can I do for you?”
“I thought you’d want to know that Mrs. Bennington called first thing this morning. They have another woman at the maternity home wanting to place an infant for adoption and asked if someone could come over. I know you prefer to handle Bennington Place personally, but Melanie said you’d be tied up with the auditor who’s coming in.” Her voice held a question, her gaze curious.
“Unfortunately, yes. I’ll have to see to Mr. Wilder.” Jane suppressed a flare of disappointment. She had a great rapport with the two women who ran the Bennington Place Maternity Home and looked forward to helping the expectant mothers who took refuge there. Now that she was acting directress, however, she often couldn’t afford the time to go out into the field. “I’d appreciate it if you could go over in my stead. Please give Ruth and Olivia my regards.”
“I will. Thank you, ma’am.”
When the door closed again, Jane released another soft sigh. Being called ma’am made her feel fifty instead of just shy of thirty. She flipped through the remaining pages on her small desk calendar. Well, she’d be twenty-nine for another three months anyway. Why was the thought of turning thirty so depressing?
As an eager girl of eighteen, she’d never imagined herself being divorced and living with her widowed mother at this age. She’d pictured herself happily married with at least four children by now. Her chest constricted on a familiar spasm of pain—the same pain she did her best to hide whenever she held a new baby or witnessed the joy of adoptive parents receiving their first child. For most people, the term miscarriage was barely a blip on their consciousness. But for Jane, the word meant more than just the loss of a child. To her, it meant the disintegration of her marriage and the death of her dreams for the future.
She could still hear her doctor’s words. “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Linder, but it’s my professional opinion that you are incapable of carrying a baby to term. I would strongly advise against getting pregnant again.”
Jane released the calendar page, allowing it to float back to September. Over the past four years, she’d had time to mourn her losses and had come to accept her fate, pouring all her energy into her career. Apparently, God had other plans for her life. A different way for her to minister to children.
Which was another reason why this job was so important to her.
And why she would do everything in her power to keep it.
Garrett Wilder stepped off the streetcar and fixed his fedora more securely on his head in order to counteract the gust of air that blew up around him. The streetcar chugged ahead with a clang, causing a small cyclone of dirt and leaves to swirl about the road. He’d decided to leave his car at home since he was unsure of the parking situation at the Children’s Aid office. Surprisingly, he found that he rather welcomed taking public transportation.
As he began the walk toward Isabella Street, his morning coffee from the boardinghouse churned in his unsettled stomach. Perhaps he should have skipped his usual beverage, knowing that the uncertainty of the day ahead would likely be hard on his digestive system.
Pushing all doubts aside, he forged ahead with a determined stride. This was only a matter of first-day jitters, nothing more. He had no cause to feel guilty about being brought in to the Children’s Aid Society to analyze its current operations, even if his arrival might create resentment on the part of Mrs. Linder, the woman who’d been filling in as acting directress for several months now.
Garrett conjured up the image of a plain, rail-thin woman, possibly in her mid-fifties, who wore no-nonsense clothing to match a military-like demeanor. It was rather unusual for a woman to receive such a promotion, even on a temporary basis. For Mrs. Linder to be put in charge of the whole office, she must have been working at the agency for some time.
The fact that the board of management deemed it necessary to bring in Garrett to investigate was even more unusual. The board hadn’t come out and said she was responsible for the financial difficulties facing the agency or the mysterious discrepancies with the books, but the hints had been pretty strong.
“Pay close attention to the directress,” Mr. Fenmore had urged him. “If there’s anything to be found that might point to her as contributing to the downturn in the department’s efficiency, we need to hear it.”
Garrett shifted on the sidewalk as he came closer to the address he sought. Finding evidence to destroy a woman’s career wasn’t exactly a prospect he looked forward to. However, if her mismanagement was putting an important public service at risk, and if proving himself here meant he’d be favored for the newly vacant director’s position, then Garrett would find a way to navigate a few difficult weeks. It would be a small price to pay to secure his future.
Even if that future looked nothing like what he’d pictured before the loathsome war had started.
Absentmindedly, he rubbed his hand over his chest, where one of the deadly pieces of shrapnel remained lodged. Strange how the trajectory of one’s life could be changed by an ill-timed grenade and two precariously imbedded fragments of metal.
> When he reached 32 Isabella Street, Garrett stopped at an opening in the brick-and-iron wall. A brass plaque on the post read The Children’s Aid Society. Pressing his lips together, he turned down the stone pathway that led to a majestic-looking brick building, one that, if all went well, might become his permanent workplace. He couldn’t afford to let sentiment or regret derail his plans. His career—and more importantly his family’s well-being—depended on it.
On a deep inhale, he opened the front door and stepped inside, finding himself in a narrow hallway with open arched doorways on either side. From the left, the clicking of typewriter keys could be heard, and the scent of brewed coffee and lemon furniture polish hung in the air. Garrett set his hat on the hall coatrack, straightened his jacket, and walked across the polished wooden floors. He poked his head into the room on the left, where a woman, presumably the secretary, stopped typing.
“Good morning. Can I help you?” She gave him a bright smile, revealing a small gap between her front teeth. Her blond hair hung in soft waves to her shoulders.
Garrett came forward and glanced down at the nameplate on the desk. “I believe you can, Miss Benton. I’m Garrett Wilder. I’m here to . . .”
The welcoming expression fell away from her face.
Garrett stiffened but through sheer force of will kept his expression the same. “I see you’re aware of who I am.”
Miss Benton squared her shoulders, rose, and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wilder.”
He shook her hand. “And you, Miss Benton.”
“I’ll take you back to Mrs. Linder’s office.” Miss Benton came around the desk. “She said to notify her as soon as you arrived.”
“I’m sure she did,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
He gave her one of his winning smiles. “I’m eager to meet her as well.” Garrett followed the woman down the hall to where the corridor branched into a T shape. At the first office to the left, Miss Benton stopped to give the door two sharp raps.
“Come in.” The voice was melodic yet authoritative.
Miss Benton opened the door. “Mr. Wilder is here, Mrs. Linder.”
“Thank you, Melanie. Please send him in.”
Garrett bristled. She sounded like a queen inviting a peasant into the throne room. Mrs. Linder might be older and more experienced, but at almost thirty-one, Garrett wasn’t a child, and he would not be intimidated.
Miss Benton waved him in. “Go on in, Mr. Wilder.”
Garrett pulled himself up to his full height and stepped inside. “Good morning, Mrs. Lind—” He stopped short, his mouth falling open.
The woman seated behind the desk couldn’t possibly be the acting directress. This woman was young—possibly younger than he was. She wore her chestnut hair in a tidy roll off her forehead that showcased porcelain skin and stunning green eyes. But it was her boldly painted red lips that claimed his attention. Realizing he was staring, he blinked and attempted to regain his equilibrium.
Mrs. Linder regarded him steadily, her slim brows lifting in a silent query.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Because of the job title, I had expected someone of a more . . . mature age.” He summoned his professional charm and extended his hand. “Garrett Wilder. Good to meet you.”
“Likewise.” She rose in one fluid motion and shook his hand, never breaking eye contact. “However, I must admit that I too was expecting someone older.”
He gave a sheepish grin. “Thank you for saying that. I feel a little better now.”
He waited for her to resume her seat, then loosened the buttons on his suit jacket and sat down, setting his briefcase on the floor beside him.
Mrs. Linder folded her hands on the desktop. “I admit that learning about your impending arrival yesterday came as quite a surprise, Mr. Wilder. All Mr. Fenmore told me is that you are here to study our operations and advise us how we can improve our situation.” She glanced down at a piece of paper. “From your file, I see you have excellent credentials, including a business degree. I presume you’ll wish to study our financial records first.”
Garrett held back his surprise. She knew a lot more about him than he’d expected. “The finances are part of it, certainly, but my job here encompasses a great deal more than that.”
“I see.” She twisted a plain gold wedding band on her left hand.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind about what type of man her husband must be. How did he feel about his wife working in such a demanding position, one that would likely require long hours and come with a great deal of responsibility? Would Garrett ever be as open-minded when he married? Granted, his mother helped his father with the family farm, but that wasn’t quite the same as this type of career.
“I plan to study all areas of the agency’s operations,” he continued. “I’ll observe how things are done, then make recommendations for overall improvement.” He didn’t add that a big part of his job would be studying her.
A slight frown creased her brow. “Given the current economic situation, my employees are understandably nervous. Will these recommendations lead to any potential layoffs?”
Garrett knew he had to tread with care or he would alarm the staff unnecessarily, which in turn might hinder their performance. “Only if it makes sense and only as a very last resort. I simply wish to see how we can streamline procedures in order to maximize everyone’s time and eliminate unwarranted expenses.”
Brushing some lint from his pant leg, he rose. “Now, if you’d be kind enough to show me to my office, I’ll get settled in and prepare to meet the other staff members.”
She stood and tugged her suit jacket into place. “Of course. Follow me.”
As she came around the desk, he stepped back. She was tall for a woman. In fact, with the heels on her shoes, she stood almost at his eye level. At six foot two, however, he still had several inches over her.
“There’s a room at the end of the hall we’ve fixed up for you.” She moved by him, leaving a lingering floral scent. “You’ll find we are rather cramped for space in this building. However, we make do the best we can.”
He followed her to a room not much larger than a broom closet, which looked as though it were normally used as a storage area, but now contained a rather beat-up desk, a captain’s chair, and a metal file cabinet. A wooden letter tray and an office lamp were the only items on the desktop. Not exactly the executive suite he’d hoped for. He set his briefcase on the desk’s scarred surface and frowned. “I will need a telephone.”
“I figured as much. The phone company should be here sometime today or tomorrow to install one.” She shrugged. “I know it’s a little rough in here, but feel free to add your own touches. Whatever will make your job easier.” She smiled, and though she was saying and doing all the right things, he sensed her aversion to having him here.
“Most of the supplies are kept in that cupboard.” She waved a hand toward the corner. “But if there’s anything else you need, Melanie can help you.”
“Melanie?”
“Miss Benton, our secretary and receptionist. She handles all the office supplies, orders, typing, et cetera. In truth, this place couldn’t run without her.” She gave a light laugh as she backed toward the door. “Well, I’ll let you get settled. . . .”
Garrett bit back an oath. This awkwardness was no way to begin a working relationship. He needed to establish some sort of rapport with this woman in order to gain her cooperation. “Before you go, Mrs. Linder, I’d appreciate it if we could clear the air.”
Jane froze, caught in the man’s hypnotic blue gaze, and found herself wishing for the paunchy middle-aged man she’d envisioned. An older man’s experience might have intimidated her but not as much as this man’s incredible good looks did. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She tilted her chin, doing her best not to allow her facial expression to give away her unease. At all costs, she had to come across as cool and professional. Totally in control of
all aspects of the agency, but, most importantly, in control of her emotions.
Mr. Wilder leaned a hip against the desk and crossed his arms, still managing to look elegant in his three-piece suit with not a wrinkle in sight. “I realize this is a less-than-desirable situation, but my time here will be much less stressful if we can establish some sort of understanding. After all, we’re both working toward the same ultimate goal—to improve the agency’s functionality so we can help the most children.”
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. He was right. Every aspect of the Children’s Aid Society centered around the welfare of the children. “Do you really believe that, Mr. Wilder?” she asked coolly. “Or do you care only about the pluses and the minuses in the ledger book?”
A nerve jumped in his jaw. “I care a great deal about the children who come through these doors, but if we don’t address the agency’s financial problems and the office is forced to close, what will happen to the children then?”
Alarm ricocheted through her system. “Surely there’s no threat of the agency closing. The government wouldn’t allow it.”
“Then why did the board of management feel the urgent need to hire me?”
Jane bit her lip. This was the question that had plagued her since she first learned of Mr. Wilder’s impending arrival. “Mr. Fenmore said they were bringing in an objective third party to study the agency. I assumed this would mainly consist of a financial audit and recommendations for how to optimize our funding.”
Mr. Wilder gazed directly at her. “Believe me, Mrs. Linder, this is much more serious than a simple audit. But I’m confident that if we work together, we can find viable solutions to get this agency running in peak condition.” He pushed away from the desk and held out his hand. “Can I count on your cooperation?”
To Find Her Place Page 2