VANCOUVER: The Gem of Canada Is Aglow with Four Romances

by Gail Sattler

  Mr. Quinlan folded his hands on the polished metal desktop. Absently, she compared the shiny surface to his bald head. He flipped through a file. Her personnel file. Molly started to feel sick.

  “You started in the mailroom, moved to file clerk, spent some time as …,” he flipped the page, “… junior clerk in payables. You’ve been the receptionist for a few years now.” He closed the folder and sat back in his chair, resting his hands on his protruding belly.

  Her experience at Quinlan Enterprises wouldn’t make an impressive resume, but perhaps the business courses she’d completed at night school would impress a future potential employer. She had hoped to be able to work her way up, but it now looked like the only place she was going was out the front door.

  “Uh, yes …,” she mumbled, forcing the words out.

  He checked his wristwatch. “Janice will take over your current projects effective immediately. Have you removed your personal effects from the desk?”

  Now she really felt sick. “No …”

  He leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting them on top of her now closed personnel file. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock on the office door as it opened. A young man in an expensive suit hustled in and shut the door behind him.

  “Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the traffic.” He glanced her way briefly, then turned to face Mr. Quinlan.

  Molly forced herself to breathe. Mr. Quinlan acknowledged him with a nod. The young man, whoever he was, turned to smile a greeting at her, showing the cutest set of dimples and adorable crinkles at the corners of his eyes. His tall frame filled out the tailored suit to perfection, showing off broad shoulders and trim hips, a build that shouldn’t have been confined in a suit.

  Molly stared at him, transfixed by his eyes. A dark steel blue, the cool color oddly radiated a warmth that instantly led her to trust him. They contrasted perfectly with his black hair, which was meticulously cut and combed back, heightening his soft but still very masculine features.

  As he lowered himself into the chair beside her, smiling the entire time, their gazes locked. Now that he was so close, she detected a spicy, deliciously male fragrance. Molly didn’t usually like cologne on men, but this time, if she hadn’t been already sitting and if this had taken place a hundred years sooner, she wondered if she might have fallen to the ground in a swoon. She told herself she was being ridiculous.

  She hoped she wouldn’t be asked to speak, because she didn’t know if she could.

  Mr. Quinlan nodded. “Molly McNeil, this is my nephew, Kenneth Quinlan.”

  The junior Mr. Quinlan shuffled to turn his body toward her as she remained seated and extended his hand, no doubt expecting her to respond.

  She couldn’t understand why she was being introduced to the owner’s nephew when she was on her way out.

  For five years she’d worked at Quinlan Enterprises. Molly knew every nook and cranny, every storage space, and she’d learned the location of almost every file in the building during her stint as filing clerk and office gofer. Later, when she took the receptionist position, she had made it a priority to know all the staff’s job descriptions. That way she could transfer calls to the correct person the first time, as well as know enough to ask the right questions to take intelligent messages. It was something she took pride in, and that knowledge should have made her more valuable, not the first person to be fired. It only hurt worse to know she was being replaced by a junior employee.

  She responded by giving Kenneth Quinlan the limpest handshake of her life.

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss McNeil. Or may I call you Molly? Whichever you prefer, of course.”

  “M … M … Molly.” She blinked at him, then continued to stare at him like he was from outer space.

  As he held onto her hand, Ken studied Molly McNeil. This was one woman who would not go unnoticed. Her flaming red hair would set her apart in any crowd. It was a shade he’d never seen before, a shocking orange-red in a wild array of curls he could only compare to Little Orphan Annie, in an adult sort of way.

  In contrast to her vivid hair, her clothing was businesslike and conservative, a nice neutral shade that set the color of her hair even more apart. He didn’t know much about women’s hair, but as unique as the color was, he doubted it came from a bottle. As with every redhead he’d ever met, she, too, had green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her pert little nose. She was cute and fresh-looking, her expression unguarded and transparent as she stared at him in open astonishment.

  “Please call me Ken. After all, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

  As Ken slowly released her hand, her face paled, making him worry that something was terribly wrong. Since his plane was late, he’d phoned from the airport. Uncle Walter had said it wasn’t a problem—he would be introduced to the person who would be showing him around when he finally arrived. However, she didn’t seem very enthusiastic.

  “We are?” she stammered, then glanced back and forth between himself and Uncle Walter with big round eyes.

  Uncle Walter knotted his eyebrows. “Didn’t Theresa speak to you this morning, Molly?”

  “Uh, no …”

  “Theresa was supposed to tell you that we’ve selected you to be Kenneth’s assistant until he gets settled.”

  “Me? His assistant? That’s what you called me in here for?” She sat completely still for a few seconds, then burst out into a very strange, humorless laugh.

  Personally, Ken thought himself a nice guy, and the job of showing him around shouldn’t have been so unnerving to cause anyone to react so strangely. He struggled not to give away any indications of his bruised ego.

  Uncle Walter stood. “Well, Kenneth, I know you said you’d be happy with the back desk in the accounting department, but I wanted to let you know Nancy volunteered to give you her office.”

  Ken stood in response. He hated being called Kenneth, although it was a step up from being called Kenny, a name he’d suffered with through childhood. He’d only managed to shake being called Kenny when he turned twenty-five. He hoped it didn’t take another twenty-five years to be referred to as just plain Ken, because if so, he had another twenty-three years to go.

  “I told you, I don’t want to be in the way, and I don’t want to disrupt the status quo. The back desk will be fine.” He turned to Molly. “Before we start, I do have a few things to take care of, and I have a number of boxes in Theresa’s car.”

  His uncle tipped his head slightly, turning again to Molly. “Since you’re going to be working closely with Kenneth, you’ll have the empty desk beside his, as soon as we move the things we have stored in it. Perhaps you could find a home for those old files and move your personal effects while Kenneth gets settled.”

  Ken extended his hand to Molly again. This time, she grasped his hand firmly, making him not want to let go. Her hand was small and soft, and this time, all the color had returned to her face as she returned his handshake. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Molly. See you in about half an hour.”

  With that, he turned and headed for the parking lot.

  Molly watched him go until he disappeared through the opening to the lobby. She tried to let it sink in that she’d been assigned to be the boss’s nephew’s assistant. She couldn’t imagine what she might be able to show him that he wouldn’t already know. Ken Quinlan had been running the Winnipeg production plant for the past two years, so he was more than familiar with the company and the way things ran. Even though she couldn’t remember ever having seen him before, she didn’t think she knew anything he didn’t.

  She also wondered what he was doing here, at the Vancouver office. Unless she was wrong, it appeared his move was permanent. So far she hadn’t seen an announcement that they’d hired a new manger for his old position, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been one. She wondered how to find out what was going on, and how it could possibly involve her.

  Mr. Quinlan’s voice broke he
r mental ramblings. “I’ll speak to Theresa about not informing you of our decision. My apologies.”

  Molly struggled to contain her blush as Mr. Quinlan shook her hand. She’d never been good at accepting apologies, so she forced herself to smile, then cleared her throat. “I guess I should work on clearing out that desk.”

  She took her leave and headed for her temporary desk, dreading what she would find. Whenever anyone had old files or archives too difficult or inconvenient to put away, they stashed them inside the drawers in the spare desk where no one could see, so she doubted Mr. Quinlan knew what he was asking. It was only when the filing department had time that those old files were eventually returned to their rightful place in the storage areas or in the attic. It would take far longer than half an hour to clear even a portion of what had collected over time.

  During her many trips back and forth to the back of the storage room, she overheard whisperings of gossip from a few of the other single women that they thought the only reason she got the job was because Ken liked her.

  The thought that someone of Ken Quinlan’s background of money and privilege would be interested in her on a personal level was preposterous. She was only a lowly office clerk. He was part of the owner’s family. Besides, she’d never met him in person before today, she’d only spoken to him on the phone, no more than anyone else in the office.

  Molly therefore concluded that they were angry because they wanted the job she’d been given.

  The allotted half hour passed too quickly. She was nowhere near ready when Ken signaled his readiness to start. She left everything scattered in haphazard piles and abandoned the mess to be sorted later. First, Molly formally introduced him to everyone individually, allowing a few minutes to chat at each stop. Before she knew it, it was lunchtime.

  Standing at the two disorganized desks in the rear corner of the office, Molly bent to reach for her purse, when a light touch on her arm made her breath catch.

  “May I take you out for lunch? I regret that we didn’t have time to talk before being thrown together. I’d welcome the opportunity to get away from the rest of the staff and listen to your ideas, and I’ll let you know my goals. I’d prefer we talk in private. Or do you have other plans?”

  Actually, she did have other plans, but she wanted to get off on the right foot with the boss’s nephew, especially now that he was her immediate supervisor. “I just have a few errands, I can always do them after work.”

  He smiled, and her heartbeat quickened. Molly tried to smile back without looking like a simpering fool and wondered how long it would take to get used to him.

  Rather than drive, since he’d been sitting for hours on the plane, they walked a few doors down to a small Italian restaurant that specialized in quick lunches for their business-oriented clientele. They were soon seated at a small corner table.

  Molly folded her hands in front of her, expecting to hear him outline her expected duties. Instead, he asked her general questions about procedures and morale and if there was anything in her opinion that was a concern. In no way did he sound condescending or patronizing, only honestly concerned. Immediately her apprehension about working for him dropped. She was just starting to explain how they arranged the vacation schedule when their food came.

  Molly stared down at her plate. Even though she hadn’t been a Christian long, the pastor’s sermon on remembering Jesus every time you ate and drank had hit home. It had been a sermon meant for communion, but she’d taken it very much to heart for every day. The trouble was, she hadn’t been in a public restaurant since she made her decision, except for once after church with the church crowd. She didn’t know what to do, especially with a stranger.

  Ken glanced down at his plate, then back up at Molly. He hated moments like this. He’d never been shy about pausing for a word of thanks before eating in a public restaurant, but he was usually with people he knew. He didn’t want to look overbearing, and even worse, he didn’t want to embarrass Molly, or himself, for that matter. He deliberately kept prayers before a meal short, but when he lunched with a client or associate who wasn’t a believer, he only closed his eyes for a second or two in order to be as discreet as possible before he carried on with the business at hand. He didn’t like to do that, but unfortunately, today was one of those times.

  Across the table from him, Molly seemed to be studying her plate. As far as he could see, everything looked fine. The meal was what she ordered, something she claimed was her favorite house special. Since she wasn’t paying any attention to him, he was ready to discreetly close his eyes for a brief, private prayer, when Molly closed her eyes, bowed her head, and clasped her hands on the tabletop in front of her.

  He blinked at the realization of what she was doing. He’d seen more subtle ways for someone in doubt of their surroundings to pause for a word of grace, but with that hair, he doubted anything this woman did could be subtle.

  “Molly?”

  Her eyes opened and her cheeks reddened.

  “Would you mind if I said grace?”

  The change from her open mouth and red face to her beaming smile almost made him feel lightheaded.

  “I’d love that!”

  A few people briefly turned their heads at her sudden exclamation. Quickly, Ken composed himself, bowed his head, closed his eyes, and folded his hands in his lap under the table. “Dear Lord, thank You for the food You’ve given us, and the day before us. Thank You for Your kindness and mercy, and for Your blessings in the days to come. Amen.”

  He picked up his fork, prepared to start eating, but noticed Molly staring at him.

  “Yes?”

  She turned her head from side to side, checking to see if they were being watched or if anyone around them was listening. “You’re a Christian!” she said in a loud whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “For how long?”

  Ken narrowed one eye. This was not a question he’d been asked before. Everyone he knew didn’t have to ask. “Since I was seven years old.”

  Her eyes opened wide with wonder. She grasped the edge of the table with both hands and leaned forward. “Wow …,” she murmured.

  The brilliant green of her eyes drew him like a magnet. He felt like an idiot, staring at each other across the table while their food cooled, but he couldn’t look away.

  It was almost like another person was asking, but Ken heard his own voice. “How about you?”

  She sat back in her chair and smiled. “A week ago last Wednesday!”

  He’d never spoken to a new believer before, at least not that he knew of. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  “Where do you go to church?”

  “I just arrived in Vancouver this morning, so nowhere, yet.”

  “Have you ever been to Vancouver before?”

  “A couple of times.”

  “It hardly ever snows in the winter here. Some years it doesn’t snow at all. I hear Winnipeg gets tons of snow. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like. It really doesn’t rain in Vancouver as much as people say it does, and there’s so much to see and do. Have you ever been to Science World? It’s not just for kids, they have …” Her voice trailed off and her smile dropped. “Sorry, I think you’d asked me about vacation scheduling.”

  Ken tried not to shake his head. So much had been said since then, he couldn’t remember what he asked.

  He listened politely as a more subdued Molly explained about day-to-day happenings in the office. Before he knew it, they were finished lunch and back at the office.

  For most of the afternoon, he spent his time in the accounting department studying their larger clients’ transaction histories. At the same time, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Molly diligently piling and sorting old and dated files, then placing them in boxes once they were in order.

  At the end of the day, everyone filed out except for Molly. Nancy, the accounting department supervisor, offered to stay, but Ken sent her home as well. Even Uncle Walter l
eft, leaving himself and Molly the only ones remaining in the building.

  Ken walked to the desk as she dropped the last file into a box. “You can go home, Molly. I don’t want you to stay on my account.”

  She shook her head. “No, it took me all day to get these sorted, I don’t want to stop now. Everything is put away that goes in the main storage room. All I’ve got left is what goes in the attic. It should only take me an hour, and then I won’t have it hanging over my head. This way we can get a fresh start tomorrow. I don’t mind.”

  “Then I’ll help you. Together we can do it in half the time.”

  Molly fumbled with the box in her hands and let it drop with a thump on the desktop.

  Since it was Friday, her original plans were to play volleyball with the young adult group at church in the evening. However, because she’d used her lunch break to talk to Ken, she now had to make a choice—to do her errands after supper or go play volleyball, because she didn’t have time to do both. But, if Ken helped her, then there was a chance she could still play.

  She raised her eyes. All she could do was stare at him as he stood before her, waiting for her to say something. Ken Quinlan wasn’t here to do filing. Obviously he was being set up for a supervisory or management position. No doubt his presence had something to do with the rumors everyone was passing around. Even though she didn’t know the long-range plans, word was this move was permanent.

  She cleared her throat and turned toward Ken. “You’re going to put stuff away in the dark, dusty storage room?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a grin that made her breath catch. “Why not? Unless you don’t want my help.”

  “You know this isn’t just carrying boxes to the attic and leaving them on the floor. I have to take out every single file, pull out whichever box they belong in, one at a time, and put them all away so someone can find them again, if needed.”