by Gail Sattler
“Have I just been bamboozled?”
He grinned again. “That depends on your perspective.” Ken checked his watch. “I have a meeting in half an hour. We’d better get that memo done.”
He was gone for most of the day, which made Molly wonder if that were the reason he’d sent the flower, although she had the impression he really hadn’t planned on being gone so long. Whenever she thought no one was looking, she reached out to touch the soft, silky petals and inhale the heady fragrance, then pushed the vase back to the corner of her desk.
It was beautiful and so romantic, and it did make her think of him.
Again, she didn’t get the chance to tell him they shouldn’t see each other, because he’d told her that while at work, they would stick to strictly business.
She didn’t want to think about what would happen after work.
She didn’t get a choice. Ken finally arrived back at the office at nearly quitting time, obligating her to stay overtime to type his notes from the meeting as he dictated them.
He didn’t want to take the chance of forgetting anything overnight since he had nothing written down. By the time they finished, they were the last ones remaining in the building except for the janitorial staff.
“I owe you for staying so late. May I buy you dinner?”
“You bought me dinner yesterday.”
“Then this time you can buy me dinner.”
Molly opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Just kidding, Molly. I’m going to put it on my expense account. Let’s go.”
She studied him as he stood in front of her. After typing his notes, she knew it had been a critical and laborious meeting. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, alluding to a poor night’s sleep in addition to a stress-filled day. Yet, he would still take her to a fine restaurant, be a perfect date, and she knew she would enjoy herself thoroughly, even if he almost fell asleep in his plate.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. You look so tired. Maybe we should both just go home.”
Ken shook his head. “We both have to eat, and I’m sure not cooking.”
The words were out before Molly had a chance to think about what she was saying. “Then why don’t you come over to my place, and I’ll cook something simple for the two of us.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, as much as I appreciate it. You’ve cooked for me so often I feel guilty. But I am tired. Why don’t we pick up some burgers and take them to Uncle Walter and Aunt Ellen’s place? We can put our feet up and relax. They’ll be in the den watching television, so they won’t intrude.”
Going to his home, or at least his temporary home, was the perfect opportunity. Molly could say what she had to say when the time was right, and then leave. “That’s a great idea. Let’s go.”
As soon as they walked in the door, Molly was again reminded of why she shouldn’t be with Ken. As Ken reached for the closet door, Molly studied the fine house, set in the exclusive British Properties of West Vancouver where many movie stars and millionaires lived. The first time she’d been to Walter Quinlan’s home she hadn’t seen much, because that was the day she’d broken Ken’s arm.
At the front entranceway, the marble floor of the foyer met with a rich burgundy carpet for a room that was big enough to be a living room, except its only purpose was to be an opening to go to the “real” rooms in the huge house. A grand winding staircase led to five bedrooms upstairs. To the side of the sweeping staircase was the opening to a vast living room filled with furnishings and trinkets so expensive she dared not breathe on them, never mind touch them. To the other side was the kitchen and a massive dining room, and then down the hall was a den and a family room, all of which had to be kept clean. The main bathroom, with the glass shower enclosure, the Jacuzzi bathtub, and double sinks, was bigger than the kitchen of her apartment.
She couldn’t associate the word “relax” with being in this home, yet Ken was perfectly comfortable here.
Ken opened the closet. “Let me take your coat.” Molly’s heart clenched. She’d watched him at the office. He could lift his coat with one hand to hang it on a coathook, but it took two hands to use a hanger. She could see the effort required to hold and steady her coat with the fingers sticking out of the cast while he maneuvered the hanger to fit into the sleeves with his right hand.
“Let me do that,” she mumbled, and took the coat back.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he waited, then led her into the kitchen, carrying the bag of food. His aunt made a brief appearance, then left them alone, which Molly greatly appreciated. After pausing for a prayer of thanks, they began to eat.
Molly didn’t feel comfortable in the kitchen either. She supposed the room was supposed to look domestic, with copper pots and antique utensils hanging as decorations, but it only emphasized the differences between them.
Molly didn’t belong in the same social circles as someone who thought a place like this was normal. Her whole apartment could fit into the living room of this house, with room to spare.
“This isn’t right. Your first time as my guest, and we’re sitting in the kitchen. I should have set the dining room table and lit some candles.”
Molly couldn’t imagine eating fast-food hamburgers on the white lace tablecloth atop the dark wooden table, using fine china.
Her vision blurred as she projected what it would feel like to sit with Ken in his aunt and uncle’s elegant dining room. The lights would be dimmed, and rather than the standard cliché of sitting across the table lengthwise from each other, they would be sitting side by side.
The candlelight would reflect in Ken’s dark blue eyes, making them shimmer as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. He would smile, and she would smile back, just like in an old movie. He would be wearing a tux with a pristine white shirt and she would be wearing a flowing white gown, and then he would tell her that he loved her as much as she loved him. Violin music would sing its haunting strains in the background, and lovebirds would twitter in the air.
The muffled thwack of the fridge door, followed by a soft clunk, jolted Molly out of her dreamland.
“Sorry, I forgot you like ketchup with your fries. Here you go.”
Molly blinked, hard, as she came back to reality with a thud. They were sitting in the kitchen, the ketchup bottle on the table in front of her.
“Uh, thanks.” She opened the lid and squeezed a blob of ketchup onto the corner of the plate. She’d never eaten fast-food fries on a plate in her life.
Ken plucked off the top bun of his burger and picked out the pickles, popped them in his mouth, then reassembled his burger.
She could relate to the way he ate a hamburger.
Molly shook her head. She didn’t want Ken in her idealistic romantic fantasies, and she didn’t want to like the way he ate. She wanted to find something about him that she didn’t like, something she could focus on to make ending things easy. She couldn’t think of a single thing, except that maybe his nose was a little too big.
Molly swirled a few fries in the blob of ketchup. “You shouldn’t have given me that flower at work, you know.”
“We already went over this. Besides, you spend more time at work than at home, so I gave it to you where you would see it the most.”
She narrowed one eye. “That’s not what I meant. I meant you shouldn’t have given it to me in the first place.”
“Sure I should have. I wanted to give you a little something special.”
She didn’t want anything special from Ken, little or big. He was too easy to fall in love with—she didn’t need help or encouragement. Now it was too late, and it couldn’t continue.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t going to work.”
“I disagree.”
Molly shook her head. “You’re so focused. You’ve got your whole life planned! You have solid goals that you’ve been working on for years. You’re so organized, and I’m …” She glanced around the massive pristine home he felt
so comfortable in and compared it to her one-room apartment. Unless she was expecting visitors, her floor was littered with books and magazines, a few stray socks, and other odds and ends. She tried to set the futon back into a couch when she wasn’t running late but often forgot to put her pillow away. She usually dusted and vacuumed once a week but frequently forgot. She did her grocery shopping the day after she ran out of food. “… I’m not.”
“I know that. It makes you more interesting.”
“Look at you!” She waved one hand in the air. A blob of ketchup from the fry she was holding splatted onto her plate. Before more dribbled, she shoved it into her mouth. “You’re the most comfortable in those custom-tailored suits, perfectly pressed, with perfectly matched ties. My favorite clothes are a five-year-old T-shirt and jeans with a hole in the knee.”
Ken smiled halfheartedly. “Opposites attract?”
“And another thing.” She waved both hands in the air, now that both were free. “How can I face the people I’ve worked with for five years? You’re going to run the company. Probably own it one day! You know how people talk. I’ve already heard some wild rumors about our hot relationship.”
The halfhearted grin turned to a full smile. “Hot relationship?”
Molly crossed her arms and glared at him.
He patted his tie, cleared his throat, and controlled the smile. “You don’t have to worry about what people will say. When we get married, you won’t have to work at all, unless you want to. You wouldn’t necessarily have to work for Quinlan Enterprises either.”
“What!?”
“If you felt awkward, I wouldn’t mind if you quit and went elsewhere to work. I’d understand.”
“Married!?”
He shook his head, then rose to his feet. “I’m sorry—I’m doing this all wrong.” Very slowly, he turned her swivel chair so she now sat facing him. With his hand resting lightly on the wall for balance he sank to one knee, and once aptly positioned, he reached out to grasp her left hand with his right. “I love you, Molly McNeil. Will you marry me?”
All Molly could do was stare at him. He couldn’t love her.
It had been easy to fall in love with him, and she imagined that many women before her had fallen for his kind and gentle ways. She couldn’t imagine how he could possibly have fallen in love with her. She didn’t have a gentle bone in her body.
“This can’t be happening. There’s a logical explanation for this. Everything in your life is all mixed up, and you’re just a little confused. It’s a psychological reaction. The shock of breaking your arm, being uprooted and thrown into staying with your aunt and uncle, the move to a completely different city halfway across the country, the new job, and enormous responsibilities. Soon you’ll settle into a new routine and be able to think more clearly. It’s all been too overwhelming for you.”
He shook his head and squeezed her hand gently. “No, Molly. I’m thinking very clearly—more clearly than in my entire life. I love you, and I want you to marry me.”
Molly yanked her hand away. “No! It isn’t right.” She jumped to her feet, sending the chair skidding back behind her. “I can’t. You don’t.”
Ken rested his hand on the wall for support and rose to his feet. “I do, Molly.”
His choice of words nearly made her heart stop beating. His “I do” echoed through her head. Wedding words. The ultimate vow of love and devotion.
“You can’t. This is all wrong. I wouldn’t be seeing you if I hadn’t broken your arm. This whole mess is my fault. We can’t see each other anymore.”
Before she burst into tears in front of him, Molly grabbed her purse off the floor and dashed out of the room. She ran through the entrance hallway, slamming the front door behind her.
She ran all the way to the car and took off without taking the time to fasten her seatbelt. Before she turned the corner, she glanced in the rearview mirror. The door of the mansion opened, and Ken appeared in the doorway as she drove away.
His shocked expression burned into her heart. But he would see she was right, and he’d get over it.
It was herself she wasn’t sure of.
Chapter 17
Feeling more bleary-eyed than she ever had in her life, Molly pushed open the office door.
If this was what it was like to be in love, she wanted no part of it. Through all the hours of staring up at the ceiling in the dark, she had come to a decision. She was wrong. At first she thought it would be better to work with Ken and keep their relationship strictly business rather than never see him again. Now she knew different. She couldn’t work with him. She couldn’t see him every day and ignore the pain of wanting what she couldn’t have, or worse, pretending everything was okay, when her life would never be okay again. As soon as he settled in and made some friends in his own social circle, he would find a woman more suited to him. Molly knew she couldn’t bear the pain of watching that happen.
She had to leave the job she loved to keep her sanity. Except, since she couldn’t afford to be without an income, she would request to be relieved of her duties as Ken’s assistant and return to her position as receptionist, which was the farthest away she could be, yet remain in the same building. For as long as she could bear it, she had no alternative but to suffer through each day until she found employment elsewhere.
When she walked into the main office on her way to her desk, Ken’s chair was conspicuously vacant. Fortunately, no one watched her as she approached her desk, and all appeared normal.
But it wasn’t normal. Life would never be normal again.
She hung up her coat and headed for her desk, then froze momentarily as Mr. Quinlan’s office door opened. Ken walked out, but instead of turning toward his desk, he continued walking. He did not approach her, but Molly was close enough to notice the dark circles under his eyes and his bleak expression as he walked into Nancy’s vacant office and closed the door.
“Molly, may I see you in my office, please?”
Molly flinched at the sound of Mr. Quinlan’s voice. This was the perfect opportunity to make her request, yet she wanted to run and hide.
Molly stiffened her posture and walked past her desk to Mr. Quinlan’s office.
“Please close the door.”
As she lowered herself into the chair, memories roared through her mind of the day she was called into Mr. Quinlan’s office and assigned to be Ken’s assistant. How suave and sophisticated, yet friendly and gentle he was when they first met. How she’d immediately liked him, how well they worked together. How deeply and honestly he lived his faith and the excellent example he’d been. Most of all, how quickly she’d fallen completely and totally in love with him. The picture of how he lowered himself to one knee as he professed his love and proposed marriage flashed through her mind. She didn’t think she could possibly love anyone more than she loved Ken, but soon he would see that she wasn’t right for him.
Mr. Quinlan sat at his desk, her personnel file in his hand. “Effective immediately, you will be returning to your position of receptionist. You’ve done an admirable job, and your efficiency will be noted for future reference. Next time an opening comes up, you will be given first consideration.”
Molly’s stomach clenched. The possibility of a promotion was now in sight. At one time, it was exactly what she wanted, but now that the moment was upon her, she felt no sense of triumph or accomplishment. Two minutes ago all she wanted was to get her old job back. Now she had it, and the victory was hollow.
Mr. Quinlan continued. “If you’re wondering the reason, Kenneth has requested a transfer back to the Winnipeg office. He’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
Molly gulped. “Tomorrow?”
Mr. Quinlan nodded. “Yes. He’s booking his flight now.”
Molly’s breath caught. She immediately thought of when Robbie was engaged to Mike. When the relationship fell apart, Mike had Robbie fired. But rather than having her fired, Ken had made her job more secure.
Typical of Ken, he did
nothing in half measures. After making sure she would be okay, he was making the breakup as final as could be. He was leaving.
Her mind reeled. Ken had moved from the place of his birth halfway across the country to be here. He’d left his friends, his family, and his home church, everything he knew, to become the future president of Quinlan Enterprises. He’d been preparing himself for this job all his life.
Molly turned her head to stare through the slats of the mini-blinds at the closed door of Nancy’s office, knowing Ken was sitting on the other side.
She began to think through their relationship. Ken didn’t act on impulse. He prepared for everything in his life, through research and planning, until he had the greatest chance of success. He thought everything out to its last possible conclusion. She knew he felt confident about taking over Quinlan Enterprises. He wasn’t leaving because he didn’t want the job. He was giving it up because of her.
But in the same way he had worked and planned toward his future career, Ken wouldn’t act on impulse in his personal life either. Yesterday Molly had been positive that no relationship between them could work. Yet Ken had asked her to marry him.
She knew that Ken took the commitment of marriage seriously. Just as he put all of himself into striving toward his future career, he also had been saving himself personally for the one woman who would be his wife. If he didn’t love her enough to know that marriage between them would work, Ken Quinlan would never have asked. It wasn’t in his nature to take chances.
He really did love her, and he had no doubts concerning their future together.
Molly continued to stare across the room at the closed door.
First she had broken his arm, and now she’d broken his heart.
She had to trust that he knew something she didn’t.
Molly stood so fast she nearly knocked the chair over behind her. “Excuse me,” she said to her boss, who had been watching her the whole time she had been lost in thought. “I have to talk to Ken.”
