by Patricia Kay
Before Zach could open his mouth to reply, Georgie said, also pointedly, “Dr. Pierce, you’ve already been told that it’s me you’ll be dealing with from now on. I’ll be the one calling you.”
Pierce’s gray eyes had darkened, and he’d glared at her. But before he could reply, Zach said, “Yes, Jonathan, Miss Fairchild will be contacting you.”
They were saved additional histrionics by the doctor’s pager going off, and he’d abruptly left the small conference room where the meeting had taken place, but not before giving Georgie the evil eye. She almost laughed. Her eyes had met Zach’s and he’d winked.
Maybe I’ve misjudged him, she thought grudgingly.
She and Zach rode the elevator down to the main floor in silence. There were hospital personnel getting on and off; it paid to be discreet.
Georgie tightened her scarf as they exited the building. She was also glad she was wearing warm leather gloves, because the temperature seemed to have dropped while they were inside. Or maybe the contrast between the warm building and the bitterly cold February wind just made it feel colder out. Georgie did notice how quickly most of the people on the sidewalk were moving, most with their heads down.
Before hailing a cab, Zach turned to her and said, “Do you mind if we stop off at my apartment before going back to the office? I left some files there that I meant to bring with me this morning.”
“No, that’s fine.”
A cab pulled over almost immediately, and they got in. Georgie found she was actually looking forward to seeing where Zach lived. Maybe she’d even get to meet his wife.
“My oldest daughter is home sick today,” he said after giving the driver their destination. “She’s got a strep infection.”
“I used to get those when I was a kid. They’re not any fun.”
“No. She was pretty miserable yesterday, but the antibiotic seems to be doing its job. She seemed better this morning.”
Georgie knew it was none of her business, but he’d given her an opening, so she said, “Is that why you left the office early yesterday afternoon?”
He only hesitated a moment before shaking his head. “No. I had an appointment at Katie’s school.” He sighed. “She’s had a rough time since her mother died.”
Georgie’s mouth went dry. “Your…your wife died?”
“Yes. Jenny…had cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Georgie’s mind spun. A lot of her ideas about Zach had been wrong, then. He wasn’t married. And he wasn’t a playboy who stayed out late every night. He was a widower with three young children. That’ll teach me to be so judgmental, to jump to conclusions about people.
What else had she been wrong about? Maybe he wasn’t a slacker as far as work was concerned, either. He certainly had conducted himself well today, and he definitely seemed to know what he was talking about. She could see that both Jonathan Pierce and Carolyn Love respected him. And Love, in particular, had impressed Georgie as the kind of businesswoman who wouldn’t be easy to fool.
Georgie wondered if Zach would say anything more, but he turned away from her and stared out the window on his side…or pretended to. She wondered how long ago his wife had died. Maybe his children weren’t as young as she’d originally thought. Maybe that photo on his desk had been taken a while ago. But she’d be willing to bet that Zach was only in his thirties. He certainly didn’t look any older than that. So unless he’d married right out of high school, which she was certain wouldn’t be the case, his children couldn’t be that old.
Now she was avidly curious about him. Why hadn’t Alex informed her that Zach was a widower? Yet why should he? She realized Alex rarely repeated anything personal about any of the Hunt Foundation employees, especially since she’d begun working for him. Actually, she appreciated his respect for their privacy. That told her he would not have discussed anything personal about her, either, not with Zach and not with any of the people she’d worked with or for.
Her mind teemed with unanswered questions during the ten-minute cab ride. When the taxi pulled up in front of an apartment building on W. 66th Street, right around the corner from Lincoln Center, Georgie blinked in surprise. Even as a newcomer to the city, she recognized that they were in a high-rent district.
As they exited the cab, a uniformed doorman opened the door of the building as soon as he recognized Zach, saying, “Good afternoon, Mr. Prince.”
“Good afternoon, Thomas.”
The doorman smiled at Georgie.
There was a security guard sitting at a desk in the lobby of the building, and he, too, called Zach by name. “Cold one out there today,” he said as they approached.
“Sure is,” Zach said, then added, “How’s Mona doing?”
“Better,” the guard said. “She’ll get her cast off next week.”
“I know she’ll be glad.” Turning to Georgie, Zach said, “This way,” and led her around the corner to a bank of three elevators.
Georgie couldn’t help thinking what a fortune this building must cost to live in. How did Zach afford it? She knew his job at the foundation couldn’t begin to pay enough to live on this scale. In fact, she knew, because Alex had recently mentioned it, that the board of directors had been talking about raises for the administrative staff since salaries at the Hunt Foundation had been found to be lower than comparable companies, and if they wanted to remain competitive and attract the best employees, they had to spend some money.
When the elevator doors opened on the eleventh floor, Georgie wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find they were already in Zach’s apartment, but instead they walked out into a hallway. There were two entrances that Georgie could see. Zach headed for a double doorway midway down the right side of the hall. After unlocking the doors, he gestured her ahead of him.
They entered a small foyer containing an antique lowboy upon which sat an ornate Chinese vase filled with fresh flowers. “It’s me, Fanny,” Zach called. Seconds later, an attractive fifty-something woman with dark hair and a pleasant smile greeted them.
“Fanny, this is Georgie Fairchild, my new assistant. Georgie, I’d like you to meet Fanny Whittaker, our housekeeper and the one person I can’t live without.”
Georgie smiled and shook the woman’s hand. The housekeeper’s hazel eyes, filled with intelligence, gave Georgie a quick once-over.
“How’s Katie doing?” Zach asked.
“She’s much better today, Mr. Prince. In fact, she’s watching a movie now. I fixed her some tea and cinnamon toast.”
“And where’s Emma?” He turned to Georgie. “Emma’s my three-year-old. Normally, when she’s around, you can’t get a word in edgewise.”
“Sabrina took her for the day,” Fanny said.
“Sabrina’s a saint.”
“Well, Emma was driving poor Katie crazy. She wanted to play Go Fish and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Zach shook his head. “She’s a pistol,” he said to Georgie. “When she sets her mind to something, you cannot sway her.”
Georgie laughed. “Sounds like me when I was little. Actually, my sisters would say that sounds like me now.”
“Uh-oh,” Zach said. “That doesn’t bode well for me, does it?”
Georgie shrugged. “We’ll see. Depends on whether you agree with me or not.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Katie.”
A few minutes later, they stood in the family room, whose windows faced Central Park. Although it was bitterly cold outside, the afternoon sun gave the illusion of warmth as it streamed through the windows. Katie was propped against pillows on one of two matching love seats and covered by a gaily patterned quilt. A TV tray sat next to her, and Georgie could see the remnants of her snack along with a box of tissues.
Zach’s daughter had his dark hair, but her eyes were a warm brown and her face was heart-shaped. Even seated, Georgie could tell she was petite. Her face lit up at her father’
s appearance. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, honey. Fanny tells me you’re feeling better today.”
Katie nodded. “Lots better.”
“Katie, I want you to meet my new assistant. This is Miss Fairchild. Georgie, this is my daughter Katie.”
“Hi, Katie.”
“Hello, Miss Fairchild.”
“Oh, please. Call me Georgie. Everyone does.” Georgie smiled at the girl.
Katie studied her as if considering. Her expression remained noncommital.
“We had a meeting at the Carlyle Clinic and we’re on our way back to the office,” Zach said. “We just stopped by to pick up some files.”
“Oh.”
There was no mistaking the disappointment in Katie’s voice.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’ll try to be home early. In the meantime, get a lot of rest. When I get home, we’ll have a game of chess.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Emma and Jeremy will be here by then.”
“I know, but we’ll still have our game, I promise.”
Katie shrugged. “Whatever.” In that gesture, Georgie saw all the times Katie’s interests had had to take a backseat to her younger siblings’ demands for attention. Georgie could relate. As much as she now loved her sisters, she could remember all those times she wished they’d just disappear.
Bending down, Zach kissed his daughter on the cheek. “We’ve got to get back to the office now, but I’ll be home no later than six.”
Katie sighed. “Okay.” She picked up the remote and before they’d even left the room, Georgie saw that the movie was playing again.
Cornelia hated being late. She felt it was rude and sent the message that you thought your time was more valuable than the person’s you were meeting. But today her lateness was unavoidable, because when she’d gotten in her car she’d discovered her battery was dead.
She’d immediately called Kit Hoover, the old friend she was meeting for lunch at the club, and Kit said not to worry. Then Cornelia had called a cab. She simply didn’t have time to deal with her car this morning.
“You’re looking very chic today,” Kit said as Cornelia approached their table, where Kit was already halfway through a glass of wine. She eyed Cornelia over the tops of her oversized red frames, which she wore perched halfway down her nose. Kit kept her short hair dyed the black of her youth and had half a dozen pairs of glasses with bright frames that matched her outfits. Today was no exception; she wore a fire-engine-red pants suit.
“Thank you. So are you. I like the red,” Cornelia said, sitting opposite her friend. Cornelia rarely, if ever, wore primary colors, favoring instead the soft, muted shades that were more suitable to her peaches-and-cream coloring.
“And I love that sea-green dress,” Kit said. “On you, at any rate.” She drank another healthy slug of wine.
Cornelia told herself she was not Kit’s mother, nor was it her job to monitor how much Kit drank. But sometimes Kit’s tendency to over-imbibe bothered Cornelia.
They didn’t talk while Cornelia looked over the menu, then gave their orders to their waiter, an older man who had been working at the club almost as long as Cornelia had been a member. He greeted Cornelia with a big smile. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Fairchild,” he said.
“Thank you, Fred.”
After he left to place their orders, Kit said, “So what’s new? I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“That’s because you haven’t,” Cornelia said, laughing. “Well, let’s see. My Seattle-based girls are all busy and happily in love.”
“What about Georgie? She still roaming around the world?”
Cornelia was in the middle of telling Kit about Georgie’s new job in New York when Kit suddenly sat up straighter, looked beyond Cornelia and said, “Well, hello, Greg.”
Cornelia’s heart gave a little hop, and she turned around. She hadn’t seen the golf pro for a while; he’d been participating in a tournament in Hawaii and had also taken some personal time, but now he was obviously back.
“Hello, Kit, Cornelia.” Greg’s smile encompassed them both, but his blue eyes focused on Cornelia and remained there.
“We missed you,” Kit said. “How’d you do in Hawaii?”
“Not bad. Came in sixth.”
“When did you get back?” Cornelia asked.
“Last night.”
Cornelia knew she wasn’t in love with Greg, but she had to admit that he always got her blood stirring. It was very flattering to know that he found her attractive and wanted to be with her. At forty-nine, he could have had his pick of younger women, yet he seemed to prefer her company.
“Well, we’re glad you’re home,” Kit said. Her gaze lasered in on Cornelia. “Aren’t we, Corny?”
Cornelia could feel herself flushing, and she wanted to kick Kit. “Yes, we are. And I’m delighted you did so well in the tournament.”
“Thank you.” Greg looked at the table. “Are you two just starting lunch or just finishing up?”
“Just starting,” Kit said before Cornelia could answer. “Would you like to join us?”
Greg looked at Cornelia. “Do you mind?”
“No, no, of course not.” But Cornelia did mind. She’d been looking forward to a relaxing meal. Now she’d have to be on her toes, because with Kit there, avidly listening to every word, conversation would be a minefield she’d have to carefully navigate.
Their waiter noticed the addition at the table almost immediately and came over to take Greg’s order.
Once he’d left them alone again, Greg turned to Cornelia, “I’m glad I ran into you today, because I have some news. In fact, I planned to call you later.”
Cornelia knew Kit would be storing up every morsel of gossip. “Good news, I hope.”
Greg shrugged. “It is good news, but there’s bad news that comes along with it.”
“Well, come on. Don’t keep us in suspense,” Kit said.
Still looking at Cornelia, he said, “I’ve been offered a terrific job in Hawaii.”
Cornelia couldn’t hide her surprise. He had taken her completely off guard. “That’s wonderful, Greg,” she finally managed to say.
“Greg!” Kit said. “But that means you’ll be leaving us.”
“Yes,” he said, finally turning to Kit, “that’s the bad news.”
Cornelia used the few seconds his attention was directed elsewhere to pull herself together again. She wasn’t sure why Greg’s news had affected her so strongly. After all, she had never viewed their relationship as anything but pleasant and temporary. “You’ve accepted, then.”
His eyes met hers again. “I haven’t officially, but I plan to. It’s just too good an opportunity to pass up.” This last was said more softly, almost apologetically.
“I’m glad for you, Greg,” she said, meaning it. But she would miss him. Funny that she hadn’t realized how much she had begun to count on him as a good friend. And, if she were being completely honest with herself, as someone who made her feel important…and almost young again.
They continued to discuss the new job and what it would entail until their food arrived. Once again, they fell silent for a few minutes. But after Fred was gone and they’d begun to eat—Cornelia her chicken salad, Kit her tuna tartare and Greg his ribeye special—Greg said, “You know, I’m still wondering why this opportunity came my way. I asked how they’d decided on me, but I never really got an answer.”
“Well,” Kit said, “obviously your reputation preceded you.” She took a bite of her tuna. “Yum. No one does tuna like Paulo.”
“One of the other golfers mentioned that a Seattle company was heavily invested in the resort where I’ll be working,” Greg said. “Maybe that had a bearing on their decision to offer me the job.”
Cornelia put her fork down. “A Seattle company? Which one?”
Greg speared a fry. Smiled at her. “HuntCom.”
“HuntCom,” Cornelia repeated.
Perhaps her tone sounded odd, because
Greg frowned a little and said, “Yes. You know the company, don’t you?”
“Know it?” Kit squealed. “Why, Cornelia’s husband was one of the founders of HuntCom.”
“Really?” he said. “I had no idea.”
“Yes, well,” Cornelia said, keeping her tone light even though her insides were churning. “It’s old news. Very old news.”
“But you’re still very good friends with Harry Hunt,” Kit persisted.
Cornelia now wanted to strangle Kit, even though she was sure Kit had no idea how uncomfortable Cornelia felt, because Cornelia had never even hinted at her feelings for Harry. In fact, she’d kept the subject of Harry Hunt out of all her conversations with Kit…and just about everyone else. She’d always been too afraid of giving herself away. “Yes,” she admitted, because she really had no choice, “Harry and I are old friends.”
“Maybe you could ask him why they picked me,” Greg said.
Oh, I’ll ask him, all right. And that’s not all I’ll ask him. “If I ever have the opportunity, I will.” She picked up her fork again and took a bite of her chicken. But it no longer tasted good. Cornelia knew, without ever having to hear one word of explanation from Harry, that he had done what he did best. He had gotten rid of the competition.
Cornelia didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious.
One thing she did know. Harry had never intended for her to find out about his behind-the-scenes machinations.
She almost felt sorry for him.
When Zach and Georgie got back to the office, Deborah greeted Zach with a slew of phone messages. “You’d better call Jonathan Pierce first,” she said. “He didn’t sound happy.”
“That man is a royal pain.”
“Don’t I know it! He nearly snapped my head off.” Deborah made a face and looked at Georgie. “I don’t envy you working with that man.”
Zach heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’ll call him.”
Zach closed his office door before picking up the phone. If Pierce was going to be hard-nosed, he might have to be told some home truths.
“I resent the fact that you’re handing me off to some second-rate assistant,” Pierce said without preamble.
