A Day at the Office or The Bastard

by Jane Oldaker

  Chapter One

  Glancing up from the task at hand, Molly saw that a car had pulled up to the job site and parked. The occupant - a masculine figure in a dark overcoat - alighted and proceeded across the November mud. He stopped and spoke to one of the workmen who nodded and pointed toward Molly. The man began picking his way among the discarded ends of lumber and other debris that littered the area. Molly looked at her watch and saw that it was ten-fifteen. Certain it was the man she was expecting, Molly quickly removed her tool belt.

  The appointment was scheduled for ten-thirty and Molly had planned on having fifteen minutes to make sure she had all her drawings and materials, collect her thoughts and check her appearance. She felt as if her confidence had gone out the window along with her preparation time.

  “Do I look presentable?" asked Molly when her assistant Sue appeared at her elbow with the sheaf of drawings and several manila file folders that were required for the meeting. Sue scrutinised her carefully before answering. The wavy red hair was neatly contained in a ponytail, Molly's clear complexion was unsmudged, as were her clothes. Molly's trim figure was neatly clad in the faded clean denims and flannel shirt that befitted the kind of work she did. Sue noted the nervousness in Molly's green eyes.

  "You look just fine." she said firmly, "Don't worry, this project will sell itself."

  "He's early." said Molly tersely as the man drew nearer.

  "You'll be fine." repeated Sue, walking away just as the man drew close.

  Paul Farnsworth's eyes remained locked on Molly from the moment he got out of his car, hoping that she was the woman he was supposed to meet. When the workman he spoke to confirmed that she was, his step grew lighter. She was quite a looker and put him in mind of an Irish folk song his mother used to sing. Her name was the same as the song, Molly Malone. He could hear the song in his mind. 'In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty, t'was there I first met sweet Molly Malone. He would never hear that song again without thinking of this Molly, she was the perfect image for the song.

  "Are you Molly Malone?" The man asked her.

  "Yes I am." said Molly with dignity hoping to set the right tone for a business discussion. If this meeting went well she would be one step closer to realising her dream. It was important to stay cool and professional. Paul Farnsworth had been formal and business-like on the phone so Molly felt compelled to follow suit. The man gave her an appraising look. Don't show any fear, Molly urged herself.

  "Sweet Molly Malone." Paul said absently. It suited her perfectly. He was still thinking of the song and didn't realise he had spoken.

 

  "Like I've never heard that one before." snapped Molly as stress flooded out of her. This clown was obviously not the person she was waiting for. Paul Farnsworth, with whom she was only acquainted by phone, was mature, intelligent and consummately professional, words which would never describe this idiot. "May I ask who you are and why you're here?" asked Molly in a tone that would freeze out an Eskimo. The man seemed both puzzled and startled by her demeanour.

  "I'm Paul Farnsworth." he said, extending his hand toward her. "We had an appointment to discuss the possibility of my consortium providing you with venture capital for your development." Molly's heart sank like a stone and she wished the ground would open and swallow her up.

  "Of course we did. I'm terribly sorry, but you're early and I thought you were somebody else." she finished, wanting to throw up. She looked him over, trying not to let him see that she did. He was very good looking, she noticed. Tall, with an athletic build, he had straight dark hair that looked as if it would have to be frequently brushed out of his eyes. He had deep blue eyes that seemed to look right through her. A long straight nose and sensuous lips, the bottom lip fuller than the upper completed an arresting set of features. A slight fullness in the cheeks gave his face a boyish quality.

  "So I am." he said, consulting his watch. "I apologise, shall we start again?" Molly felt another sickening wave overtake her and was having difficulty ordering her thoughts. "It's nice to meet you." he said offering his hand once more.

  "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." stammered Molly. The hand she took was smooth and manicured, but strong as well. The heat that radiated from it warmed her hand which was cold and clammy from the November chill. "I'm Molly Malone." She was completely rattled by now.

  "Yes. I know." Paul Farnsworth said, shooting her a look. "I asked you that. Remember?" Molly's eyes flew wide open in horror as she saw her chance, for which she had worked so hard, slipping ever further away.

  "I'm sorry. I.." she couldn't remember what she had started to say.

  "It's perfectly alright." he said crisply to cover his own embarrassment. "Perhaps we should look at your plans."

  Worser and worser, Molly thought. On the telephone he had sounded interested and enthusiastic, now he seemed utterly indifferent. His manner was detached and smoothly professional. He can't wait to blow me off, Molly thought. Paul cursed himself for the idiotic reference to the folk song. He was finding that Molly had a peculiar effect on him.

  "I have the drawings right here." said Molly dejectedly, spreading them out for him to see. She was certain that the opportunity had gone sailing down the river and that he was now only looking at her proposal to be polite. They spent the next hour and a half discussing Molly's plans for an upmarket subdivision just north of Uxbridge, Ontario. Molly had purchased a tract of land there and wanted to build reproduction Victorian mansions.

  Uxbridge was expanding, Molly explained and had already acquired many of the charms required to entice prospective owners for these luxurious and costly homes. It had chic stores and a couple of fine restaurants, in addition to a reputation for good schools and peaceful living. Not to mention the setting, she continued, the town already had many homes dating from the period Molly wished to emulate, that had been lovingly restored, creating the feeling that one had stepped back in time. The whole effect was charming and picturesque, the perfect complement to the enclave Molly proposed to build. It would be situated north of the town, less than ten minutes from the central shopping district. The tract of land was gently rolling with plenty of mature trees, many of which Molly intended to integrate into the final landscaping scheme.

  Molly's vision was truly breathtaking. She proposed to build seven estate homes on the twenty-one acre parcel. Utilising the natural features of the landscape, Molly had sited the homes so that none had any view of any of the others, affording the residents the ultimate in privacy. Each was to be a lavishly appointed representative of Victorian design. Historically accurate, they would nonetheless have up to the minute modern amenities, making for a brilliant marriage of old and new. Victorian houses of all types, Molly pointed out, were both common and popular in Ontario. Authentic reproductions with state of the art conveniences were absolutely unheard of and therefore bound to be sought after.

  Molly finished her pitch on auto pilot. She was acutely embarrassed by her faux-pas at the start of their meeting and was certain that all that followed it was nothing more than a humiliating waste of time for them both. She found the presence of Paul Farnsworth somewhat distracting as well. She was unsure if her discomfiture was due to the egg on her face from their introduction, or due to the way his expensively cut overcoat draped over his broad shoulders and his custom made suit flattered his lean frame. She found herself suppressing the urge to push his hair off his face. It had fallen into his eyes, just as she had known that it would. The fact that she found him attractive irritated her no end. The first thing she had done when she met him was to humiliate herself, and there couldn't have been less sign of encouragement. The mischievous glint had vanished from his eyes, they were now flat and expressionless. He had not smiled since she began her proposal, and he hardly spoke, barely acknowledging that he heard anything Molly said.

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