“Fine,” she said icily. “When do I start?”
“After lunch. Mr. Mackenzie had a very difficult morning with no one to help him.”
“How old is Miss Waterman, by the way?” She had understood the message.
“Twenty-five, I think. Maybe twenty-six. I'm not sure. She's excellent. She's been with him for three years now.” Maybe they were having an affair, Grace decided, and they'd had a fight, and now she was out looking for another job. Anything was possible. She'd see for herself in an hour. He told her to report to Mr. Mackenzie's office at one o'clock. And when she went back to pick up her things, she told Winnie.
“How wonderful!” Winnie exclaimed generously. “I'll miss you, but what a great break for you!” Grace didn't see it that way, and she almost cried when a girl from the typing pool came to replace her. She said goodbye to the two partners she'd worked for for almost six months, and took a bag of her things up to the twenty-ninth floor to Mr. Mackenzie's office. Winnie had promised to call her that afternoon to see how it was going.
“He sounds like a jerk,” Grace had said to her under her breath, but Winnie was quick to reassure her.
“He's not. Everyone who works for him loves him.”
“I'll bet,” she said tardy, and kissed Winnie on the cheek before she left. It was like leaving home, and she was in a rotten mood when she got upstairs. She was annoyed over the high-handedness of it. And she hadn't had time for lunch, and had a terrible headache. Besides which, she really did feel like she was getting the flu from her long walk in the rain the night before. And even being shown to her new office, with a spectacular view up Park Avenue, didn't cheer her. They treated her like royalty, and three of the secretaries who worked nearby made a point of coming out to meet her. It was like a little club up there, and had she been in a better mood, she would have admitted that everyone was very pleasant.
She looked through some papers that the personnel director had left for her, and a list of instructions from her new boss, about some things he needed done that afternoon. They were mostly research calls, and some personal calls too, an appointment with his tailor, and another one for a haircut, and a reservation at ‘21’ the following night, for two people. How sexy, she complained to herself as she read the list. And then started making the phone calls.
When he came back from lunch at two-fifteen, she had made all his calls for him, finished half the research, and taken several messages. In each case, she had handled what the caller wanted from him, and he had no need to return the calls, just to know about their resolution. He was immensely surprised by her efficiency, but not nearly as much as she was when she saw him. The “old guy” she'd expected him to be was forty-two years old, tall, had broad shoulders, deep green eyes, and jet black hair with salt and pepper at the temples. He had a rugged jaw that made him look like a movie star, and he was totally without pretension. It was as though he had absolutely no idea he was even handsome. He walked in very quietly, he had had a working lunch downstairs with some of the other partners. And he was casual and friendly when he greeted her, and praised her for the work she'd done for him so quickly.
“You're as good as they said you were, Grace.” He smiled warmly at her, and she vowed instantly to resist him. She was not going to fall for his looks, or for who he was, no matter what Miss Waterman had done for him. As far as Grace was concerned, she wasn't part of the service. She was extremely formal with him, and not particularly friendly.
For the next two weeks, she made every appointment for him, both business and personal, handled all his calls, attended meetings with him and took accurate notes, and proved herself to be very near perfect.
“She's good, isn't she?” Tom Short asked possessively when he saw Mackenzie alone for a few minutes before a meeting.
“Yes,” the senior partner said cautiously, but without much zeal, and Tom noticed.
“Don't you like her?” Tom immediately sensed a hesitation.
“Honestly? No. She's disagreeable as hell, and she walks around with a broomstick up her ass all day long. She's the most uptight human being I've ever met. She makes me want to throw a bucket of water on her.”
“Grace?” Her old boss looked stunned. “She's so nice, and so easygoing.”
“Maybe she just doesn't like me. Christ, I can't wait to get Waterman back.” But four weeks later, Elizabeth Waterman delivered news that upset them both deeply. She had thought about it a great deal, but after her accident and the way people had treated her as she lay in the subway with a broken hip and leg, she had decided to leave New York for good when she recuperated, and go back to Florida where she came from.
“I suspect this isn't good news for either of us,” Charles Mackenzie said to Grace honestly after he heard. For six weeks, Grace had done an impeccable job for him, and she'd barely said a civil word to him. He had been nothing but friendly with her, and accommodating, but each time she saw him, and noticed again how good-looking he was, and how at ease he was with her and everyone, she hated him all the more. She had convinced herself that she knew his type, he was just waiting for an opportunity to pounce on her and harass her sexually, just like Bob Swanson had done, and she wasn't going to take it. Never again. And certainly not from him. Week after week she saw the women come into St. Andrew's and it reminded her again and again of how rotten men were, how dangerous, and how much damage it could do if you let yourself trust them.
“You're not happy here, are you, Grace?” Charles Mackenzie asked her in a kind tone finally, and she sat noticing how green his eyes were again, reminding herself of how many women he had probably had fail all over him in his life, including Elizabeth Waterman, and God alone knew how many others.
“I'm probably not the right secretary for you,” she said quietly. “I don't have the experience you need. I've never worked in a law firm like this before, or for anyone as important.” He smiled at what she said, but she looked as tense as ever.
“What did you do before this?” He had forgotten.
“I worked in a modeling agency for two years,” she said, wondering what he was after. Maybe he was going to strike now. He would eventually. They all did.
“As a model?” he asked, not surprised, but she shook her head in answer.
“No, as a secretary.”
“It must have been a lot more interesting than a law firm. My job isn't exactly exciting.” He smiled and looked surprisingly young. She knew he'd been married to a well-known actress and they'd never had children. He had been divorced for two years, and according to most reports, he dated a lot of women. She had certainly made plenty of dinner reservations for him, but not all were with women. Some were with his partners and clients.
“Most jobs aren't very interesting,” Grace said sensibly, surprised that he was willing to spend so much time talking to her. “Mine at the agency wasn't either. Actually,” she said, thinking about it, “I like this better. The people here are a lot nicer.”
“It's just me, then,” he said almost sadly, as though she had hurt his feelings.
“What do you mean?” She didn't understand him.
“Well, it's obvious you're not enjoying your work, and if you like the law firm, then it must be me. I get the feeling you hate working for me, to be honest with you, Grace. I feel like I make you miserable every time I walk into the office.” She flushed in embarrassment as he said it.
“No … I … I'm really sorry … I didn't mean to give you that impression …”
“Then what is it?” He wanted to work it out with her. She was the best secretary he'd ever had. “Is there something I can do to smooth things out between us? With Elizabeth leaving permanently, we either have to make it work or give it up, don't we?” Grace nodded, embarrassed now that her dislike for him had been so blatant. It wasn't really anything he had done personally. It was just what she thought he represented. The truth was that he was a lot less of a womanizer than she thought. Only his highly publicized marriage to his famous actre
ss ex-wife had won him that reputation.
“I'm really sorry, Mr. Mackenzie. I'll try and make things a little easier for you from now on.”
“So will I,” he said kindly, and she felt somewhat guilty toward him as she left her office. And even more so when Elizabeth Waterman came to say goodbye to him on her crutches. She said it was like leaving home again for her, and that he was the kindest person she had ever known. She cried when she said goodbye to him and everyone in the office. Grace didn't get the feeling that she was ending a love affair, but felt that she was genuinely heartbroken to leave a much-loved employer.
“How's it going up there?” Winnie asked her one afternoon.
“Okay.” Grace was embarrassed to admit to her how unpleasant she'd been, but she hadn't made any friends on the twenty-ninth floor so far, and her old bosses had been told by several people how disagreeable she was. She knew the reputation she was getting, and that she deserved it. And it embarrassed her even more when Winnie said she'd heard from a number of people that Grace was being very hard on Mr. Mackenzie.
After he talked to her, she made an effort to be pleasant to him a little bit, at least, and she actually started to enjoy the job. She had resigned herself by then to the fact that she was probably not going back to work with Winnie, and her two junior partners. She was no longer fighting it and she had to admit that the job with him was more interesting, when suddenly, in May, Charles Mackenzie told her he had to fly to Los Angeles and he needed her to go with him. She almost had apoplexy over it, and she was shaking when she told Winnie that she was going to refuse to go with him.
“Why, for heaven's sake? Grace, what an opportunity!” For what? To get laid by her boss? No! She wasn't going to do it. In her mind, it was all a setup, and she would be walking into a trap. But when she went in to tell him the next day that she wouldn't go, he thanked her so nicely for being willing to give up her own time and come with him, that she felt awkward refusing to go with him. She even thought about quitting over it, and much to her own surprise, she found herself talking to Father Tim about it at St. Andrew's.
“What are you afraid of, Grace?” he asked gently. She had fear stamped all over her, and she knew it.
“I'm afraid … oh I don't know,” she was embarrassed to tell him but she knew she had to, for her own sake, “that he'll be like everyone else in my life and take advantage of me, or worse. I finally got away from all that when I came here, and now it's starting all over again with this stupid trip to California.”
“Has he ever shown signs of wanting to take advantage of you?” Father Tim asked quietly, “or of sexual interest in you?” He knew exactly what they were talking about and what she was afraid of.
“Not really,” she conceded, still looking miserable.
“Even a little bit? Be honest with yourself. You know the truth here.”
“All right, no, not even a little bit.”
“Then what makes you think that's going to change now?”
“I don't know. People don't take their secretaries on trips unless they want to … you know.” He smiled at her discretion in talking to him. He had heard a lot worse in his life, and a lot more shocking stories. Even her own story wouldn't have shocked him.
“Some people do take their secretaries on trips without ‘you know.’ Maybe he really does need help. And if he misbehaves, you're a big girl, get on a plane and come home. End of story.”
“I guess I could do that.” She thought about it and nodded.
“You're in control, you know. That's what we teach people here. You know that better than anyone. You can walk away anytime you want to.”
“Okay. Maybe I'll go with him.” She sighed and looked at him gratefully, still not totally convinced though.
“Do whatever you think is right, Grace. But don't make decisions out of fear. They never get you anywhere you want to go. Just do what's right for you.”
“Thank you, Father.” The next morning she told Charles Mackenzie that she was definitely able to go to California with him. She still had misgivings about the trip, but she had told herself repeatedly that if he misbehaved, all she had to do was buy herself a ticket and come home. Simple as that, and she had a credit card with which to do it.
He picked her up in a limousine on the way to the airport, and she came out carrying a small bag and looking very nervous. He had a briefcase with him, and he made calls from the car, and jotted down some notes for her. And then he chatted with her for a few minutes and read the paper. He didn't seem particularly interested in her, and she could tell that one of his phone calls had been to a woman. She knew that there was a well-known socialite who called him fre-quently at the office, and he sounded as though he liked her. But Grace didn't get the feeling that he was madly in love with anyone at the moment.
They flew to Los Angeles in first class, and he worked most of the way there, while Grace watched the movie. He was going out to help put together the financial end of a big movie deal for one of his clients. The client had an entertainment lawyer on the West Coast, but Mackenzie represented the big money in the deal, and it was interesting watching him put it together.
It was even more interesting once they got to L.A. They arrived at noon, local time, and went straight to the offices of the entertainment lawyer, and Grace was fascinated by the meetings that took place all day. They were there till six o'clock, which was nine o'clock for her and Charles Mackenzie. He had a dinner date after that, and he dropped her off at the hotel, and told her to charge anything she wanted to the room. They were staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and she had to admit she was excited by four movie stars she saw just passing through the lobby.
She tried to get David Glass's number that night, but he wasn't listed in Beverly Hills or L.A. And she was disappointed. She hadn't heard from him in years, but she would have loved to try to see him. She had a feeling, though, that his wife had wanted him to break the connection with her. She'd divined that just from little things he'd said in his letters. And now she hadn't heard from him at all since the birth of their first baby. It would have been nice to tell him that she was doing well, had a good job, and was happy with her new life. She hoped that all was well with him and was sorry that she couldn't reach him. She still thought of him sometimes, and now and then she missed him.
She ordered room service and watched TV, and ordered a movie she had wanted to see for years but never had time to. It was a comedy, and she laughed out loud alone in her room, and then locked all the windows and doors and even put the chain on the door. She half expected him to pound on her door when he got back, and try to get in, but she slept soundly until seven the next morning.
He called and asked her to meet him in the dining room, and at breakfast he explained the meetings that would take place that day, and what he expected her to do. Like her, he was extremely organized, and he enjoyed his work, and always made hers easier by telling her exactly what was expected.
“You did a great job yesterday,” he praised her, looking very proper in a gray suit and a starched white shirt. He looked more like New York than LA. She had worn a pink silk dress and she had a matching sweater over her shoulders. It was a dress she had bought two years before in Chicago, and it was a little softer-looking than most of the clothes she wore to work at the law firm.
“You look very pretty today,” he said casually, and she stiffened imperceptibly, but he didn't see it. “Did you see any movie stars in the lobby last night?” And then, forgetting his remark about how she looked, she told him excitedly about the four she'd seen, and the movie that had made her laugh so hard when she watched it. For a brief instant, they were almost friends, and he sensed it. She had relaxed a little bit, which made things easier for him. It was so difficult being with her when she was so uptight, he wondered why she was like that sometimes, but he would never have dared to ask her.
“I love that movie,” he laughed, thinking about it. “I saw it three times when it first came out. I hate dep
ressing movies.”
“So do I,” she admitted as their breakfast came. He was eating scrambled eggs and bacon, and she had oatmeal.
“You don't eat enough,” he said sounding fatherly, watching her.
“You should watch your cholesterol,” she chided, although he was very thin, but eggs and bacon were out of favor.
“Oh God, spare me. My wife was a vegetarian, and a Buddhist. All of Hollywood is. It was worth getting divorced just so I could eat cheeseburgers in peace again.” He smiled at Grace and she laughed in spite of herself.
“Were you married for a long time?”
“Long enough,” he grinned. “Seven years.” He had been divorced for two. It had cost him nearly a million dollars to get out of it, but at the time it had seemed worth it, in spite of the economic stress it had caused him. No one had snagged his heart seriously since, and the only thing he really regretted was never having children. “I was thirty-three when I married her, and at the time, I was sure that being married to Michelle Andrews was the answer to all my prayers. It turned out that being married to America's hottest movie star wasn't as easy as I thought. Those people pay a high price for celebrity. Higher than the rest of us know. The press is never kind to them, the public wants to own their souls … there's no way to survive it, except religion or drugs, and either way is not an ideal solution, as far as I'm concerned. Every time we turned around there was another headline, another scandal. It was tough to live with, and eventually it takes a toll. We're good friends now, but three years ago we weren't.” Grace knew from People magazine that she had been married twice since, to a younger rock star, and her agent. “Besides, I was too square for her. Too stiff. Too boring.” Grace suspected that he had offered his former wife the only stability she'd ever had, or would have. “What about you? Married? Engaged? Divorced seven times? How old are you anyway, I forget. Twenty-three?”
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