When they walked in the door there was no uniformed doorman standing at a podium. Instead, there was a tall, husky man in black pants and a dark blue shirt. He greeted Patrick like an old friend, slapping him on the back and immediately launching into conversation. His accent, strong but slightly different from Pat’s, wove through his words, lending a rumbling depth to them.
While the men were occupied Mira took a look around. A long bar covered one wall with half the stools occupied by people dressed in a variety of clothes. She began to feel slightly out of place in her finery until she spotted a few women attired in cocktail dresses sipping what looked to be wine. The bar itself, she realized, may have looked aged, but it was made of deep, rich mahogany that gleamed with care. The booths and tables that were scattered around the large room were made of the same dark wood. Their seats covered with buttery leather cushions in a deep wine.
Pat requested the most private seating area available and they were shown to a back booth, hidden from view by a few large, potted plants. He could have made the request in order to give Mira a nice, relaxed atmosphere to unwind in, but she knew him better than that. He obviously wanted the privacy so that he could grill her mercilessly without fear of interference. Normally, that might have bothered her, but she was really hungry and the smells coming from the kitchen were divine. With a mental shrug, she slid into the booth across from Pat. For a taste of that food, she could handle an inquisition.
Pat immediately opened his mouth, but before he could say anything a suited waiter appeared to take their drink orders.
As soon as they were alone, Mira leaned toward Pat. If he was planning on making her spill she might as well get the drop on him. She might actually learn something from the closemouthed Irishman. “So what’s so important that you dressed up and sprang for an expensive restaurant?” she asked. Curiosity was eating at her.
He tugged at his tie as if it were choking him. “I dress up.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Really? When was the last time?”
He scratched his head, obviously trying to remember. Finally, he shrugged. “I wore a suit when you got your graduate diploma.”
“That was five years ago,” she reminded him. “Anyway, you’re avoiding the question. What did you bring me here to talk about?”
His face flushed and he shifted in his seat. “Could we no wait for the drinks to arrive first?”
Perhaps he didn’t intend on giving her the fourth degree, Mira thought. The normally confident man suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Her curiosity ratcheted up a notch and she thought about pushing. It wouldn’t be respectful, though, and he deserved that much from her. She sighed. “Sure we can wait.”
He gave her a sickly smile and looked relieved.
“How is James doing?” she heard herself ask, cringing at the girlish enchantment that she could still detect in her voice. It was ridiculous to still feel this tug whenever his name was mentioned or his face came to her mind. They hadn’t seen each other or even spoken since before her parents had passed away. Even so, she found herself tensing as she waited for Pat’s reply.
Just as Pat looked ready to answer, the waiter showed up with their drinks — a deep red wine for her and a pint of Guinness for Pat. He put the glasses on the table and pulled out a pad. “Have you decided on food yet?” he asked. “I highly recommend the grilled haddock.”
“Actually, we would both like the steak pie,” Pat said, looking a Mira for confirmation.
She nodded.
“An excellent choice.” He wrote the order on his pad with quick even strokes and slid it back in his apron. “I’ll have that out to you as soon as possible.”
As soon as the waiter left, Mira looked at Pat. “Well,” she prodded when he remained silent. “How is James?”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He paused and took a healthy swallow of his beer.
For some reason his attitude reminded her of that dark night when he had shown up at her school with the horrible news of her parents’ death. Her heart picked up speed, beating a little frantically. “What happened?” she demanded. “Is he hurt?”
“No, no, it’s not anything like that. As far as I know James is fine. And from what I’ve read in magazines and seen on the news that business he built is doing grand.” The pride rung in his voice, but mixed with it was a bit of wistfulness.
“Are you and James still not talking? You two are both way too stubborn.” She picked up her glass and took a restorative sip, sighing with pleasure when the bold, rich taste flooded her mouth. “I’m glad that James is doing so well and I’ve heard a lot of good things about EcoSpace. Before this media circus happened I would have loved to work at a place like that. They’re on the forefront of what promises to be a revolutionary business.” She sighed. “But it’s not to be. I’ll have a hard enough time getting a job at an unknown firm.”
“Ah, now what is it you’re talking about?” Patrick said gruffly. “Here you are an excellent, respected architectural designer.”
“Who turned on her employer.”
“You did the right thing, me girl, and I bet that James would agree with me. After all, you did something in the way of a good deed for the environment and James’ company specializes in low-impact buildings and the like.” He pulled his gaze from hers and looked into his beer, studying it as if it contained the answers to the universe. “I’ve heard that his company is hiring,” he continued somewhat offhandedly. “Sure as faith you’d get the job. What with your experience and reputation. You wouldn’t mind moving to North Carolina now, would you?”
“Wait a second! This is you’re plan?” She paused and took a long drink of wine, trying to calm herself. “Do you want me to act like some kind of mediator to bring the two of you back together? If that’s your wish go and talk to him yourself.”
“Calm down lass. That’s no my plan. I was merely making a wee suggestion. You don’t have to follow it. But, you’d be a fool to no consider it.”
Perhaps she had been a bit too hasty, Mira thought. Her heart picked up speed at the thought of finally seeing James again and, she rationalized, EcoSpace was a fabulous company. It would be an exciting, challenging job. Unfortunately, there was one other obstacle besides the recent court case. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms. Do you think he’ll know who I am? Will it even matter to him?” she asked.
The food had just arrived and Pat was already digging in, barely pausing to clear his mouth with gulps of beer.
“Slow down,” she warned, “or you’re going to choke on your food. On second thought, I might just choke you myself if you don’t pay attention.”
He stopped eating and put down his fork. “Of course he knows who you are. Hasn’t your name been in all the business journals? Besides, I’m sure that he wouldn’t hire someone without researching them first.”
He was being deliberately obtuse and his face was starting to turn red, a sure sign that there was something else going on here. She tried to imagine what it could be, but the rich meaty smell was starting to distract her. Perhaps, she mused, if she ate something she would be able to concentrate better.
At the first bite, Mira simply closed her eyes and enjoyed.
“Told you it was good,” Pat mumbled as he slopped some spilled gravy with a bit of pastry.
“Don’t distract me.” She picked up a heaping forkful and moaned with delight. “I’m having a religious experience here. We’ll talk later.”
“Suits me,” Pat mumbled.
For several minutes the clanking of forks and the occasional sigh of pleasure were the only sounds.
When they were both finished, the plates were cleared away, and they sat with coffee, Mira picked up the conversation. “Why did my last question make you nervous, Pat? Professionally, I’ve always been Mira Anders. Do you think he’ll know that I’m also Mira Sweeney?”
“I never understood why you did that,” he groused. “You were no m
arried for more that six months.”
She thought about the young, carefree man with a sense of bittersweet regret. “That’s the reason that I kept Kevin’s name. He was a young man with no family. He died too young. If I hadn’t kept his name, there would have been nothing to remember him by.”
“You’re no still pining away for love of him, are you? You’re still a woman and much too young to lock yourself up like that.” He clasped her shoulders and shook her.
“Where did you get such a ridiculous notion?” She reached up and pulled his hands away. “I kept his name as a sign of respect and a reminder that he mattered to someone. Yes there are times when I still mourn the potential that we never had the chance to realize, but I’m not the kind of person who would pine away for a man.” Except for James Kelly, she added silently. Of course, she had finally gotten over him. Thinking of him, however, reminded her of their original topic.
She narrowed her eyes and glared at Pat. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Does James know who I am?”
He cleared his throat and looked away.
“Oh my God. He doesn’t know, does he? What can you be thinking? This will never work. James hasn’t spoken to me in almost 15 years. He never answered my letters or calls and he stayed away from your house when I visited from school, even before Fiona died. For some reason he decided to cut me entirely out of his life. What makes you think he’s changed his mind?”
“He never disliked you, honey,” Patrick reassured her. “You just made him feel more deeply then he was comfortable with and it wasn’t you James avoided. He stayed away because of me and tis nae something that I’m willing to talk about yet. There was much more going on than you were aware of.”
She felt a small spark of hope. “How do you know that? Did he say something?”
“No, but I’m his father, I could tell.”
“Perhaps, but, tell me truthfully. Did he ever ask about me when you did talk?”
“No exactly, but the fact that he made an effort not to mention you must mean something.”
“Yeah, it means that he didn’t think of me.” She sighed, defeated. “It was a nice thought, but I guess I’ll start looking for work tomorrow.”
He stood and placed a twenty on the table. “Don’t give up so easily girl.”
“What do you mean,” she said as they walked outside and waited for the cab that the bartender had called. “What else can I do?”
“He hasn’t seen you in years and your name has changed. You’d no have to tell him who you are.”
A cab pulled up and he ushered her in.
“Why is it so important to you?” Mira asked curiously as they headed back to Boston.
He gave her a sad-eyed look. “You’re like a daughter to me and I’m no getting any younger. I’d like to see my children speaking to each other before I die.” His eyes turned misty and faraway, as if he was looking into the future and liked what he saw. “You’d make me beautiful grandbabies.”
“What?”
Pat waved his hand. “Oh tis nothing but the ramblings of an old man.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I’ve already spoken to his secretary. She’ll be expecting to hear from you. It’ll no hurt to give them a call.”
“This is ridiculous,” she said, but she took the paper anyway.
**********************************************************
God this is so stupid, Mira thought as she headed toward the assigned gate. She glanced franticly around the crowded terminal at Logan Airport and tried to make sense of a world that seemed to have gone crazy. Parents stood by chairs, clutching the hands of sleepy looking children. Young couples sat on benches resting against each other. Men and woman in wrinkled business suits clutched briefcases or talked on cell phones. A beautiful young woman walked by holding the hand of a dark haired toddler. They spoke to each other in rapid Italian. It was a sight that she had seen many times, but she somehow felt divorced from the scene, like she was merely watching a bad movie.
Delta Flight 6970, non stop service to Raleigh-Durham International is now boarding at Gate A10.
The announcement seemed to come from nowhere, but it brought her back to herself. If she were to start screaming and run from the airport, she thought with a return to humor, she’d probably be taken into custody and interrogated as a possible terrorist. It would be just her luck. She took a deep breath and checked that her bag was still slung securely over her shoulder.
This is the final call for Delta flight 6790 to Raleigh-Durham International. All passengers please report to gate A10 for boarding.
If things didn’t work out she rationalized, she could always change her mind. Besides, her chin lifted, she had never been a coward and she wouldn’t become one now.
Will Mira Anders please report to Gate A10 for boarding. Passenger Anders please report to Gate A10 for boarding.
Ignoring the stares, Mira clutched her bag and sprinted toward the gate.
Chapter 6
Raleigh, NC
The meeting at EcoSpace was scheduled for 10 a.m. Unfortunately, it was already quarter till and she wasn’t even close. Mira looked out the windshield at the unfamiliar street and the slow moving traffic and groaned. Five more minutes and she would have to call and tell them that she would be late. Damn it, this shouldn’t have happened, she thought as she turned down yet another street and hit a dead end. She had actually left early.
Granted, she had been so exhausted by the time she had picked up the rental car and checked into the hotel last night that she had done the bare minimum before falling into bed, but she had set the alarm to wake her two hours ago so that she would have enough time to do everything. True, she had spent 20 minutes making sure her hair and makeup were right and trying to choose between the two suits she had brought with her.
In the end she had gone with the deep red suit that elegantly showcased her body. A judicious use of eye shadow had made her eyes glow like emeralds. It was just a plus that the short skirt and strappy sandals with two-inch heels helped show off her toned legs. She had, however, built in extra time and even with the extra minutes spent primping she had left in plenty of time. She just hadn’t planned on getting lost. The directions had seemed so simple.
A horn honked behind her and she realized that she was just sitting in the middle of the street despite the fact that the light had changed. Restraining the urge to swear at the other driver, she spun the wheel and pulled into a nearby parking lot. Her cell phone was easy enough to find since it had a special pocket in her bag, but it took another five minutes to find the stupid phone number. It seemed that no matter how often she cleaned out her purse it always ended up packed again. The thing was like a black hole. In frustration, she turned it over and emptied the whole mess onto the passenger seat. Of all places, the slip of paper was stuck to the back of her check book with what appeared to be an old wad of gum, which was strange because she didn’t even like chewing gum. Oh well, she thought, she could still read the number. She flipped open the phone and dialed. After two rings it was picked up.
“EcoSpace Industries, Mr. Kelly’s office. How can I help you?”
She tried to make her voice apologetic and not frantic. “Hello, this is Mira Anders. I have an interview this morning with Mr. Kelly, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be late.”
“Yes, I remember you,” the pleasant voice said. “I’m Mary Beecham, James Kelly’s secretary. We spoke last week. Are you ill?” she asked, concern evident in her voice. “Would you like me to see if the meeting can be rescheduled for another day?”
“I’m fine,” Mira reassured her, “and I hope rescheduling isn’t necessary. I’m already on my way, but I seem to have gotten lost.”
“Hmm. What street are you on?”
“I started on a street called Capital Boulevard. The directions said to come this way, but the road split and now I’m not sure where I am.”
“Oh, honey,” Mary groaned. “I should
have said something. No one takes that road unless they have to. It even confuses locals.”
Mira heard the sound of a drawer opening and the rustling of paper before Mary came back on the line.
“I’ve got a map here,” she said. “If you’re no longer on Capital you need to turn around and head back the way you came. Take a left at the set of lights directly before the split. Just after the road turns back into Capital,” she clarified. “You should see a gas station at the corner. Make a right and our building is at the very end of the street. The boss is on a conference call so you should still make it.”
“I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you so much.” Mira disconnected and pulled back into traffic, hopefully in the right direction.
Ten minutes later she found herself in the parking lot of a low brick building. It sat at the end of a street, screened from the constant noise of a big city by a thick line of trees. As she got out of the car and walked toward the building, she noticed that the roof seemed oddly reflective. Upon closer examination she realized that it was almost completely covered by solar panels. Her foot slipped on a loose pebble and she wind-milled her arms to keep from falling. She quickly pulled her eyes down and focused on watching where she was going. With her eyes front, she made it to the doors without any more trouble.
The spacious lobby that she entered had an earthy, but luxurious feel to it that Mira silently approved of. It was decorated in shades of brown and green with color provided by several vibrant landscape paintings on the cream walls. The obviously expensive conversation grouping that sat to one side looked like it was made of all natural materials. The receptionist standing behind a half-moon desk shouted trendy and fashionable.
Like any self-respecting receptionist — at least the way books and TV portrayed them — she was beautiful — tall, blond, and sleek with laser blue eyes and a form-fitting forest green suit that showed of her curvy body. The blond woman’s perfection made Mira feel slightly dowdy in her own carefully chosen outfit, but she determinedly ignored the feeling and stepped forward.
Running from Fate Page 4
