Snowed In With A Billionaire

Another participant had just dialed in. "Good afternoon. May I have your name and title?"

"Bill McConnell, CEO."

"Thank you, Mr. McConnell, you are now checked into the sub-conference. Is there anything you need?"

"I was about to ask you the same question. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, thank you sir, I believe I do." The IR guy and call leader, Donnie Kingman, had spent ten minutes giving her updates to her script and griping about how much he hated earnings calls. She didn't say that, though. Rather she replied, "I have all the updates Mr. Kingman, and nearly all the participants have checked in. I expect the rest will be dialing in any moment now."

"Good. Good. And your name is?"

"Amanda." She could hear the scratch of pen on paper.

"I like to know so we can use your name during the call, Amanda" he explained. "I think it makes us seem friendlier, more personal."

"I agree, sir."

"This is your first time with Forlanie, isn't it? Are you new?"

"Yes, sir. And this is my first earnings call," she said, neatly avoiding the wider aspect of his question. It was her first week working as a conference operator. This was, in fact, her first really big, important call. She'd done a couple of inter-office calls for various companies, but that was just signing people in and making sure the right people got heard at the right time. This call was different, and though she'd never have admitted it to a stranger, particularly one who was paying her salary, Amanda was a little nervous.

"Don't let anyone rattle you. Sometimes the callers can be aggressive. Just be firm with them. Donnie will give you your cues. He's very good about that even if he does come across like a cranky bear."

"Good to know. Thank you." She did appreciate the pep talk and the humor. Mr. McConnell had a nice, baritone voice, and it calmed her.

"Good, well done. I'll let you go about your business, now, and talk to you on the other side."

"Thank you, sir."

Once she'd put him on music hold, Amanda went down her checklist of things to do. She double-checked the script, signed a few more people into the conference, and went over the company roster of speakers. It lacked a minute to the start time, and one of the management speakers still hadn't checked in with her. At ten she made a quick announcement about checking in more participants, and paged Donnie Kingman, a tenor with a light Texas accent and a gruff manner.

"Are you not ready to start?" he asked. He sounded miffed.

"Mr. O'Dowd hasn't checked in yet, Mr. Kingman." she told him. O'Dowd was the Chief Operations Officer.

"Oh for Chrissake, he's forgotten to dial in again. I'll take care of it."

A minute later the COO dialed into the sub conference, and Kingman said, "Let's get rolling. Time is money."

Amanda took a deep breath. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Forlanie Resort Group's twenty-fifteen fourth quarter and year-end earnings conference call," she said into her microphone. "At this time, all participants are in a listen-only mode. After the opening remarks, management will be available for questions. As a reminder, this call is being recorded. And now I would like to turn the conference over to Mr. Donald Kingman, Director of Investor Relations for Forlanie. Please go ahead, Mr. Kingman."

"Thank you, Amanda," Kingman said, and Amanda switched off her mic and sat back with a sigh. She'd done it perfectly and had sounded very professional. She was grateful to have done a little voice-over work in commercials in the past. It had taught her how to read through practically anything.

She listened to the opening remarks, following the outline she'd been given. After Kingman spoke, Mr. McConnell took the floor. He had a nice voice, too, kind of dark and a little rough as if he'd just been sipping brandy. She was sensitive to voices because she'd done so much voice work over the last few years. Bill McConnell could have done voice-overs if he wasn't CEO of some big company. If he was ever desperate for money he could record sexy audio books. Not that a guy as wealthy as Bill McConnell would ever have to scratch for a living.

The financial guy spoke after McConnell. He had an unfortunate voice thanks to a combination of a heavy New York accent, and a tendency to speak much too fast. He also sounded kind of spitty to Amanda, the sort of guy who sprayed when he talked. By comparison to McConnell, the poor guy sounded like someone's idiot cousin.

Someone else spoke after Mr. Spitty, and then turned the call over to McConnell for a few final remarks. When he finished, she would be starting the question and answer session, so she perked up a bit.

"And now we'd like to open up the call to your questions," McConnell said. "Over to you, Amanda."

"Thank you, sir," she said. She gave the instructions and introduced the first caller in the queue. While she was checking in another research analyst, she heard McConnell's voice sharpen, and her attention snapped back to what was being said.

"I think we've answered that same question several times, Duncan. If you haven't got anything else, we need to move along, and give someone else a chance to ask a question."

The analyst kept on talking, becoming increasingly hostile and demanding.

Kingman paged her and said, "Cut off Duncan Lansdale and don't let him back into the queue."

"Yes, sir." Amanda hit the disconnect button and grabbed her list. "And the next call is from the line of..." She read the name and affiliation, and connected the caller. Her heart was racing, but she'd done just what she'd been asked. She felt like she was part of the team now.

The call went on for another quarter of an hour, though without any further incidents, until there were no more callers in her queue. Lansdale had dialed in twice after being disconnected, but Amanda simply closed the line on him.

"I'm showing no further calls at this time," she announced. "I'd like to turn the call back to Mr. McConnell for closing remarks."

"Thank you Amanda. And I'd like to thank..." She was almost there. The call was nearly over, and she hadn't made any gaffes. McConnell finished, and Amanda slipped back into the conference with a serene closing.

"That does conclude our conference for today. Thank you for attending, and have a wonderful day." She clicked the music back on, and sat back with a sigh. That was it. She'd done it. Her first real conference call and she'd come through like a trooper.

Someone was paging her. "Yes? Hello?"

"It's Bill McConnell again. Thanks for all your help."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. McConnell."

"You're a very good operator."

Amanda could feel her face grow hot. "I appreciate that, sir."

"You have a good voice, too, trained. Are you an actress?"

“Not really. I’ve done a couple of commercial voice-overs, but nothing more."

"Do you have ambitions in that direction?” he asked.

“No. I’m content to use my voice when I need to, but the acting life isn’t really for me.”

There was an awkward pause. "Well, I wanted to say thank you, and well done."

"Thank, you sir. It was a pleasure."

He closed the connection. Amanda was surprised to find that it made her a little sad to hear him go. He had such a nice voice.

"Why are you staring at the strawberries?" Helen was looking over Amanda's shoulder. "Oh gosh, I can smell them from here. You should get some. I'm going to."

"I haven't been able to afford them for so long," Amanda said.

"All the more reason." Helen grabbed a box and inspected it. "They look nice, too. Nothing mushy on the bottom. That's the worst."

"Y'know," Amanda said as she chose a box of berries for herself. "I didn't really mind being poor, and I sure don't mind working. I think everyone needs to work. But I just hated working and being poor."

Helen smiled and nodded. She'd been there, too, but had moved on from waiting tables to a fairly well-paying job at an insurance company. They shared an apartment, and for months Amanda hadn't been able to do more than pay her share of the rent and utilities.

"Those days are over, sweetie. I have a good feeling about this operator gig."

It wasn't what Amanda had really wanted to do, but it paid a living wage, and the hours were pretty regular. There were worse ways to live. "Me too," she said. "Let's get some ice cream to go with these."

She had a long list of things she needed to buy with her first paycheck, most as basic as toilet paper and detergent. Helen argued with her, but Amanda insisted. "You've been paying for all that for months now, the whole time I was working at Crud-Mart. It's my turn."

"I don't really mind, Mandy."

"But I do."

"Okay, okay. But I'm buying the wine for dinner tonight. We have to celebrate your first paycheck!"

Helen had been an awfully good friend to Amanda, sharing what she had, taking up the slack without ever making Amanda feel small. When she cooked, she always cooked enough for several meals and then told Amanda, "I made way too much spaghetti; can you help me eat it?" or "I got the wrong kind of soup. Do you want it?" or just, "I just don't like leftovers very much; can you finish this?" Amanda had promised herself that one day she was going to do something super nice for Helen, something to say "thank you" for all the kindness.

And tonight she was going to make dinner. She was buying a roasting chicken, some new potatoes, and fixings for a big, beautiful salad. With Amanda's wine, it would be a feast. And there would be strawberries and ice cream for dessert.

Life was starting to seem good again.

On the way home Helen said, "So you're going to have to tell me all about the jobs you did. Do you have any stock tips? Were you privy to any insider information?" she teased.

"Buy low, sell high."

"Rude thing."

Amanda laughed. "Mostly it was me trying not to screw anything up. It's fairly dull stuff."

"You think of all that money being glamorous, and the people--"

"It's really not." Amanda told her about the Forlanie call, and imitated Mr. Spitty. Helen got to laughing so hard she could barely get her shopping bags up the stairs. "It was actually kind of interesting, though," she admitted. "They talked about their resorts; they have them all over, the Caribbean, Mexico, the Canadian Rockies, Hawaii, even in Japan and a couple of European spots. Very nice places. High end, you know?"

"Hey, maybe you can get an employee discount."

"Even if I worked for them I probably couldn't."

"Damn."

"I know, right? But it was kind of fun to listen to them talk about their resorts and the amenities at each one, like the spa they're building at their resort in Japan where you'll be able to bathe in thermal pools all winter, even with snow on the ground. I Googled it, and it's a really gorgeous area, but now I've forgotten the name of the town. It's outside Tokyo, I think, in the mountains."

"That sounds great. Hey, maybe someday, right?"

"Yeah, we can put that on our To Do list, right under World Peace." Amanda didn't say that she'd also looked up Bill McConnell, too, and had been a little disappointed to find some photos that suggested that he was about sixty. Nice looking and all, but not really fantasy material for her, though she knew a few women who would have been willing to overlook his age for the kind of money he must have had.

She and Helen had a nice dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, and put a DVD on. "Ah, this is the life," Helen observed.

"Right, stuck at home with me on Saturday night."

Helen shrugged. "Sometimes it's good to hang out with your girls, y'know. Anyway, I'm in no hurry to get back out there after Todd."

They both chugged the rest of the wine in their glasses. It was part of the Todd drinking game. One drink when his law firm was mentioned, two when the phrase "ambulance chaser" came up, and if anyone mentioned his name, they chugged. Helen said it was one way to make the memory of her time with him tolerable.

"Still, it's not time to settle down with cats."

"Oh you don't know that for sure. We all have our internal clocks, Mandy, and mine may be ticking down towards a comely Maine Coon, or a Siamese with shapely ankles."

"I'm still hopeful."

"And so you should be. You're only thirty. You're not over the hill yet, like me."

"You're only thirty-one!"

"A well-seasoned thirty one."

"You're a nut," Amanda told her, but it was said with great fondness.

When she arrived at work on Monday, Amanda was surprised to find a note from her supervisor stuck to her monitor. "Come see me," it read.

Okay, she thought, and tried to tell herself that he was going to congratulate her for a great first week. She stowed her things, then went to his office.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, I did. What went on during the Forlanie call?"

"I... I'm sorry, I don't understand the question."

His already small eyes narrowed alarmingly. "I've gotten two calls about you, one from a research analyst who says you cut him off, and the other from the assistant to the CEO wanting to know your name. So what went on?"

"The CEO dismissed that analyst, and Mr. Kingman told me to disconnect him and not to allow him back in queue, so nothing that happened there was my doing, sir," she said, trying to sound firm and unruffled. She wasn't sure she was succeeding, but she kept her chin up, and forced herself to look Mr. Kolin in the eye. The small, evil-looking eye.

"And the CEO wanting to know your name?"

"He already knew my name. He asked me before the call began. He said he liked to use the operator's name to make the company seem friendlier. I have no idea why anyone would call to ask. Did they say anything else?"

"No, but that was enough to raise a red flag." Clearly Kolin didn't like being questioned in return.

"A red flag for no reason?"

"Now look, Missy--"

"Mr. Kolin, I didn't do anything I wasn't told to do. You can listen to the recording of the call if you don't believe me. I was told to get rid of that analyst, and I don't know why the Forlanie people called here."

He glared at her and she thought, Swell, I'm going to get fired after a week. "Is there anything else?"

"I'll be watching you."

"Ye, of course, sir." She turned and walked out. Her knees wobbled a little out in the hallway, but she made it back to her cubicle without showing how rattled she was.

Melanie came by with her schedule for the week. "Hey, what's up?"

"What d'you mean?"

"The pig-man is fuming."

"It's nothing, just a misunderstanding. And don't be offensive to pigs."

"Well keep your head down. You've got a busy week, lots of calls."

Melanie was right. Amanda's schedule was full for the week. She hadn't expected to get this much work, but she supposed it helped that it was earnings call time. She began to look over the scripts she'd been given.

About an hour later, Melanie was back. She handed Amanda a new schedule, one with only six calls on it. "What is this?" she asked.

"Look, I'm sorry. He called me in and told me to give you this revised schedule. He wants the other one back."

"This isn't right."

Melanie avoided her eyes. "I can't-- I'm sorry, Amanda." She grabbed the first stack of papers and ran out the door.

Amanda stared at the schedule. Six calls. So unfair. She'd done a good job, and now she was being penalized for it.

But no, she wasn't being penalized for doing her job. When she started her training, Mr. Kolin had been very, very attentive. Too attentive for Amanda's liking, making her profoundly uncomfortable. She hadn't responded to him, and lately he'd pulled back, becoming more businesslike. She'd thought it was over, but she realized at that moment that he'd only been looking for some excuse to come at her a different way.

"Fine," she said, out loud. "Just. Fine." She grabbed the revised schedule and marched down to Kolin's office. Just as she got there, Mrs. Tonetti from accounts waylaid her.

"Amanda, you're just the person I wanted to see. I've had the nicest phone call from Bob McConnell. He seems to think you're just the best thing since sliced bread and he's made me swear to him that you will the operator for all the Forlanie calls from now on."

"I... didn't know you would do that."

"For an account like Forlanie, you bet we will. Unless you have a problem with that. Please tell me you don't have a problem with that."

Amanda made a helpless gesture. "I don't, but Mr. Kolin might."

Mrs. Tonetti's face turned stony. "What's he done?"

Amanda told her about their interview, and about the schedule change. "I didn't do anything wrong," she insisted.

Mrs. Tonetti steered her into one of the conference rooms and closed the door. "Amanda, I need you to tell me if Mr. Kolin has ever been... ungentlemanly with you."

Amanda's mouth dropped open. "I... He's been... He's been quite friendly to me in the past, though today he was angry with me for no reason that I could see." She knew what Mrs. Tonetti meant, but in all honesty couldn't say more than what she had said.

Then Mrs. Tonetti dropped the delicacy and asked straight out, "Has he ever touched you?"

"No. Never."

"All right, then. Let's go talk to him."

Even though she'd been about to bang on his door and ask for an explanation of her cut hours, Amanda now didn't want even to see his face. She felt crawly inside. "Okay." Her voice had gotten very small.

Mrs. Tonetti led the way, knocked on Kolin's office door, and stuck her head in. "Greg, do you have a minute? I have some good news."

"I could use some good news," he said. His face fell when he saw Amanda enter behind Mrs. Tonetti.

"Well, then you'll be happy to hear that Amanda has already done this company proud. I had a long conversation just now with Bill McConnell of Forlanie, and he is so impressed with Amanda that he has made me promise she will do every one of Forlanie's calls in the future." She half turned. "Well done, Amanda!" she said, then turned and stared at Kolin.

"That’s... very good, yes," he managed. "Well done."

"Thank you both."

"I ran into Amanda in the hallway and made her come in here with me so we could both see your face when you got the good news. But we got to talking, and I think there might be a mix-up. Amanda tells me that there's a scheduling problem; was that it?" she asked Amanda.

"I think there's been some confusion," Amanda replied, taking her cue from Mrs. Tonetti. I had a schedule on my desk earlier, and then it disappeared and I found this one." She handed it to Kolin who was glaring again. How was it possible for anyone's eyes to be so tiny? "I'd already started work on the first one. If it was a mistake and this is the schedule I'm supposed to have, then of course I'll handle it, but I did want to check first."

"The first one was a very heavy workload," Kolin told them. "It should have been given to a more experienced girl."

"Oh, I see," Mrs. Tonetti said. Again she turned to Amanda. "Did it seem to heavy to you?"

"It was busy," she admitted. "But nothing I didn't think I could manage."

"Well there, isn't she amazing? You just give her that schedule and let's see what our girl can do."

Kolin's lips disappeared as he swapped schedules with Amanda. "If there's any problem," he said, and it sounded more like a warning than an offer of help.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said. "I should go now. I'm putting together a database of call information for each company so I can have everything available to me when I need it."

"You'll go far, Amanda. Won't she Greg?"

"She sure will," Kolin replied in something just this side of a growl.

"Amanda, there's something for you at the front desk, I believe," Mrs. Tonetti told her.

Amanda thanked them both and retreated.

The "something" at the desk was a vase of miniature mauve roses. The card read, "With thanks from Forlanie Resorts Group," a nicely impersonal personal touch. "Wow," she breathed.

Gretchen, the receptionist, said, "Pretty flowers."

"I'm stunned."

Gretchen shrugged. "The account managers get them a lot. Not many operators do."

"All righty, then." Amanda grabbed the vase and carried them back to her cubicle. It was only Monday and she felt like she'd already worked a full week.

Amanda's work weeks stayed heavy after her interview with Mrs. Tonetti and Mr. Kolin. Some days were nearly back-to-back calls, and she had the feeling that if Kolin couldn't punish her with less work, he was going to try to drown her with more. The truth was that she'd never worked so hard in her life. She came in early to run through her scripts and stayed late to update her database.

She was also making a lot of money. Within the first two months at the Agency she paid off everything that she'd borrowed from Helen, and was beginning to get a start on her credit card debt. It was an enormous load off her mind.

After the quarterly calls she had several in-house calls with Forlanie. The participants got to know her and many of them greeted her by name as they checked into their conferences. Every time she did one of their calls she found herself hoping that Bill McConnell would be attending, though he never was.

The next time she spoke to Donnie Kingman he thanked her for her help. "Lansdale is a loose cannon. I'm sorry you had to take the heat for us." All the gruffness had left his voice.

"It got straightened out, so no harm done, sir. The flowers were a very thoughtful touch."

"Flowers?"

"The bouquet of mini roses with the thank you note."

There was a short silence, then Kingman said, "Oh, right, the roses. Glad you liked them."

"It absolutely wasn't necessary."

"We do like to show our appreciation," he told her. He sounded amused for some reason.

"In the future, how shall I handle Mr. Lansdale?"

"Can you arrange to have his meds adjusted?"

"I... uh..." She hadn't expected that from an executive.

"Don't worry, we deal with him on a call-by-call basis. Some days he's fine, some days I'll let you know that he needs to be deep-sixed, okay?"

"Okay."

"You're a smart gal, Amanda."

"Thank you, sir."

"What color were the roses?"

"Mauve."

"Mauve. Good. Carry on, then."

Amanda lasted eighteen months. In spite of Mrs. Tonetti’s help, Greg Kolin found ways to make Amanda’s life a nightmare. Finally she gave notice. She would do one more quarter of earnings calls and then she’d be leaving for good.

On her last call with Forlanie, she said good-bye to both Donnie Kingman and Bill McConnell. Both men expressed regrets and wished her well. She realized that she was going to miss them both, but especially Bill McConnell. They’d had some interesting conversations before and after the calls she handled for his company, and she’d started to think of him as a fatherly sort of friend she simply hadn’t met yet.

At the end of the last conference call, Donnie came on the line to thank her and said, “Amanda, do you have anything else lined up?”

“Not really. I have a couple of leads, but I’m still looking.”

“I would like to invite you to interview with Forlanie’s investor relations department. I always have room on my staff for smart, personable, hard-working people. Interested?”

She was so taken aback she hardly knew what to say. “I— If you think I’d be a good fit, yes, of course I’d be interested.”

“Great.” He gave her his assistant’s email address and told her to write and ask for an appointment. “Don’t forget to mention that I told you to do it. Claire is pretty ferocious.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Sure ‘nuff,” he said and clicked off.

She told Helen about it when she got home that night.

“I knew that Forlanie guy would be good for you. They like you. I’m betting they’re thrilled that you’re getting canned so they can snatch you up.”

“Oh stop. It’s not a done deal.”

“I’m guessing it pretty much is. Just don’t screw the pooch,” Helen warned with a laugh.

“I’ll do my best,” Amanda told her. “But you know me; you can’t take me anywhere nice.” Even if it wasn’t a sure thing, she was happy to have a job interview lined up. And to work for Forlanie? It had to be better than dealing with Greg. Donnie had never been anything but completely gentlemanly with her, and Bill McConnell had always been such fun to talk to. Not that she expected she’d be talking to him very much even if she was working for his company, but it was nice to think that maybe he’d come and seek her out for a chat very occasionally.

As Helen predicted, the job turned out to be a sure thing. Ferocious Claire was perfectly charming to Amanda. She said, “Oh you’re the woman Donnie is so enthusiastic about! Let me get you all set up with the application and an appointment.”

While she was filling out the application, Claire said, “Donnie is in his office right now, and said to send you in when you finish with that.” Then she gave Amanda a thumbs-up.

Donnie was exactly what Amanda had imagined. He was short and stocky, with blue-black hair and sharp dark eyes that missed nothing. There was a sense of furious energy that swirled around him.

“It’s good to meet you at last, Amanda. Come in and sit down, please.”

“I really appreciate this, Mr. Kingman.”

“No, you just go on calling me Donnie. My whole staff does. I think it’s friendlier,” he explained in his soft drawl.

“All right, then, Donnie. I’ve brought my resume, updated with my work history at HostAssist.”

“Thanks. I’ve got a glowing recommendation from Dorothy Tonetti here, and an indifferent one from Greg Kolin. Can you tell me what that’s about?”

The request threw Amanda into an agony of indecision. “I’d prefer not to. I don’t feel it would be in anyone’s best interests to speak about my problems with Mr. Kolin. It’s over with. I can’t say that I bear him no ill will, but I’d rather not speak badly of him in front of anyone else.”

“I understand. Let’s take a look at that resume.”

She was grateful that Donnie didn’t press her about Greg. The idea of talking about the harassment which was never actually sexual or threatening, but felt like both, made Amanda uneasy.

After talking about her experience and her intentions for the future for a good ten minutes, Donnie said, “Let me explain the position. I need an assistant to our Media Relations Director. Sandra Wilder is primarily a strategist. Her office is responsible for communicating corporate themes to the media in a timely manner. What you will be doing is working in conjunction with our different departments and with senior management so that Sandy’s message is consistent with the company’s aims. You’ve worked with the media, you know how hard it can be, so I expect you to be supportive of Sandy by working hard, and making sure she has the information she needs when she needs it. Any questions?”

“I imagine I’ll have some when I start doing the job, but right now, I don’t think I can frame an intelligent one, so no, not at this time.”

Donnie laughed. “I like it that you can admit you don’t understand everything. I worry about people who always say they have a handle on everything.”

“I wouldn’t try to put one over on you. I think you’d know I was lying anyway, just based on my resume.”

“True. All right, then, let’s go talk to Sandy.”

Everything was moving so fast that Amanda hardly had time to think. She grabbed her purse and coat and went scurrying after Donnie who seemed to do everything at top speed. He introduced her to Sandy Wilder as “your new assistant.”

Sandy was a sharply-dressed middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense air about her. “Good to meet you, Amanda. Please call me Sandy. We’re big on first name friendliness around here. When can you start?”

“Now.”

“Really? That’s great. Thanks, Donnie.”

“Don’t throw her to the lions right away,” he warned.

“I’ll wait a couple of days.”

Her training began immediately and she was pleased to find that it wasn’t too demanding. Much of it was common sense, and Sandy was a good teacher. The session ran late and when Sandy asked “How late can you stay?” Amanda replied, “As late as I need to.” She wanted to hang on to this job, and more, she wanted to do well at it.

It made Sandy laugh. “Okay, but we don’t demand that you give your life to Forlanie, understood?”

“Um…”

“What I mean is that you do your best, but you don’t kill yourself over this. I might ask some overtime, but it won’t be a regular thing.”

“Okay I get it. Thanks. I just want to do well here.”

“And that’s what we want too. To be honest, when I heard that I was going to get Bill’s protégée as my assistant, I was worried.”

“Protégée? Mr. McConnell’s protégée? We’ve never even met.”

Sandy seemed surprised. “Ah, well…”

“Does everything think that there’s something going on with us?”

“Oh no, that’s not it at all. It’s just that Bill has a habit of finding talent and making room for them in the company. Donnie was one of his first finds, and I don’t know what we’d do without him.”

Amanda tried to concentrate on the job, but the word “protégée” kept racing through her mind. What on earth did people really think of her? Much as she liked Bill McConnell, she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. He wasn’t her sugar daddy.

When she spoke to Helen about it that night, Helen said, “Did you go into the job without any expectations?”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all you have to answer for. Let everyone else think what they have to think to keep their world spinning. Their opinion of you is none of your business.”

“Yeah, but it can make work hellish.”

“You made things clear to your boss, right? And to Donnie?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let it go. Stop over-thinking things. Be brilliant at your job and nobody will have the right to complain.”

It was good advice and Amanda took it to heart. Though she wished she could find out where the protégée rumor began, she tried not to let it bother her. And since Bill McConnell never visited her office, she hoped the rumor would just die.

Then one afternoon she was on her way back up to her office after lunch and McConnell got into the elevator with her. He looked right at her as he entered but there was no flicker of recognition. But of course since they’d never met, he wouldn’t know who she was. She only knew him from the pictures on the Internet, and he was exactly what she’d imagined he would be in person. He was tall and elegant with perfectly barbered white hair, and a suit that probably cost a year of her salary.

Should she speak up? He deserved some thanks, she supposed. “Mr. McConnell?”

He turned, a look of mild surprise on his face. “Yes?”

“I’m Amanda, the operator from HostAssist.”

From his expression she had the impression that he had no idea who she was.

“We used to chat before conference calls.”

“We did?”

“Yes. I just wanted to thank you for any encouragement you gave Mr. Kingman with regard to hiring me.”

His brow furrowed. “Was this recently that we spoke?”

“Yes sir. I was at HostAssist for eighteen months just before I came here.”

Oddly, he chuckled. “You’re not thinking of me, Amanda. I retired two years ago. You’re thinking of my son, Bill Jr. I’ll pass along your thanks.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, think nothing of it. How long have you been with Forlanie?”

“A month.”

“And Billy hasn’t come down to make sure you’re doing okay?” He clicked his tongue. “That boy’s forgotten his manners.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of bothering him. I was just grateful to have gotten such a good job.”

“What is it you do?”

“Assistant to the Media Relations Director.”

“Oh you’re working for Sandy. She’s tough but she’s fair,” he told her.

The doors slid open on her floor and Amanda nearly flew out. “Thank you, sir!”

“Welcome to Forlanie, Amanda!” he called as the doors closed.

She passed Sandy as she entered the office.

“You’re red as a beet.”

“I just mistook Bill Sr. for Bill Jr.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I’d never met the son, just talked to him on the phone.”

Sandy laughed too. “I bet that tickled him.”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Oh don’t be. He’s a good guy. They both are.”

Amanda took that assessment to heart as she got back to work. Everyone here was nice. She was so grateful to have this job, and embarrassed or not, she was glad she’d had a chance to thank at least one of the McConnells.

About three-thirty, as she was winding down on the report she was preparing, there was a knock at the door. “C’mon in,” she called.

A man stuck his head in. Hello?”

She was glad she was sitting down because this guy was so handsome he made her feel all wobbly. He was in shirtsleeves, and had discarded his tie, so she knew he worked in the building and wasn’t a member of the media coming to beg for some inside info. She liked the way his fair hair fell down over one pale green eye.

She had to stop thinking about the way he looked! She stood up without incident. “Hi. I’m Amanda Jensen. How can I help you?”

He was grinning widely. “Amanda, it’s good to meet you at last.”

“Even if he hadn’t said that, once she heard him speak a full sentence she knew that she was talking to Bill McConnell. Her Bill McConnell with the dark, buttery voice.

“Hi! What are you doing down here?”

“I came to say hello and welcome. My father gave me hell for not having done it before this, but I wanted to let you settle in first. How are you liking it?”

“I’m loving it,” she said with complete candor. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes, thanks.” He sat down on the sofa and Amanda wondered if she should sit in the chair or beside him. What was the protocol with the big boss? She opted for the opposite end of the sofa.

“Everyone is so nice here,” she told him. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

“I’m so glad we could give it.”

There was an awkward silence, and then they both began to talk at once. It was so odd being in the same room with him. He was so not what she had pictured, having mistaken a photo of his father for one of him. But beyond that, he was so incredibly handsome, friendly, down-to-earth, and yet there was something about him that gave her the sense that he was a chancy man to cross, that his modesty was a natural effect of his strength. Strong people, those who were truly strong, had nothing at all to prove.

Once they covered the basics, how are you settling in? Any questions? Do you need anything? The conversation began to drift back into their familiar patterns. They talked about the company, and then about some of the properties that Amanda was working on. From there, they moved to travel in general, and Bill told her some funny travel stories.

“So there I was, locked in the WC and yelling what I thought was “help!” and it turns out I was shouting… I think someone told me it was “onions! Onions!”

Amanda exploded with laughter, remembered herself, and covered her mouth with her hands.

“Why do you do that?”

“Oh, my mother taught me it wasn’t ladylike to laugh out loud like that.”

“No, it’s wonderful! So much more refreshing than a polite little giggle before the subject gets changed.”

“You’ve been out with the wrong girls,” she told him. “My friends and I laugh like lunatics when we’re together.”

“I’d love to meet them.”

“Maybe one day.” She looked up and saw that it had grown dark while they talked. “Oh gosh, it’s late. I shouldn’t have kept you.”

“No, I enjoyed it. But I’ve kept you. Listen, the least I can do is to drive you home, or wherever it is you’re planning on going tonight.”

“Just home.”

“No Friday night date?”

“Just with my roommate. We order food and binge watch television programs. Though she’s actually got a date tonight.”

“So what were you going to do?”

“Microwave some macaroni and cheese and watch a movie.”

“That sounds good, but could I put a twist on it?”

“Wh— uh, sure.” What was he talking about?

“We hit this little place in Lincoln Square that makes the best mac and cheese ever, and then go to a movie. What d’you think?”

“Uh,” she said again. She was completely flummoxed. Was he asking her out on a date? “It sounds terrific, but wouldn’t it be awkward?”

“Oh! No, no, I’m not asking you on a date. Sorry, I should have been clearer. It’s more of a welcome to the family, and neither of us have anything to do anyway thing.”

She laughed again. There was something boyish and winning about him that she liked instinctively. “Okay sure. I’m a sucker for a good mac and cheese.”

They drove up to the restaurant. It had begun to snow lightly on the way, so when they arrived there was a sparkle of frost on everything. “I’ve never been here before,” she told him.

“I live in the neighborhood, so I come here a lot.”

The place was jammed. Amanda was sure it would take forever to get a table and she resigned herself to sitting in the bar, if getting a seat there was even possible. But they were shown right to a table and treated like royalty.

“I’m impressed.”

“One of the perks of being a regular customer.”

And probably of having money to burn, she thought. But what the heck? It had been a long time since any guy had shown her a good time. And she kind of liked that Bill’s good time was a neighborhood restaurant, even if the neighborhood was tremendously upscale and the establishment was a bit pricey. She decided to relax and enjoy it. To enjoy him.

“So would it be awkward if I asked why a guy like you doesn’t have a date?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He grinned at her. I assume it’s for the same reason a woman as smart and attractive as you are doesn’t have one either.”

“High standards?”

“That’s it!” he said gleefully and lifted his glass of good Belgian beer in a toast. “To high standards and impromptu dinners with friends.”

She clinked her glass against his and drank.

It was a lovely meal. He’d been right about the mac and cheese, it was delicious. They took their time over dinner, then over dessert and coffee. It seemed that there was an endless stream of conversation that flowed between them, a wonderful give and take of ideas and funny stories, an exchange of opinions on so many subjects from art to sports, literature to politics, from music to what was going on in the city. It had been a long time since Amanda had met anyone with whom she could engage so easily.

They talked and talked, and at some point between their last bite of dinner and their second cup of coffee, she found herself wishing that this was a date. She was having a hard time not seeing Bill in a romantic way. He was exactly the sort of man she had always dreamed of, smart, funny, and sexy as hell. And his beautiful, velvety voice made her want to throw herself on him shouting “Take me now!”

“Oh man, we’ve talked through the start of the last feature,” he said as he checked his watch. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. The great thing about movies is that there’ll always be another showing, even if it’s only online.”

“That’s true. I should take you home now, shouldn’t I?” It might have been her imagination but he sounded like he was asking something else. She decided to go with it.

“If you like.”

He caught her meaning and asked, “Would you rather do something else?”

“Like see your place? Yes.” She couldn’t believe how bold she was being. But he looked pleased. Not smugly so, just happy. And it touched her heart.

Outside the world had turned white with fallen snow. It glistened and gleamed. Big, fat flakes fell on them, landing on Amanda’s hair and coat and even on her eyelashes, and face. Bill reached out and brushed one off the tip of her nose, and the touch was electric. This had to happen. From the moment they first spoke on the phone, this had been fated to happen.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly in the snow, kissed her warmly so that she knew there was more here than sex. Not that sex wouldn’t be enough, but his kiss made it clear to her that what she was feeling was the same affection he felt.

She tried not to think about what the future would be like, but focused on the moment and on how happy she was. If it all went south on Monday morning, she’d deal with it then.

He took her to his place, a modest-looking brick two-flat that looked only a bit nicer than every other building on his block. But when she walked into the apartment she realized that the building was very much like Bill himself. A little more handsome, a little more elegant on the outside, but on the inside, so perfect, a kind of refuge from the outside world.

The building had been duplexed, but what remained after the space had been opened had been restored to a gleaming antique beauty. “I needed it to be as true to its era as possible,” he explained as he switched on the lights, so that Amanda could see the beautifully carved and polished moldings, the Prairie-era fireplace with its golden oak built-ins, and stained glass window above. Amanda touched the lovingly restored brick and smiled.

“I lived in an apartment like this when I first moved out on my own. It was on the far northwest side, and it was a little beat up, but I could see what it had been once. I’ve always loved these old Prairie-style buildings.”

“I do too. This is my third one, and the best of the lot.”

“Oh… you’re not planning on flipping this one, are you?”

“Not unless I find one I like more.”

“Oh, but it’s so beautiful! May I see the rest?”

He showed her around the first floor which was mainly the living/dining room, the kitchen, and a powder room. “There’s a mud room in the back, and a sun porch where I like to eat breakfast,” he said, switching on the light in the back. “It’s not much of a garden,” he admitted. There isn’t all that much room between the garage and the house. But I like looking at it.” He flipped another switch and the garden was filled with warm light, surprising a foraging rabbit who fled into the darkness. With the snow lying heavy on the bare branches, the sight was magical.

“It’s lovely.”

Bill slipped his arm around her waist and Amanda leaned into the embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. “This is a wonderful place.”

He turned out the garden lights and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Their first stop was the master bedroom where the tour ended at least for that night. A warm embrace became more heated as touches became more insistent, kisses deeper. They were only half undressed the first time they made love.

When the storm ebbed, the rest of their clothes were shed and they crawled between the sheets to hold each other, to explore each other’s bodies with touches now more familiar, less tentative. They spent hours pleasuring one another with fingers, lips, tongues, so that when Bill entered her again, it was also familiar, and right, a kind of closure.

She clung to him, staring into his eyes, he into hers. What she saw there echoed everything she was feeling, the warmth and affection, the surprise and delight at finding such a kindred soul. She felt part of him and clung to him as the waves of joy washed through her.

And then, as they grew sleepy, he cradled her in his arms. She could feel his warm, steady breath against her cheek, listened to the sound of it, and felt safe. For the first time in her adult life, she felt truly safe.

Amanda wakened to a tentative touch, and Bill’s voice. “Amanda? Mandy?”

“Hmm?”

“Good morning.”

She looked around. The bedroom was still dark. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“In the morning?” she asked, confused.

Bill laughed. “Yes. It’s dark in here because those are heavy drapes, but also because it’s still snowing. It’s been snowing all night.”

“Oh no. I should get home.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you can. My car is buried. There are plows out but bus service is pretty thin, and I don’t think you could hope to catch a cab.”

She rubbed her eyes. “What am I going to do?”

He smiled. “You’re going to go soak in the tub while I make some coffee. Or would you prefer tea? Cocoa?”

Impulsively, Amanda reached up and kissed him. “Whatever you’re having is fine. I like them all. Is the bathroom through there?” she asked, pointing.

He nodded. “Here, I brought you a robe.”

He handed her a huge, fluffy, white terrycloth robe and a pair of terrycloth slippers still in their wrapper. “I get samples from all the resorts, and toss them in the closet in case I have house guests who forget things.”

“Where’s this one from?”

He checked the robe’s lapel. “Waikiki.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” She kissed him again and slipped out of bed.

The master bath took her breath away. What she hadn’t seen the night before was that the fireplace in the bedroom opened onto the big bathtub on the other side. There was framed art on the walls and a chandelier over the bath.

Just beyond the big, jetted tub was the shower enclosure. It was the size of her apartment’s bathroom, and clad in marble. There was a long bench along one wall, and a dozen shower heads. She dropped the robe into a chair and stepped into the shower, adjusting the thermostat to a bit above body temperature. Water hit her from all sides and she laughed from the sheer pleasure of it. She’d never experienced anything like this, not even on vacation. She washed her hair with expensive shampoo, and scrubbed herself with soap that smelled warm and woodsy. It smelled like Bill.

As she was rinsing herself, she turned and saw Bill standing outside, watching her. He was smiling broadly, so she took her time and made a show of finishing, letting the water sluice down her body, running her hands down her wet skin, bending to show off her backside, stretching to show the pert lift of her breasts. She loved it that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She opened the door and said, “I thought I’d clean off before our soak. You should too,” she told him, inviting him into the luxury of the warm spray where she scrubbed him down and followed the roughness of the sisal brush with the softness of her lips.

The tub was nearly full when they stepped out of the shower and sank into the hot water with contented sighs. “This is the sort of morning I dreamed of when I designed this bathroom. Cold and snowy outside, inside, soaking in hot water and sipping tea with someone I—” He hesitated, then said, “like very much.”

“Who likes you very much,” Amanda said, smoothing over that moment of hesitation. Whatever he’d meant to say, he wasn’t ready to say. If it was what she thought it was, she wasn’t ready to hear it either. This was so good in the here and now that she didn’t want to think about the future, about the possibility of this ending badly because he was her employer. Or the possibility of continuing and word getting around so that her co-workers would look at her in that knowing way and tell people that Amanda got her job because she was screwing the big boss.

“You look pensive,” Bill said.

“The future always intrudes.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“Let’s not let it, not today. Not until we can leave here again.”

“We’ll be the only two people in a world covered in snow.”

“Yes.” She touched her mug to his with a dull clank, and sipped the spicy, fruity tea he’d made for her. The fire blazed in front of them, the hot water swirled, and outside, everything but the snow ceased to matter.

Finally they stepped out of the bath. Bill wrapped her in a warm towel. “Oh that’s nice,” she whispered.

“I have a towel warming drawer in the vanity.”

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Almost. Let’s go have something to eat.”

He cooked pancakes and bacon, and they listened to the local classical radio station as he cooked.

“What are you thinking?” he asked as he set her plate in front of her.

“That I love it that we both like classical music. That we listen to the same station. That you could afford a fancy sound system, but we’re just listening to the radio in the kitchen and watching it snow.”

“That really makes you happy?” He sat down across from her.

“It really makes me happy.”

“Me too.” He passed the syrup to her.

It was a ridiculously wonderful day. The world was so silent under its blanket of snow. They went outside to shovel the walks, then came back in, drank cocoa, played cards, made love, danced, and talked for hours. Bill made some soup for dinner and they ate it while they watched Fred Astaire movies.

It was the most wonderful day Amanda had ever spent.

By early Sunday afternoon, even the side streets had been plowed, and Amanda knew she’d have to go home. She didn’t want to; she’d hoped it would never stop snowing, that they’d be alone together forever. But it had to end eventually, all things did.

On the way home, she said, “Bill, I have to say this, okay? I don’t know how this has to play out. It’s an awkward situation. I’d like us to be together, but if we can’t be then let’s just say good-bye right away and remember this as a wonderful moment.”

He looked troubled, but he was also nodding. “You’re right. It is awkward. I’ve never…”

“Let’s take some time to think about it.”

“Okay, yes. You’re right. I know you’re right.”

Before she got out of the car, she kissed his cheek. “I had a wonderful weekend. Thank you.”

“I did too.”

No promises to see each other at work, to call, to text or email. No promises. That’s the way it had to be until they worked out what all this meant.

Monday was a slow day. There’d been snow over half the country, and people were having a hard time getting to work. Unfortunately it gave Amanda too much time to think so she spent some of her down time studying the information on the Waikiki resort, imagining what it would be like to go there with Bill.

It was silly, she thought, even to imagine. Their situation was impossible. If she wasn’t his employee, she’d stand a better chance, but she wasn’t giving up a good job for the sake of what might have turned out to be a fling.

Except it wouldn’t have been a fling for her. She’d tried not to admit it, but she knew that she was in love with Bill. She probably had been since before they met. Their chats before and after conference calls had won her heart. If he’d been anyone but the CEO of Forlanie she’d have told him flat out that she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

She thought about almost nothing else for three days. Concentrating on work was nightmarish, and she was distracted enough that Sandy noticed and asked if there was something wrong.

“I’m just… I’m gnawing on a problem, Sandy.”

“Well, you’re going to have to gnaw on your own time,” she said. Amanda apologized. This was bad, it was affecting her work. She decided that she had to call it off.

After work, she went up to thirty-seven where the executive offices were, and asked to see Bill, but was told that he’d just left. She took the elevator back down to her floor, trying hard to breathe deeply and shake off the anxiety and sadness she was feeling. She didn’t want to end this, but she had to, and now she had to do it fast before she changed her mind.

She stepped off the elevator and ran smack into Bill.

“What? What are you doing down here?” she said. To her shock, he went down on one knee and caught hold of her hand.

“I’m losing my mind, Amanda. I’ve never felt more alone than when I went back home after I dropped you off. Everything in my home reminds me of you and my heart feels so empty without you there by my side.” He produced a ring box. “I love you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I need you to love me.”

He snapped open the box and people in the hallway gasped. She gasped. It was a huge diamond ring. “Bill… How can we?”

He stood and put the ring on her finger. “Mandy, this is my company. I can’t force you to love me but I can make the rules that will allow us to love each other.”

There were tears running down her face. “I guess I’ll have to trust that this can work because I love you too. I have been so miserable without you,” she told him as he pulled her into the fiercest hug she had ever been given. It felt as if he was trying to make them one person, and she found herself wanting that more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

She didn’t even hear the applause that erupted around them.

The wedding was quiet, just for family and a few friends. The honeymoon was at one of the Forlanie resorts in Switzerland, because Bill said that snow would always remind him of how much he loved her.

She looked out of the window and down into the town where the lights from every home and shop spread a warm glow in the snowy darkness. Snow would always make her happy, would always be a reminder for her as well.

Bill came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

“Why?”

“Because I have you,” he told her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And whatever you want in this life, if I can give it, it’s yours. If you want to go on working, I’m good, if you don’t, I’m happy too.”

She turned in the circle of his arms. “I want to help you. I want to be part of every aspect of your life if I can. Tell me how and I will do it.”

“We’ll find a way,” he promised, and then he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “But first we have a time-honored honeymoon tradition to uphold.”

“Champagne?” she asked. “A toast? A snack?” She loved teasing him.

“Wife, I am going to undress.”

“Good. I love to watch.” And she did. She loved seeing him strip off his clothing, shedding the facade of the businessman. She loved the play of his muscles and his smooth chest, flat belly, and the dark golden curls where his sex rose at the sight of her. At that, the teasing stopped, and she grew hungry to feel him beside her, inside her, flesh-to-flesh, moving in concert, becoming one with the deep, hungry thrusts, the shivering pleasure, and at last the feel of him filling her with his seed.

There was so much to share, she realized. There was the quicksilver passion that kept them locked in a heated embrace for much of the night, but there was also the animal warmth of sleep in the arms of your love. There was sharing thoughts and ideas, new discoveries and old dreams, there was work and play, and there would be a family soon enough. Perhaps a large one, perhaps a small one. That didn’t matter so much as that they would be together, they could create a life in which everything they needed would fit like pieces of a puzzle.

Amanda cradled Bill’s head on her shoulder as he slept, one hand cupping her breast, one leg thrown across hers. He was sated for a time, but he’d wake and take her again, and she would revel in it, in the way they belonged each to the other, in the drive to express love and passion, and the ancient need to make new life.

Whatever happened, they would see it through together, this most unlikely couple for whom the snow would always be a blessing and a reminder to follow their hearts.

THE END