Chapter Five
Scott
I spent most of the day interviewing applicants from the Craigslist ad I had posted. What a chore. Nothing against the applicants themselves, but nobody that I had spoken to so far seemed to fit the bill. For the umpteenth time, I wondered why the hell Kristin wasn’t interviewing people herself, but then I shook my head, already knowing the answer.
Her moods varied constantly. I couldn’t say that she was annoying all the time, because she wasn’t. Sometimes, if I caught her at just the right time, she could be pleasant, even funny. Most of the time though, I found her lording it over my house staff, her voice typically heavy with impatience of condensation. She seemed so bitter for one so young. Either bitter or entitled, maybe both. Recently, I had begun to feel sorry for her. Such pessimism, such negativity in someone who had only recently graduated from Princeton with a degree in political science.
She was intelligent, just… well, unmotivated. She told me she was thinking about creating a resume so she could start looking for work, but I had the impression that she would avoid that like the plague. She didn’t have to work, she told me, but her father expected her to at least make an attempt.
Boo-hoo.
She seemed perfectly content to leave me to finding her a personal assistant. Probably as payback because I didn’t fawn all over her nor jump at the opportunity to marry her. I was still concerned about the child’s paternity but was considering options. Since she had moved into my Newport mansion a week ago—it seemed like a lifetime already—I was beginning to seriously wonder about her capability of being a mother.
Anyone could be a mother, but it took a special quality to be a mom. There was a big difference, at least in my book. I had always envisioned myself getting married to a girl I actually loved, and one in whom I saw a number of positive qualities. I was sure that Kristin had to have some of positive qualities, but I just hadn’t found them yet. Not that I was looking that hard.
I sighed and tried to rid myself of the pity party I had triggered. If I had the guts, I would have told her and my dad to go fly a kite, but I wasn’t ready to risk my inheritance, my lifestyle, or my cushy job at the property company just yet. Deep inside, I knew I was acting as selfish and entitled as I mentally accused Kristin of being. I had never lived without money or the shelter and security it provided. What if I chucked it all and burned bridges and then realized I’d made a mistake? What if I couldn’t make it on my own? What if my near-future business venture failed? Then what would I do?
“Stop it,” I grumbled. “You crumbled. Get over it.”
I returned my attention to the pile of applications sitting in front of me on my desk blotter. I knew, at least to a certain degree, that whomever I chose to be Kristin’s personal assistant would have to be strong, mentally and emotionally. Kristin was a woman use to getting what she wanted, when she wanted it, and precisely how she asked for it. If not, I had learned long ago that she could make life a living hell for those around her.
I had interviewed seven women and three men so far, most of them in their thirties, one in her forties, and two in their twenties. Each offered some skills, but not to the degree that I would feel comfortable setting Kristin loose on them.
I decided to call it a day and was thinking to just leave my office and give it another go tomorrow. While I hadn’t yet found the person I was looking for, I wasn’t really surprised. This job required a unique skill set. Not just in potential talent, but of strong character. The poor unfortunate would have to not only be creative, but a meticulous planner, detail-oriented, and perhaps even have some experience as an event coordinator. And strong. No crybabies would do.
Maybe I should’ve been less vague in my wording of the ad and more specific in regard to the skills needed, most especially as an event coordinator. However, I had decided not to, figuring that if I interviewed the applicants and determined that their temperament wasn’t capable of handling Kristin’s demands, erratic mood swings, and occasional tantrums, it wouldn’t matter how skilled they were.
I organized a stack of remaining applications, rolled my eyes, and tossed the already rejected applicant files into the trash. What I would do if none of these applicants turned out to be suitable, I didn’t know yet, but I certainly wasn’t going to get stuck with the job of helping Kristin plan our farce of a marriage, that was for certain.
“One more applicant for you to wrap the day, Mister Holbrook.” Melanie’s voice came over my small office communication system.
I leaned back and sighed. I supposed I could get through one more. It was hard looking at all these eager faces, and many of them did have some of the qualities I was looking for. Nevertheless, the combination of characteristics I needed was—so far—absent. I didn’t hold out much hope for this last one of the day.
“Let her in,” I said, thumbing through the stack, already tired and sporting a somewhat negative attitude. The door opened and I glanced up, then did a double take. The woman seemed familiar: tall, with a willowy figure, sable-colored hair worn in a bun. But it was the almond shaped light green eyes that captured my interest, followed shortly by the slim profile, the perfectly shaped eyebrows, the short, pert nose and a pair of lips that were, in my own words, exquisite.
A jolt of recognition flared, but I couldn’t place her. She hesitated in the doorway, eyes widening slightly as she hovered there, staring at me, those eyebrows lowering slightly as if in confusion. Had we met somewhere? If we had, I couldn’t remember. I focused again on the papers while gesturing her in and with a flick of my hand, asking her to close the door behind her. By the time she settled in the chair in front of my desk, I was thumbing through the list of applicants.
“Name?” I asked.
“Scott, don’t you recognize me?
I looked up, dumbfounded. Slowly, the fog lifted and my heart skipped a beat.
“It’s Megan… Megan Bryan.”
Oh my God, it was her, but… she was… she was beautiful. The Megan I had known in high school had been a teenager; one caught between the youthful look of a teenager and an adult. The woman who sat down in the chair across my desk was pure woman. Composed, gaze direct and lips smiling. Her facial features had sharpened into its adult form, her high cheekbones and oval jawline perfectly accenting those wide green eyes, staring back at me with amusement. Could it really be her? She looked… hot. Gone was the downward glances of shyness that I remembered so well of her younger years, one of the most endearing I remembered from our high school years. No, the woman sitting before me was poised, looking at me in a straightforward way that garnered my full attention.
“Megan… is it really you?” I couldn’t help but grin, my heart racing now, excited, no, thrilled at seeing her again. So many years… I often wondered what had happened to her: where she was, how she was doing. “Oh my God, how have you been? What have you been doing? I—” I laughed softly. “Excuse me,” I apologized. “This is a surprise. A pleasant surprise, but I’m a bit dumbfounded.”
“I am too,” she admitted, her smile broadening. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Memories came rushing to the forefront when I saw that smile. That was one thing about her that hadn’t changed. I still couldn’t believe it. I quickly thumbed through the last half of the applications and there it was. I pulled it out of the stack, placed it on top, and then just looked at her, shaking my head in wonder. I felt giddy as a… well, as a schoolboy.
She appeared somewhat nervous now, one hand rising to fiddle with the necklace chain at her neck. She wore a sea foam green silk blouse tucked into a pair of black, pinstriped slacks. The color of the blouse perfectly amplified the color of her eyes. She had opted for casual, which pleased me. If what I remembered of Megan held true, she was a “what you see is what you get” kind of person. She didn’t put on airs for anyone.
“My God,” I exclaimed softly. “It’s been, what, almost ten years? Where have you been?” I repeated.
“I live in Irvine with my mom. You?”
“I’ve got a place in Newport Beach.” Again, I shook my head. “I remembered you as being pretty, Megan, but now you’re just… you’re just stunning.” I meant every word of it. I was delighted to see her cheeks darken with color. That hadn’t changed either.
“I didn’t realize until I submitted the application that it was your company that had placed the ad,” she said, her voice slightly breathy.
I noted the pulse in her throat. She was really nervous, though her face didn’t betray the emotion. Was she as pleased to see me as I was to see her? I still didn’t understand her abrupt disappearance from the private high school we’d attended, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up. I decided to get one major question out of the way. “Have you changed your mind, now that you know?”
“To be honest, I thought about it when I realized the ad had been placed by the Holbrook Corporation,” she admitted. “I had no idea you were still in Southern California.”
I nodded. We were keeping our chitchat non-personal. I recognized that and decided it was for the best. “Remember in high school that I had a feeling I’d end up working at my dad’s company?”
She nodded.
“Well, I came on board just after graduation. Just another year or so, and I’m outta here, planning on striking out on my own and starting my own company.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said, her voice soft.
“And what about you? What have you been doing?”
She waved a hand. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Nothing long-term as of yet, but I’m working on it. In fact, that’s one of the things that I noticed about the ad on Craigslist. Six-month duration? Can you tell me a little bit about what the job entails?” She paused, again fingering the necklace nervously. “I’m not sure I meet all of the qualifications.”
Small talk over, I got down to business. Leaning back in my chair, I explained, “I recently got engaged.” I paused, waiting for a reaction. Other than a slightly lifted eyebrow, she remained expressionless, listening intently. I continued. “She’s also expecting. She’s going to need an assistant for the duration of her pregnancy, as well as someone to help her with the wedding preparations.”
Megan didn’t say anything for a moment, and then nodded in understanding. “First, let me congratulate you on your engagement and your impending fatherhood.”
I nodded but said nothing. She continued to watch me. I had a feeling I knew what she was thinking, especially since she’d known me quite well for so many years. She more than likely wondered how a man like me, who’d just announced his upcoming nuptials and the birth of a child, could appear any less excited.
I shrugged. “Things happened a little faster than I expected, but that’s neither here nor there.” I gestured with my hand, much as she had done moments ago. “At any rate, I know nothing about wedding planning, and I’m putting it out there up front that my… my fiancée, Kristin, can be quite challenging, temperamentally.”
Again, Megan nodded. I quickly glanced down at her resume, hiding my surprise when I realized that it was quite sparse. I also knew something that wasn’t in the resume. I knew that Megan Bryan was strong. At least she had been. In the past, she’d had a habit of rooting for the underdog, wasn’t one to back down from intimidation, but wasn’t aggressive nor a bully. But she could hold her ground. And for this job, temperament and attitude won out over skills.
“I’ve done a lot of organizing over the years,” she said. “Mom and I often cater to some smaller businesses and business openings in Orange County—”
“You’re a caterer?”
“Not exactly,” she smiled. “We’re most known for our desserts and pastries, although as you know, or may not remember, I very much enjoy cooking and experimenting with food.”
I nodded, smiling with the memory.
“I’ve also worked with many different people, some from different cultures, in planning reunions, and I’ve even done some babysitting.”
She smiled at that and saw the twinkle in her eye and chuckled. She had understood what I meant to convey in regard to Kristin being a bit challenging. Well, if Megan was experienced dealing with spoiled brats, I guess the transition from a small spoiled brat to an adult spoiled brat weren’t much different. Besides, I was so thrilled to see her again that the thought of telling her that she wasn’t qualified was disheartening. Not only that, but I wanted to catch up with her. What better way to do that than if she was working for Kristin? I looked forward to the opportunity to see her more often, at least for a few months.
“You want the job?” Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she stared at me for several moments.
“You’re not offering it because you feel sorry for me or anything silly like that, are you?” She gestured to the application. “I know that I don’t fill the bulk of the qualifications you asked about in the ad.”
I wasn’t sure if facing Megan, sitting in the chair in front of me ten years after I’d seen her last was sheer, blind coincidence or serendipity, fate, or whatever you wanted to call it. I wanted her working for me, or for Kristin, rather.
“No, I would never feel sorry for you, Megan,” I said, meaning it. “But I do have one stipulation if you accept the job.”
She nodded and waited for me to explain.
“You have to keep our previous knowledge of one another, our high school days, secret, especially from Kristin. Let’s just say that she’s a bit…”
“The jealous type?”
I nodded. “It will just be simpler that way.”
“Agreed,” she said, smiling. She seemed relieved as she offered a quiet burst of shaky laughter, eyes shining, suddenly more animated.
I rose from my chair, prompting her to follow suit. At that second, I wanted nothing more than to move past my desk and envelope her in a warm hug. But I didn’t. I remained where I was and leaned slightly over my desk, extending my hand, palm up. She looked at me and then clasped it with a warm smile. I placed my other hand over hers, hoping in that small gesture to convey my pleasure of seeing her again.
“I’ll call you tomorrow at the number you listed on your application and confirm a time and date for you to meet my fiancée.”
“That’ll be fine, Scott… Mister Holbrook,” she said, eyebrow lifted with a knowing nod.
Then, as suddenly as she had entered, she left my office. I sat back in my chair, stunned. Such a pleasant surprise. I couldn’t get over how much she had changed. She had seemed slightly reserved and uncertain, but that was certainly understandable. We hadn’t seen each other in nearly a decade. We’d both been kids and now we were adults. There was a lot of water under the bridge, but one thing I knew. I was glad to see her. I was even more pleased that I would be able to see her again in the near future. We had a lot of catching up to do.
I called my secretary. “I hired the woman who just left, Melanie. Anybody else calls, tell them that the position’s been filled.”
I spent another fifteen minutes at the office, still distracted and contemplating Megan’s reappearance in my life, but also with another serious issue plaguing my thoughts. I had been making some calls, looking into paternity testing. While I knew that Kristin had initially balked, I wanted to get some information on my own. I’d been doing some digging, and while some testing facilities did do prenatal paternity testing, I discovered that there were risks involved.
I consulted with a well-known OB GYN in Orange County, and she too confirmed that the process could potentially be harmful. She suggested that I wait until the baby was born, as was common. Yes, there were tests that could be done sooner, but again, could trigger some risks. I sighed, not sure what to do. On the one hand, I wanted to know the truth. If I was the father, then the right thing to do would be to marry Kristin. But if she was jerking me around, playing games, claiming that the baby was mine when it wasn’t, well…
And then there was my dad. I shook my head and sat back in my chair, disgruntled. Not only annoyed with my dad, but at myself. Why did I lack the courage to tell him to go to hell? Did I really care that much about my inheritance? The bottom line: yes. I liked my lifestyle. I liked my mansion in Newport Beach. I liked the perks that came with having money. Without money, where would I be? How could I possibly start my own business without a healthy and stable bank account?
Frowning, I realized how selfish and self-centered that made me sound. I glanced at the stack of applications, and once again pulled Megan’s off the top, peering at it more closely. When I saw her listed address, I looked it up on Google Maps. An apartment building. It wasn’t in the worst part of Irvine, but it wasn’t the best, either. Based on her work history and lack of a college degree, it appeared that Megan had never managed to find solid footing after she’d abruptly left private school. It made me all the more curious.
What the hell had happened? I gathered that after her father’s death, they’d experienced some financial issues, resulting in the sale of their house, but after that?
For that reason, I was very glad to have offered Megan the job. It paid well, and so it should. She would have her hands full with Kristin. At that point, I almost felt guilty for hiring her, for that reason alone.
Almost.