London Tides: A Novel (The MacDonald Family Trilogy Book 2) Page 13

  CAF’s bright and open reception area, however, was far less posh than the building itself would have led her to believe. An Asian woman with a long ponytail draped over one shoulder smiled at her as she entered. “May I help you?”

  “Grace Brennan to see Kenneth DeVries.”

  “Of course, Ms. Brennan. If you’ll take a seat, Mr. DeVries will be with you shortly.”

  Grace nodded, then wandered back to a comfortable grouping of armchairs, but she didn’t sit. Her insides were still too jittery to trust. When her eyes lit on a large palm in a ceramic planter, she barely stifled her grin. So Ian wasn’t just having a laugh at her expense.

  “Grace!”

  She turned. Rather than Mr. DeVries, it was Henry Symon who came to greet her, positively beaming. “Good morning, Henry. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I’m joining you and Kenneth today. Make sure he knows exactly why he needs to hire you.” He shot her a puckish grin, and Grace laughed, her nervousness dissolving as he beckoned her. “Come on through to the back.”

  Grace followed Henry back through the reception area and down a plainly decorated hall to a large office. Behind a gleaming wood desk piled high with folios and stacks of paperwork sat Kenneth DeVries. After their introduction at the benefit, she’d been anticipating a suit, not this ordinary-looking man in chinos and a windowpane-check dress shirt.

  “Ms. Brennan, welcome.” He rose to shake her hand, then gestured to one of the seats opposite his desk. “Have a seat. You, too, Henry.”

  DeVries studied her for a moment and then smiled. “I’ll admit I never thought we’d succeed in getting you here.”

  “That makes two of us. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Of course. Now, what do you have for me?”

  Grace reached into her bag for her book and handed it over. He flipped open the cover and immediately his eyebrows rose. “This is gorgeous. Until I did my research, I hadn’t realized how many of your photographs I’d seen. These were where, Nigeria?”

  “Cameroon.”

  He kept turning pages. She watched his facial expression and body language until he finally closed the book. “There’s no doubt you’re an extraordinary talent. You’re still in high demand for conflicts. Why work for an NGO now?”

  A loaded question if ever there was one. But he wanted the surface-level answer. “Times change. People mature. Quite frankly, I’m feeling like it’s time to settle down, but somehow shooting weddings and births doesn’t feel like a viable option.”

  “I’d think not. Well, there would be some travel involved, but the creative director primarily works with our marketing-and-publicity team, reporting to Henry here. I trust you had a chance to review the job responsibilities my assistant emailed you?”

  “I did. I’ve worked with publications in one capacity or another for fifteen years, even if it was from the other side of the desk. I’m familiar with the process. I’m certain that I’m more than capable of doing the job.”

  “I have no doubt that you are.” DeVries set her book aside. “Do you have your CV?”

  She found the double-sided sheet inside a folder in her bag and handed it to him, cursing the little tremor in her hand. It was not that she was ashamed of her life’s work—quite the opposite, in fact—but her qualifications were much better displayed in a portfolio than on a sheet of paper.

  “Ah, it says here you attended Leeds College of Art. Good photography program. No graduation date, though?”

  “No. I left to work as a photographer’s assistant in Los Angeles. It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.” He didn’t need to know that leaving school to travel with her photographer-boyfriend was the thing that had separated her from her family, and that the “job” had lasted as long as it took for him to find a new assistant/girlfriend once they reached California.

  DeVries nodded slowly, but the way he didn’t quite meet her eyes made her heart sink. “I must level with you, Grace, this could be a problem. I know you’re more than qualified, but when I invited you to come in, I thought you’d completed university.”

  “Kenneth, you’ve seen her work.” Henry leaned forward in his chair. “You don’t learn those skills at uni. Which would you rather have, someone with a brilliant eye and an understanding of what we do here, or a piece of paper?”

  “I’m not the one we have to convince,” DeVries said. “This is a management position, and all London managers have to be vetted by the board. There are a few members who might balk at the fact Grace is a woman, let alone one who dropped out of university.”

  An ache began in her temples. This is why she hated office jobs: the politics, the prejudices, the ridiculous rules. Up to this point in her career, no one had cared where she went to school. No one had even asked. You earned your stripes by doing, not by writing papers and taking exams. But she had committed to Ian, and to herself, that she would make a go of London. That meant she couldn’t let this slip away without a fight.

  “They would be making a mistake then, Mr. DeVries. I’m the best person for this job, and I am one of the few people who has seen firsthand the needs that this organization addresses. It’s easy enough to spout platitudes about Christian charity and feeding the hungry, but when you’ve seen mothers fall weeping in the dirt because their children will have full stomachs for the first time in months … that’s what people need to see. That’s what will move them to action. Not pretty designs or feel-good slogans. If a diploma is the most important thing to your board of directors, there’s not much I can do about that. But you’re looking for something that can’t be taught in any school.”

  DeVries stared at her for a long moment, then gave a nod. “All right, then.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said all right. I’ll put you through for consideration at the board meeting next month. Your passion is what we need here. I suspect you won’t have any trouble winning over the board with a speech like that.”

  Relief rushed through her, followed by a giddy sense of victory. “Thank you.”

  “There is one thing.” A smile tipped up the edges of DeVries’s mouth. “Exactly how close are you and Ian MacDonald?”

  She felt a flush creep up her neck. Apparently they hadn’t been as discreet as she thought. “We’re currently dating.”

  To her surprise, he smiled. “I suspected as much. Best we keep that little detail between the three of us, though. There’s nothing in organization policy against board members dating employees, but I don’t see the need to muddy the waters further.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  “Of course not. Just don’t bring it up unless you’re asked.” DeVries rose and offered his hand again. “Next board meeting is set for the end of August. One of us will call you to confirm the exact date and time.”

  “Thank you.” She shook his hand vigorously, unable to hold back her smile. “I appreciate the chance.”

  “You’re welcome. One more thing.” DeVries leaned over and shuffled through paperwork on his desk until he found a single form. “I need your approval to conduct a background check.”

  “Background check?”

  “Strictly routine. It’s mostly to assure ourselves that you haven’t been involved in any financial impropriety or committed a felony. That sort of thing.”

  “No, of course, I understand.” Grace took the sheet and hurriedly scrawled her signature across the bottom before thrusting it back at him. “I’ll look forward to your call.”

  “Thank you again, Ms. Brennan. Henry will show you out.”

  She walked with Henry to the reception area, said the expected good-byes and thank-yous, then strode from the office. Not until she stepped onto the lift did she draw a full breath. She’d done it. It sounded as if the board’s approval was a formality, and both Kenneth DeVries and Henry Symon wanted her for the job.

  There was only one person with whom she wanted to celebrate.

  Chapter Fifteen


  When Ian stepped off the lift onto the second floor, Ms. Grey was waiting in a perfectly pressed suit, an attaché case on the ground next to her feet.

  “Ms. Grey, you’re early,” he said. “Reception doesn’t come in until nine.”

  “I wanted to get a start on setting up my desk, sir. I hope you don’t mind. I arrived a few minutes ago.”

  “Not at all. Welcome to MacDonald Enterprises.” He unlocked the door and stepped inside the office space, flipping on the lights as he went. The hum of fluorescents followed them through the empty reception area.

  Ian stopped in the reception area outside his office. “This is your desk. Paperwork is already waiting. If you can fill that out straightaway, I’ll have you set up with a code for the computer system by midday.”

  “Code?”

  Ian smiled. “Considering the kind of media attention James receives, we keep information under fairly strict control. As my assistant, you’ll be privy to most of that anyhow. That’s why there’s a confidentiality agreement in the pile.”

  Ms. Grey looked completely unperturbed. “That makes sense. Before I start, what can I do? Should I turn on the copier and make a pot of coffee?”

  “I would appreciate that, thank you.” Ian crossed into his glassed-in office and set his briefcase on the desk. Could it be true? A capable assistant? What were the chances he could actually keep her?

  After sorting through the hundred messages in his email in-box, he went straight into a marketing meeting. Ms. Grey handed him a sheaf of completed forms when he returned. “I’m ready when you are, sir.”

  “Give me a moment, then, and we’ll go over your duties.” Ian returned to his office, hung his coat on the hanger on the back of the door, and grabbed his coffee mug.

  He seated himself in front of Ms. Grey’s desk. “All right. As you might have already guessed, we’re a small operation. Five full-time employees, including you and me. James’s assistant, Bridget, does reception and phones. She reports directly to him. Then we have Elizabeth, the marketing manager who works with his publicist—who of course has other clients and works from her own office—and Douglass, the graphic designer and de facto IT guy.”

  She nodded, taking notes, though Ian expected she memorized every word. “You will be assisting me with the company’s operational duties. All financial information comes through me, whether it be royalties and residuals or the monthly P and L from the restaurants. My brother works directly with his head chefs and front-of-house managers on menus, ordering, and accounts payable. I make sure all the information is properly gathered and in line with previous months. It’s redundant, but since James isn’t as involved as he was in the beginning, having an extra set of eyes on the restaurants’ books keeps everyone honest. Still with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Let me show you the network. We’re paperless, so any statements or reports get scanned in and then shredded immediately. I’ll log in.” He leaned across the desk for the keyboard, pretending not to notice Ms. Grey’s flinch. So his speculations had been correct after all.

  He walked her through the network filing system and software, and then sat back. “Pretty straightforward for you, I’d think. What we do is relatively boring.”

  “It all seems perfectly reasonable, sir. I’ll get started and let you know if I have any questions.”

  Ian nodded, then returned to his own desk. In truth, he had handed off several of his own daily tasks as a test, which left his day significantly lighter than usual. When his mobile phone beeped from his desk drawer, he pulled it out and found Grace’s text message waiting. He smiled to himself as he texted back a rather unhelpful suggestion for dealing with her nervousness. Her immediate sarcastic response elicited a chuckle.

  It wasn’t like Grace to text him just because, though. She probably was legitimately nervous. He keyed in a more serious response.

  You’ll be brilliant. I promise. Just tell him why this means so much to you.

  The office intercom buzzed, and he punched the flashing light. “Ms. Grey?”

  “Mr. MacD—that is, your brother, James—is on line two for you.”

  “Thank you.” He switched over to the active line. “Good morning, Jamie.”

  “Morning. Another new assistant?”

  Ian caught the thread of amusement in his brother’s voice. “Hopefully my last for a while. Ms. Grey can transfer calls and make coffee, and her eyes didn’t glaze over when I explained the computer system.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “Quite. So, what’s up? You’re usually too busy gazing lovingly into your gorgeous fiancée’s eyes to call me here.”

  “That’s still on the agenda for later, after Andrea finishes with the contractor. He made the mistake of lying about why we’re a week behind schedule. It didn’t go over well.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Jamie had originally met his American fiancée when Ian hired her to consult on the renovation of the family hotel on the Isle of Skye. Now that she’d moved to Scotland and formed her own hospitality consulting firm in Inverness, they were using the renovations as the first project in her portfolio. From what Ian had seen on his last trip to Skye, Andrea was running the job with equal measures of charm and intimidation.

  “You still haven’t told me why you’re calling,” Ian said.

  “Right. I didn’t get your reply to the wedding invitation.”

  “You didn’t?” He shuffled papers in his in-box, then opened several drawers of his desk until he laid hands on an ivory vellum envelope. Still unopened. “It’s sitting right here. I must have forgotten to post it.”

  “I already know you’re coming, since you’re the best man. I just need to know if you’re bringing a plus one.”

  Now Ian remembered why he hadn’t opened it. There was nothing worse than attending your younger brother’s wedding alone, and he’d fooled himself into thinking that avoiding the matter would make it go away.

  He tilted the envelope back and forth between his fingers before he placed it firmly on the surface of his desk. “I’m bringing someone.”

  “Really? You’re seeing someone?”

  “Something like that. Just don’t mention it to Mum.”

  Jamie paused on the other end of the line. “Why not?”

  “You know how she is. If she knew, she’d have a private detective on the case in thirty seconds flat. When will you be back in London? There are a few things we need to go over in person, and I’m not about to interrupt your wedding with business.”

  “After the honeymoon. We’ll stay in the flat for a few weeks before we head back to Scotland.”

  “Fair enough. Let me know the dates, and I’ll put it on the calendar.” Ian said his farewells and then hung up the phone. He was certainly capable of going to the wedding alone, but now Grace was back in his life.

  A woman Marjorie had once thrown out of Leaf Hill for daring to challenge Marjorie’s treatment of her.

  No, there was no way this could go wrong.

  He was following that thought to its inevitable conclusion when his phone beeped again. Done! Heading through Westminster. Lunch?

  He glanced at the clock. It had been little more than an hour since the last text message. Did that mean it went well or poorly? Wouldn’t miss it. I can get out of here in 30.

  They decided on a little café not far from the office, and Ian turned back to his work. As he went through the third statement, he dragged off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. What he’d told Ms. Grey was true. Most of what he did all day was mind-numbingly boring. He essentially preserved his brother’s income streams and played babysitter to all the various employees, vendors, and contractors who worked for Jamie. He was quite literally his brother’s keeper.

  But that was the way the world worked. A perfectly fulfilling career was a myth perpetuated by television and self-help books. Wasn’t it?

  When he met Grace in the narrow café, she was alread
y seated with a glass of sparkling water in hand, head bent over her mobile. His eyebrows lifted. He was used to seeing her in jeans and Doc Martens, but now she wore a slim-cut black suit with several strings of glittering glass beads around her neck.

  The hostess saw him, but he waved her off and maneuvered himself behind Grace. He bent to murmur in her ear, “Mind if I join you, beautiful?”

  She turned her head just enough for him to see the mischievous glint in her eye. “I don’t know. My athlete boyfriend might object to me having lunch with a handsome stranger in pinstripes.”

  Ian chuckled and took the seat across from her. “Is that what I am? Your boyfriend?”

  “Do you want to be?” She gave him a sultry little smile that made his wool suit jacket suddenly feel a little too warm.

  He reached for her hand across the table as the waitress arrived to take his drink order.

  “Sparkling water for me as well.” When they were alone again, he said, “I take it the interview went well?”

  “I think so, yes.” She recounted the conversation, from Mr. DeVries’s praise of her artistic vision to his reluctance to put her forward to the board for consideration.

  “So he’s hesitant because you didn’t finish university? That’s mad! Henry thinks you’re a lock for a Pulitzer nomination!”

  “Well, in the end, I convinced him that my experience more than makes up for my lack of education. He’s going to put the application up at the next board meeting.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Ian said. “I know you’ll be perfect.”

  “And the potted palm isn’t even the worse for the wear. What about you? How is your day so far?”

  “Fine. Ms. Grey started work today.”

  “Shouldn’t that please you? You said the last several assistants didn’t work out.”

  “Let’s just say I’m feeling uncharacteristically contemplative. I was explaining my responsibilities to my new assistant and realized how dreadfully dull it all is.” He leaned forward across his folded arms. “I’m going to be forty years old, Grace. What am I doing here?”