“…I’m telling you we need those Sheetrockers there tomorrow. This house doesn’t close by the fifteenth, it ain’t gonna close, you know what I’m saying? Right, and in order to do that, we gotta get rid of these last few stragglers…No, that’s not good enough. The bank’s watchin’ us closely, wondering whether or not to plunk down another few mil. We need to convince them that their money’s perfectly safe with us, and sales are the only way to do that. We have to close some escrows…That’s right…Cole wanted it to happen yesterday…okay, see that it does…you got it…take it easy, man.”
He hung up and offered her a hesitant yet curious smile as he rose to his full height of nearly six feet and rounded the desk. “You must be Jaclyn Wentworth,” he said. “Cole told me you’d be coming.”
He didn’t add that Cole had said she’d arrive at eight, but Jaclyn feared he was thinking it. “Yes. I’m sorry I’m a little late. I’m normally very punctual, but my car battery was dead this morning and I had to get a jump.”
Fleetingly Jaclyn realized she should have left her car running, given it time to recharge the battery. Instead, she’d pulled into the closest parking space, cut the engine and dashed for the office, which meant she’d probably need to get another jump come five o’clock. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
“I’m Rick, Cole’s kid brother,” the man said, offering to shake hands. “I’m the company controller, which in our case basically means I run the front office here, manage the cash flow and do the accounting.”
“I think I remember seeing you a time or two in Feld.” Jaclyn smiled as she accepted the big hand that momentarily engulfed hers. Unlike Chad, Rick wasn’t the spitting image of Cole. He had the same lean, muscular build, the same angles to his face, but he had dark blond hair and blue eyes that held a certain wariness Cole had lost since high school. Jaclyn could sense other differences, as well, but couldn’t yet place what they were.
“You probably did. I was a freshman when Cole was a senior. He said you were in his class.”
“I was, but I certainly never expected to run into him again.”
“It’s a small world.”
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned one hip on his desk. “Um, just so I understand your capabilities, Ms. Wentworth, do you know how to use Windows?”
Jaclyn had seen that program mentioned a lot in the want ads. Everyone wanted a secretary who knew how to run Windows. “I’m afraid I don’t. I haven’t had much experience with a computer. But, please, call me Jaclyn.”
“Jaclyn it is, then.” He paused. “So you’ve never done any word processing?”
“No, but I can type. I—I took typing in high school.”
“Okay. Do you have any accounting skills? Any bookkeeping in your background?”
“Unfortunately not.” Until she’d left Terry, Jaclyn hadn’t even balanced her own checkbook. Terry’s father had given them a monthly allowance, handled the credit-card statements and paid all the bills, but she wasn’t about to volunteer that information. Rick’s questions were already making her feel painfully inadequate.
“To tell you the truth, I’ve never worked in an office before,” she admitted. “I think Cole hired me more on faith than anything else, because of the Feld connection. But I’m a quick learner and determined to be an asset here. I know it might be frustrating for you at first, but I hope you’ll bear with me long enough to let me prove myself.”
Jaclyn knew her sincerity had had an effect when Rick grinned and the hesitation in his manner eased. “I started with less. I think we can work with that.”
“Great. Where do you want me to sit?”
He indicated a smaller mahogany desk next to a large map of the development. “That’s your spot there, until we hire a real-estate agent and rearrange the place to accommodate three. For the time being, you can collect résumés for the position. Why don’t you do the initial interview, too, then recommend the top three candidates to me? That would free some of my time so I can get caught up around here.”
Jaclyn started to say that she didn’t know what type of person they were looking for, but he raised a hand to let her know he anticipated such a response. “Cole told me you’re not familiar with real-estate sales, but you can get some sort of feel for whether a person is reliable and well-motivated, and whether they seem experienced, right?”
She nodded.
“We’d prefer someone who’s been in the business a few years, but we’d stretch for a new licensee, if they’re exceptionally sharp.”
“Okay.” Jaclyn settled behind her new desk, which sat perpendicular to Rick’s so that she saw him every time she looked up. An old-fashioned lamp, a black business phone, and a pad and penholder awaited her use on the polished surface; the drawers were empty, except for the recent addition of her purse and a Reno telephone book that looked as if it had been there since the beginning of time. “Will I be getting a computer?”
“I’ll pick one up for you as soon as I can, but here’s the bad news. There won’t be anyone available to train you today until after lunch. I have to go to the county planning department and try to get the tree inspector to sign off on a couple of dying trees so we can have them removed and lay a foundation tomorrow. And Cole is out all day on appointments.” He glanced helplessly around the office, and Jaclyn got the distinct impression that he didn’t quite know what to do with her. “Any chance you could answer phones and do some filing until then?”
“Sure.” Jaclyn gave him a reassuring smile that lasted until he headed out. But as soon as the door closed behind him, her confidence fizzled. She was sitting behind her new desk, wearing her best suit, gazing out at the perfectly manicured lawn and expansive Perrini Homes sign, feeling like a complete fraud. How much time would Cole—and Rick—give her to become comfortable with her position? Judging by the vast amount she needed to learn, she feared it would never be enough.
Dropping her head in her hands, Jaclyn massaged her temples to alleviate the headache that was already starting to pound there, then turned a doleful eye on the box Rick had set on the floor next to her before he left. It was overflowing with important-looking papers and business documents—profit and loss statements, escrow papers, house plans, bills, letters, litigation for God knows what, and receipts. Obviously, if Rick was the one in charge of the filing before she came, he was way behind.
Or he didn’t know what to do with the stuff any more than she did. A daunting thought.
Jaclyn hauled the box into the next room and found a large photocopying machine and an entire bank of filing cabinets, just as Rick had promised. Hope momentarily raised its head as she gazed at the gleaming oak cabinets—they looked fairly innocuous—but then she opened the drawers. They were filled to bursting with hanging folders that weren’t even in alphabetical order. And the papers inside them might as well have been written in Russian for all Jaclyn understood about what they were and why they belonged where they did.
What made her think she could do this job? she wondered, her insecurities returning full force. Rick had asked her to file, to file, for Pete’s sake—which was supposed to be the easiest job in the world—and she couldn’t even do that.
Feeling a little like the poor girl in “Rumpelstiltskin,” who was locked in a chamber and expected to spin straw into gold, Jaclyn eyed the clock on the wall. She had three hours until Rick was expected back. She had to have something to show for them.
Tears of frustration brimmed as Jaclyn turned to the cabinet on her left and opened the top drawer, but she blinked them back. She’d wanted an opportunity, and Cole had given her one. She’d figure the filing system out somehow, even if it meant she had to read every piece of paper in the whole darn office.
IT WAS WELL AFTER SEVEN in the evening when Cole