CHAPTER ONE
Sitting at the table, boiled egg in front of her, Michaela carried on a one-sided conversation with said egg: "So, where is he? Where's the handsome, witty, intelligent, honest, industrious, besotted husband who should be sitting across the table from me? Where are the little boy and his sister? They should be sitting here as well, squabbling over the jam jar. This isn't what I pictured my life to be at twenty-eight, or even at twenty-five, for that matter. You know something? You are no help!" She dashed some salt on her silent partner, ground some fresh pepper and added a dab of butter. Four spoonfuls into her mouth, and there was nothing left but the shell.
Spreading ginger marmalade on a slice of crunchy nut toast, she munched, enjoying the sweet and tangy burst of flavor that filled her mouth. Breakfast over, she went out and picked up her paper, then settled with a cup of coffee and a pen in the living room. Feet up on the coffee table, she found the puzzle page and prepared to start her day. The rest of the paper would be scanned at noon, over lunch.
This was her routine every morning, and every morning she kept one eye on the clock and the other on the puzzles. She had created what was her idea of a dream job, and for the most part, it was. Her office was a few steps down the hall, her tools - a telephone, a computer, fax machine, printer and scanner, and various software programs. She was her own boss, could live wherever she wished as long as she had access to high-speed Internet, and work as much or as little as she chose. She could even work in her nightshirt, but this was something she had yet to do, wanting to feel dressed for the job at hand.
Sticking rigidly to a nine-to-five schedule, Monday to Friday, except when she had some rush job to complete - something that was occurring a little too often now - she was conscientious about giving great value for her fees. Not realizing that she would be cut off from the rest of the world to such a degree, she was starting to feel the isolation. Because she had taken on more clients than was prudent, her business was increasing, as they became more successful. Friends had stopped calling and asking her to go out with them, after being told too many times that she couldn't spare the time.
She knew that working weekends to keep on top of things was a bad idea, and also that she was going to have to cut off a couple of clients. It wasn't going to be easy because they were small businesses, just getting started, unable to afford, or need, a full time secretary, but requiring help with all sorts of secretarial tasks. And that was why they needed her.
Having worked for over five years as an administrative assistant in a large firm, she was familiar with software programs, simple bookkeeping, setting up and maintaining databases and extracting reports from them as required. She scheduled meetings, prepared proposals, wrote clear and concise letters, carried out Internet research, and assembled information for the accountant at tax time. Whatever the clients required, she would deliver in a professional and speedy manner.
She had yet to meet any clients face to face as contact was made via email or telephone, after they had found one of her flyers, a business card from a bulletin board, or her website. But of late she had been getting calls from people referred by word of mouth. Feeling responsible for her clients' success, she had been thinking about finding an assistant who could carry some of the load for her, but in no way did she want to set up an office and hire staff. If she did find someone, it would have to be someone who was a self-starter, able to do what she was doing, but do it on his or her own. At the moment she couldn't think of anyone, and it was a sticky problem she knew she'd have to deal with sooner rather than later.
These thoughts were running through her head as she worked on the puzzles and sipped her now-cooling coffee. Because her mind was focused on the tasks at hand, she jumped when the doorbell rang. Dropping the paper and pen, she went to the door, pulled it open, and thought, Oh! My! God! It's him! It's the husband I've been looking for all my life. She just stood and stared. He was tall, his hair was dark brown with auburn streaks, a little too long; his eyes were blue, he was wearing a suit and tie, and she suddenly realized she was staring.
"Can I help??"
"I wonder if you could help me." He had a killer smile, even white teeth, a square jaw, and lots of laugh lines. "I'm looking for Evan Forsythe, but I'm having trouble finding his civic address. Do you know where he lives?"
"Um, yes - next driveway on the right. It branches into two, and Evan's house is the one furthest back from the road, on the left. I think some kids broke off his address number post when they were whacking mailboxes, and he hasn't had a chance to replace it yet."
"Thanks. You've been a big help." And just like that, he disappeared from her doorstep and her life, driving off in a big silver SUV.