Page 23 of The Last Autograph
11
Molly looked up as her boss, Winston Rewi, strode toward her desk, coffee in one hand and a Danish in the other.
“Parker, be in my office in five.” Despite his booming voice and gruff manner, Winston was a nice enough guy but also a relentless driver of his staff, so much so that he considered social lives and family time an inconvenient distraction from working life. As for lunch breaks, if you weren’t capable of eating at your desk, he believed your skill set was sadly lacking.
Molly locked her computer, then picked up her tablet and made her way to Winston’s office, a slight unease stirring in her gut. She knocked.
“Come in and take a seat.”
She took the chair opposite his desk, the aroma of freshly roasted coffee taunting her, and cast an eye over the chaos of files, magazines, and family photos on display.
“How are you enjoying it here?” As if asking only to be polite, Winston didn’t bother looking up from his to-go cup.
Molly hesitated. She liked the job okay, but as a business, it seemed slightly disorganized and understaffed. “It’s going great, thank you. I appreciate you giving me the position.”
Winston finally met her gaze. “Yeah, well, we’ve hit a bit of a roadblock, and I need you to step up.”
She clutched her tablet tighter. He’d never questioned her ability to get the job done before. “Is there a problem with my work?”
“Not at all, but you’ve heard Lara’s pregnant, right?”
Molly visualized tall, elegant Lara. If she was pregnant, it must still be early days. “No, I hadn’t heard that.”
“Yep. I tell ya, there’s something in the damn water around here. First Sonita, now Lara. And unfortunately, she’s been confined to bed rest for the next few weeks, but that’s strictly confidential. So I need you to pick up a couple of her clients while we sort things out. Are you up for it?”
“Um, sure.”
“Good, good. The first one’s a new kid on the block. The account’s small, just some social media and feel-good community stuff, but we’re a bespoke firm, and Jake wants bespoke, so keep that in mind.”
Molly’s heart sank as she registeredthe name. “Jake?”
“Yeah. Jake Sinclair from that new bakery on Seaview Road. Do you know the one I mean?”
“Petrie Patisserie?”
Winston nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Nice guy, by all accounts. A tad pedantic, according to Lara, but that’s how we succeed in the world of business, by insisting on quality. Isn’t that right?”
Molly nodded and inhaled deeply. Lara would be a tough act to follow,ifJake even agreed to it. Somehow, she doubted he would after their disastrous meeting the other day. And frankly, despite his delicious éclairs and her sympathy for his circumstances, the thought of working with him didn’t appeal in the slightest. She’d dealt with enough grumpy men in her life and had no interest in adding another one to the list.
“I’ll flick him an email outlining the changes,” Winston continued. “Then you guys can tee up a meeting when it suits Jake.”
Molly longed to utter a mild obscenity under her breath but instead stuck with the generic “Okay.”
“Great. That’s all.”
She stood and walked toward the door but turned with a reconsidered thought. “Actually, I’ve already met Jake.”
“Yeah? And is that a problem?” Winston narrowed his eyes. “You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”
Molly had to stop her mouth from falling open at the inappropriateness of his question. “What? Of course not!”
“Well, no harm, no foul then.”
No harm, no foul.Molly hadn’t heard that expression since living in the States. Now, linking it to her working on Jake’s account seemed an understatement.
As she left her boss’s office, Molly checked her watch, and from that moment on—ten forty-five—her day reminded her of working in New York when she had impossible deadlines and uber-pedantic clients.
Finishing work thirty minutes late, Molly took the waterfront route home, listening to Sia and Kylie sing about dancing alone and mulling Jake Sinclair over in her mind. In an ideal world, they could have been friends, brought together by their mutual respect for Jesse and the tragedy of his shortened life.
