No Sunshine When She's Gone by Kate Angell

Author:Kate Angell [Angell, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Eight

Jillian Mac was one step inside the construction trailer when she realized Carrie was not behind her. She’d hoped for her friend’s support. Instead the door had abruptly closed. She worried about Carrie being stuck outside with Mike Burke. They had nothing in common, and even less to say to each other. The guy was an ass.

“How may I help you?” the receptionist asked Jill. The older woman was seated at a desk so large, it seemed to swallow her small body. She could barely be seen behind an enormous bouquet of yellow roses.

She had a fragile but friendly face, from what Jill could see. Her auburn hair had hints of gray, and was pinned in a loose bun. Wire-rimmed glasses sat low on her nose. She wore a peach blouse with a string of short pearls at her neck. Her scent was classic Chanel. Agnes Spencer was scripted on her nameplate.

“I’m Jillian Mac, and I’m here to see Aidan Cates,” she said. “I’ve been told he’s off-site at the moment.”

Agnes glanced at the wall clock, which was big and round and easy to read. “He phoned a few minutes ago, and is on his way back now,” she informed Jill. “Can I assist you in any way?”

Not unless you can introduce me to Aidan’s girls, Jill wanted to say, but didn’t. She hesitated. “It’s personal.”

Agnes didn’t question her further. She nodded to a row of straight-back chairs, lined against the wall. “You’re welcome to wait.”

“Thank you.” Jill chose a seat at the far end. This gave her a vantage point of the comings and goings and all that was happening in the office. She’d yet to see any young, hot women. Did Aidan prefer blondes or brunettes?

She looked around. The office was immaculate. This wasn’t just any construction trailer; it appeared custom made. The overhead fluorescent lighting was modern. There wasn’t a single scuff mark on the white vinyl tile floor. Framed pictures hung on the back wall. She squinted. They were family photos, parents with their children.

A second woman stuck her head around a partition. Her gaze was narrowed and her brow was creased. Her long gray braid draped over her shoulder. She wore a high-collared blue blouse. “Agnes,” she called to the receptionist. “Did Weller Plumbing drop off their project invoices?”

“Not that I’m aware, Mary,” Agnes replied.

“I’m printing checks for Aidan to sign,” Mary went on to say. “I’d wanted to include Weller in this week’s accounts payable.”

“I can give them a call,” a third woman said, coming from the back of the trailer. She walked with a cane. Tall and full-figured, she was the oldest of the three, if Jill was any judge of age. Jill figured her close to seventy. She wore her hair in a snow-white bob. Her black pantsuit was perfectly tailored. An antique cameo was pinned to her lapel. She appeared all business.

“Nora, I’ll take care of Weller,” Mary said to the statuesque woman. “You’re in the middle of reviewing project contracts and bids.

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