Running From Fate (10 page)

A horn honked behind her and she realized that she was just sitting in the middle of the street despite the fact that the light had changed.
Restraining the urge to swear at the other driver
, she
spun the wheel and
pulled into a
nearby
parking lot. 
Her cell phone was easy enough to find since it had a special pocket in her bag, but
it took another five minutes to find the
stupid
phone number.
It seemed that n
o matter how often she cleaned out her purse it always ended up
packed
again.
The thing was like
a black hole.
In frustration, she
turned it
over and emptied the whole mess
onto the
passenger seat.  Of all places, the
slip of paper
was
stuck to the back of her check book with what app
eared to be an old wad of gum, w
hich was strange because she didn’t even like chewing gum.
Oh well, she thought
, she could still read the number.  S
he
flipped open the phone and dialed
. 
After two rings it was picked up.

“
EcoSpace
Industries
, Mr. Kelly’s office
. 
How
can I help
you?
”

She tried to make her voice apologetic and not frantic. 
“Hello, this is Mira Anders.  I
have an interview this morning with Mr. Kelly, but
I’m
pretty sure I’ll
be late.”

“Yes, I rememb
er you,” the pleasant voice said.  “I’m Mary Beecham, James
Kelly’s
secretary
.  We spo
k
e
last week. 
Are you ill?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.  “
Would you like me to see if the meeting can be rescheduled for another day?”

“
I’m fine,” Mira reassured her, “and
I hope
rescheduling
isn’t necessary.  I’m already on my way, but I seem to have gotten lost.”

“
Hmm. 
What street are you on?”
 

“I
started on
a street called Capital Boulevard.  The directions said to come this way, but the road split and now I’m not sure where I am.”

“Oh, honey,
” Mary
groaned.
“
I should have said something.  No one take
s that road unless they have to.
 
It
even confuses locals.
” 

Mira heard the sound of a drawer opening and the rustling of paper before Mary came back on the line
.

“I’ve got a map
here,” she said.  “
If you’re no longer on Capital y
ou need to turn around and
head back the way you came.
  Take a left at the set of lights
directly
before the split
.  Just after the road turns back into
Capital
,
”
she clarified.
  “Y
ou should see a gas station at the corner.
 
Make a right and o
ur building is at the very
end of the street.  T
he boss
is
on a
conference
call so you should still make it.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.  Thank you so much.”  Mira disconnected and pulled back into traffic, hopefully in the right direction.

Ten minutes later she
found herself in
the parking lot of a
low
brick
building.
  It sat at the end of a street,
screened from the
constant noise of a big city
by a thick line of trees
. 
As she got out of the car and walked toward the building, she noticed that t
he roof seemed oddly
reflective.  Upon closer examination
she realized that it was
almost completely
covered by solar panels
.
 
Her foot slipped
on a loose pebble
and she wind-
milled her arms to keep from falling.
  S
he
quickly
pulled her eyes down and focused
on watching where she was going
.
  With her eyes front, she made it to the doors without any more trouble.

The
spacious
lobby
that she entered
had an earthy, but luxurious feel to it that Mira silently approved of.
 
It was decorated in shades of brown and green with color provided b
y
several
vibrant landscape painting
s
on the
cream
wall
s
. 
The obviously expensive
conversation grouping that
sat
to one side
looked like it
was made of all natural materials.
 
The receptionist standing behind a half-moon desk shouted trendy and fashionable.

Like any self-respecting receptionist
—
at least the way books and TV portrayed them
—
sh
e was beautiful
—
tall,
blond
, and sleek with laser blue eyes and a
form-
fitting forest green suit
that showed of her
curvy
body. 
The
blond
woman’s perfection made Mira
feel slightly dowdy
in her own carefully chosen outfit, but she determinedly ignored the feeling
and
stepped
forward.

The woman looked up as she approached.  “
Good morning,” she said in a well-modulated voice.  “
How can I be of assistance?”

Mira tilted her chin and looked the tall woman in the eyes.
“My name is Mira Anders,” she stated authoritatively.  “
I have an appointment with Mr. Kelly.”

As if used to a challenging or aggressive attitude from other women, the
receptionist
smiled kindly and flipped through a bulky appointment book.
  “Have a seat,” she said.
“
I’ll
just
call someone to
take
you back.”

“Thank you.” 
Mira walked over
to
a rich, brown armchair and
sat down, placing
her leather portfolio on her lap
and crossing her ankles
. 

After s
everal minutes a slightly older woman
appeared from a long hallway at the back of the lobby
.  Her fading black hair flowed freely down her back
, almost touching her hips.  S
he
wore
a bright red skirt that flowed around her ankles and a rich blue shirt that looked like something
belonging
to a fortune teller
.  Something told Mira that they would get along famously.

She
laid her bulky folder on the chair and
stood up as the woman
walked toward her. 
“I’m Mira Ander
s,” she
said, holding
out her hand.

“Mary Beecham.”
The older woman grasped
her extended hand and shook
it heartily
.  “
I’m glad you made it.  Mr. Kelly is still on the phone
,” she confided.  “It’s a conference call so if we hurry, you should still make it in time
.
  If you’ll come with me dear.
”  She
turned and headed back the way she had come
.
Mira picked up her portfolio and followed.

They walked down the hall
way
and entered an open door at the far end. 
The call must still be going on, she thought, as what was obviously the door to the inner office was still firmly shut.
She clutched her folder and looked around for a place to sit.
 

Mary walked to a
small table
that held a
percolator
, mugs, and a selection of
pastries. 
“Would you like a cup
of coffee
?” she asked

“
That’s probably not a good idea,” Mira confided jokingly.  “
I’m already
so
nervous that I’m afraid I’ll drop
anything you give me
.
”

“Why don’t you have a seat then?”  She gestured to a nearby chair.  Before Mira could take a step, however, the inner door opened.

Her heart felt like it had fallen to the floor.  With a low thump her portfolio dropped, released by her numb fingers. 
Intellectually, she knew that the
person
standing in the doorway
was James Kelly, but it was hard to reconcile her childhood
images
with this
beautiful man.  Despite the impropriety she couldn’t help running her eyes slowly over him, from the m
idnight black hair
that
fell to his shoulders in a gentle wave
to the lean
,
but muscular body that
was encased in a beautifully fitted
navy suit.