Your Heart's Desire (8 page)

“And my mother expects everyone to come, along with your wives or husbands or dates,” Mr. Gordon told them. “Be there or be square.”

They all laughed. Well, everyone except for Caroline. Despite her pasted-on smile, she felt like crying. But as the crowd grew loud and boisterous again, she saw her chance for a smooth getaway. Whispering to Doris that she felt unwell, she slunk around the backside of the buffet table, dumped the contents of her uneaten lunch in the kitchen area, then slipped out the door and back to the production department.

Sitting at Miss Bentley's desk, Caroline wondered if she should put everything that she'd just rearranged back into its former place. Just like she'd found it. But then she realized that her reorganization would actually make it easier for the returning secretary. Besides, she reminded herself as she started to transcribe a letter from Miss Bentley's steno pad, it was possible that she wasn't really about to be shown the door. Perhaps, if she minded her p's and q's, she might be able to keep this job until the end of the week.

As she continued working, finishing up some correspondence that Miss Bentley had left behind, pausing to answer the phone as needed, Caroline was determined to be so efficient and well mannered that Mr. Hancock would not want her to leave until her six weeks were up. After that, well, who knew?

When three o'clock finally came, she felt as if she'd put in a ten-hour day. She knew it was mostly due to the stress—stress she had brought on herself by acting so silly in front of Mr. Gordon. Something she would never do again! Not that she'd get the opportunity.

“You seem to be settling in just fine,” Mr. Hancock said as he was leaving the office. “I really appreciate your efforts, Mrs. Clark.”

“Thank you,” she said a bit meekly.

“And you heard what Mr. Gordon said today.” He shook a stern finger at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked nervously. Had he overheard her conversation with the president?

“Everyone is expected to be at the Gordons' party tonight.” He smiled. “That means you, too, Mrs. Clark.”

“Oh…well, that's very kind, but I'm not sure I can make it.”

“You're part of our team,” he reminded her as he opened the glass door. “You heard what the boss said. Be there or be square.” He laughed as he exited.

Caroline took time to straighten her desk, waiting until three fifteen to gather her things. Her hope was that most everyone would be gone by then. She simply wanted to slink out unnoticed. She even took the stairs instead of the elevator and was completely outside when she heard someone say her name.

“Mrs. Clark!” a male voice called.

She turned to see Mr. Gordon hurrying behind her, waving his hands as if he thought she'd just made off with the company's payroll. More likely, he simply wanted to fire her with little ado.

“Yes?” She stood her ground, waiting for the ax to fall, suspecting he was about to say they wouldn't need her to return on Wednesday.

“I'm glad I caught you,” he said a bit breathlessly. “I saw you taking the stairs and—well, never mind. I just wanted to—”

“I'm so sorry,” she burst out. “I was very disrespectful and unprofessional at lunchtime. I honestly had no idea who you were, Mr. Gordon. Not that it's an excuse. It certainly is not. I have no legitimate excuse. Except that I was a complete and utter fool. I do hope that you'll accept my most sincere apology.” She fought to hold back her tears of frustration. She would not let him see her cry.

He blinked in surprise. “Well, yes, of course I accept your apology. But there's no need for that.” He made a sheepish smile. “I actually enjoyed the whole charade. When you know me better, you'll understand that I'm a bit of a jokester myself. And, to be fair, I owe you an apology, too. I should've revealed my identity that day we met at the coffee shop. That was pretty thoughtless on my part. Not to mention bad manners.”

“Oh…?” She didn't want to show it, but that exact thought had gone through her head this afternoon. Why hadn't he given her his name the first time? Almost like he'd been playing cat and mouse.

“The reason I stopped you just now was to make sure you understood that you're invited to my parents' big bash tonight. I know you overheard me telling Evelyn that you were just temporary, and I'm sure it sounded all wrong. But I do hope you'll come tonight, Mrs. Clark. And, please, bring your husband, too.”

She took in a quick breath. “My husband was killed in the war, Mr. Gordon.”

His face grew somber. “I'm truly sorry for your loss. I didn't realize.”

“Thank you.” She tugged on the cuff of her glove. “He was a good man.”

“I'm sure he was.” His expression seemed full of concern now. “How long has it been since you lost him?”

“His plane was shot down fairly early on in the war. Almost four years now. It was in the South Pacific.”

“I was in the Pacific theater, too,” he said quietly.

“Really?” This caught her completely off guard. For some reason she'd imagined him running the chocolate factory throughout the war. But then again, she'd imagined the president to be much older, too—and not the same man she'd crossed paths with in the coffee shop. Apparently she was wrong about a number of things.

He glanced at his watch. “I hope we can continue this conversation later, but I promised to run some errands for my mother right now. You are coming to the big party tonight, aren't you?”

“Oh…I don't know…”

“Please, say you'll come, Mrs. Clark. Otherwise I'll feel guilty. As if my little prank has turned you against me for good.”

Just then she remembered what everyone had been saying about team players. It was possible she would not be considered a team player if she snubbed their get-together tonight. And just when she was feeling a bit more hopeful about keeping her job, too. “Okay,” she agreed. “I'd love to come.”

“Good.” He tipped his hat. “See you then.”

Just as he turned to go in the other direction, Doris emerged from the building. “There you are,” she called out as she joined Caroline. “Are you feeling better now? I was worried about you. It looked like you'd eaten a bad piece of fish.”

Caroline laughed as they walked down the sidewalk together. “Yes, I'm feeling much better. Thank you for asking.”

“And you're going to the big wingding tonight?” Doris paused under the striped awning of the chocolate shop to retrieve a set of car keys from her handbag.

“I guess so.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Especially since the boss just insisted I should be there.”

“Oh, that Mr. Gordon. He's such a good man. Always going out of his way to make people feel welcome and important. I just saw him talking to one of the janitors a bit ago, sincerely inquiring about his wife's ill health and telling him to pick up a box of chocolates—complimentary.”

“That is nice.”

Doris pointed across the street. “My car's over there. Need a ride?”

“No, I'm only a few blocks from here.” She put her hand on Doris's arm. “Do you know how we're supposed to dress for tonight?”

“Oh, it's always very formal.” Doris patted her hat. “I'm off to get my hair done right now.”

“Formal?” Caroline felt her spirits sink.

“Oh, yes. You'll see sequins and satin and furs and the works. It's all very glamorous. Such fun, too!”

“And does everyone bring a date?”

“Not everyone.” Doris grinned. “I'm not bringing anyone this year. I think it'll be more fun this way. Say, do you need a ride?”

“That would be wonderful.”

They exchanged phone numbers, and Doris promised to pick her up at seven thirty sharp. Pausing to peer into her reflection of the chocolate shop window, Doris grimaced. “Good grief, I better get myself to the hairdresser's fast. I look like a wreck!”

As Doris hurried away, Caroline caught a glimpse of another image in the shop's gleaming window. Staring at her own reflection, she felt shocked. If she hadn't known better, she would've assumed that was her mother looking back! Maybe there was something to what her sister and a few of her coworkers had been suggesting to her after all.

Chapter 9

As Caroline went into
her little apartment, she was overwhelmed with conflicted emotions. On one hand, she knew she should be thankful that her job was not in jeopardy. At least she didn't think it was. Not for six weeks anyway. On the other hand, she felt like she was in way over her head. The MG Chocolate Factory—at least the executive employees—was so sophisticated and worldly compared to what she'd been used to. And compared to the other secretaries, including Mrs. Gallagher, who was probably in her late fifties, Caroline was a dowdy, mousy, frumpy plain Jane.

Oh, she knew that appearances were deceiving. And she knew she was a good, steady, reliable worker. But she also knew that she'd stuck out like a sore thumb today. And now she was expected to come up with an appropriate outfit to wear to the formal New Year's Eve party tonight. She looked through her spartan closet, trying to determine if there was something in there she might be able to make over into some sort of an evening gown. But without a magic wand, it looked impossible. Perhaps the wise choice would be to simply stay home. Or was that the coward's way out?

“Hello? Caroline?” Marjorie called from the top of the stairs. “Joe said he saw you coming home—you down there?”

“I am.”

“Well, come on up here. Lulu's still napping and I want to show you something.”

Caroline barely reached the top of the stairs when Marjorie grabbed her by the hand. “Come on, Sis. Let's hurry before Lulu wakes up.”

“Where are the boys?” Caroline whispered as they started up the stairs.

“Joe took Danny outside after his nap. I gave them a picnic snack to eat out there.”

“Well, you are just the one I need to talk to,” Caroline said quietly. “Turns out you were right about my fashion sense. Or lack of it. Seems that I need to improve my image.”

“That is exactly what I have in mind.” Marjorie pulled Caroline into her bedroom where the bed was piled with clothes.

“Are you packing to go somewhere?” Caroline picked up a pretty pink blouse.

“No. These are the clothes that are already too small for me.” Marjorie patted her rounded midsection. “And I got to thinking it's a shame to have them just sitting in my closet. Meanwhile my sister is running around town looking like the war's still on.”

Caroline sighed. “Point taken.”

Marjorie held up a periwinkle peplum jacket and matching skirt. “I just got this a few months ago. On sale at Miss Beverly's Fine Fashions. I only wore it once. To a luncheon with Rich's mother.”

“Very pretty.”

Marjorie held the jacket up to Caroline. “It will look lovely on you.”

“Oh, Marjorie, I can't take your new suit. You'll want it back after the—”

“It's just a loan,” Marjorie explained. “You can use these things until you can afford to update your own wardrobe. And it will be good to get them out of my closet. It only makes me sad to see them there.” She grabbed a handful and thrust them toward Caroline. “For all I know, they'll be out of style by the time I can fit into them again.”

“This is so incredibly generous.”

“Well, you used to give me your hand-me-downs,” Marjorie reminded her. “I always acted like it wasn't fair that I had to wear secondhand clothes, but the truth was I loved having your things. I used to think you had real style back then. Back before…well, before the war and everything. You know…”

“I know.” Caroline felt her eyes getting misty. “This is really sweet of you, Marjorie. I honestly don't know how to thank you.”

“Well, just take good care of them.” She chuckled. “I know you will. You were always much more careful with clothes than I was. Even that short stint I did for the modeling agency, I would get hecky-pecky for not handling garments properly.”

Caroline laughed. “Yes, that was one reason I preferred to just give you my older clothes than to lend them to you. I never knew what kind of shape they'd come back in.” She held up a cheery red dress with small white polka dots. “This is fun.”

“I outgrew that waistline right after Thanksgiving,” Marjorie admitted. “But it ought to fit you perfectly.” She pulled out the full skirt. “And the hemline is much more fashionable than
that
.” She pointed to Caroline's gray skirt.

“So I've gathered.” Caroline told Marjorie about how stylish the other secretaries looked today. “Next to them I was a dowdy duck.”

“It's possible they were dressed more colorfully than usual because it's New Year's Eve,” Marjorie told her. “I mean I've seen some of them before and I'll admit they're rather chic, but they probably don't always dress up so much.”

“Speaking of New Year's Eve…” Caroline told Marjorie about the party at the Gordon home. “Won't you and Rich want to go?”

Marjorie frowned. “Some day we'll go. At least I hope so. But not until Rich gets a big promotion and moves up to the executive offices.”

“Oh…well, I didn't really want to go, but Mr. Gordon went to a special effort to make sure I knew I was invited.” She felt her cheeks warming. “I mean because I'm a temporary employee, you know? He thought I might not feel like I belonged there.”

“Mr. Gordon invited you personally?” Marjorie's eyes grew wide.
“Himself?”

“Yes. I was on my way home. He ran out onto the sidewalk and stopped me.”

“He
ran
?”

“Well, maybe he didn't actually run. I mean he sort of rushed out.”

“Oh, Caroline, I'll bet he likes you.”

“I'm sure he likes all his employees. He seems like a very nice man.”

Marjorie grabbed Caroline's hand. “Do you
like
him?”

“Well, of course I like him. He's the president of the company.”

“You know what I mean, Sis.”

Caroline's cheeks grew even warmer.

“Look at you—you're blushing.” Marjorie forced Caroline in front of her big dresser mirror. “You do like him, don't you? You can tell me.”

Caroline's hand went up to her cheek. “Oh…I don't know…I suppose I sort of like him. I mean that sounds so silly…childish even.”

“That's wonderful!”

Caroline laughed nervously. “Why is that wonderful? You know as well as I do that my chances with a man like Mr. Gordon would be minuscule…especially with someone like Evelyn Stuart around. I'm pretty sure that those two are a pair. I even heard some of the girls at work are wagering that he will propose to her by Valentine's Day.”

Marjorie frowned. “Well, that doesn't give you a whole lot of time, now does it?”

“I don't think time is going to help.” Caroline leaned forward to peer at her frumpy image in the mirror. “The bathroom mirror in the apartment is a bit cloudy,” she confessed as she touched her hair. “I think my hair looked better in it down there.”

Marjorie chuckled. “At least that's an easy fix.” She reached for a hairbrush and immediately began unpinning Caroline's thick auburn hair. “You brush it out while I get something from the guest room closet.”

By the time Caroline had brushed her hair out, letting it fall loose upon her shoulders, Marjorie returned with a long garment bag in hand. “I got this when I was working at the modeling agency, before the war began.” Her voice was laced with excitement. “I nearly forgot about it. I haven't worn it since before Danny was born, and I'm afraid it might be a bit out of fashion by now. But perhaps we can do something about that.” She slowly unzipped the bag and a full skirt of rich garnet-colored satin poured out.

“Oh, Marjorie.” Caroline felt her eyes growing large. “That is lovely.”

“Wait until you see the rest of it.” She carefully extracted it from the bag, holding it out like a prize. The fitted bodice sparkled with garnet-colored sequins and looked like something that might've been worn in a movie. “It was a little snug on me after I had Danny, but I'm sure it'll fit you perfectly.”

“It's beautiful.” Caroline ran her hand down the shiny skirt. “Just beautiful.”

“I was wearing it when I met Rich.” Marjorie held the gown up to herself and sighed. “The modeling agency had sent some of us girls to work at an awards ceremony, something to do with the film industry, but not the Academy Awards. Anyway, we wore designer gowns, and afterward, we were allowed to purchase them with a really big discount.” She laughed. “I used all my earnings just to buy this silly old gown.”

“I can understand why.” Caroline stared at the gorgeous garment. The style was classic, with a sweetheart neckline and fitted three-quarter-length sleeves. And the full skirt poured out in luscious billows of satin.

“Naturally, I had to come up with an excuse to wear it again.” Still holding the gown to her, Marjorie waltzed around the bedroom.

“Naturally.” Caroline smiled at her younger sister.

“Which is why some of us girls—from the agency—decided to go to a USO Christmas party. We wanted to show off. And, of course, we were dressed to the nines. And, as you know, that's where I met Rich.” She laughed. “The rest is history.”

“Well, this gown is absolutely gorgeous. And I can't imagine why you'd think it was out of fashion. I realize I'm not an expert, but I don't think a classic sort of dress like this could ever be out of style.”

“Maybe…but it's not as flashy as some of the gowns I've been seeing in movies and magazines lately.” She held it up to Caroline now, nodding with approval.

“Well, it has plenty of flash for someone like me.” Caroline giggled. “Honestly, Marjorie, I feel like I'm about seventeen again, getting ready for my class prom.”

“It's about time you had some fun.” Marjorie removed it from the padded hanger. “Let's get you out of that old-lady suit and see how this looks.”

“Do you really think it'll fit me?” Caroline hurried to unbutton her jacket.

“Well, you know we're nearly the same size, although I'm a little shorter than you, but I wore it with a sweet pair of matching high heels. Maybe you could wear it with a lower heel.” Marjorie already had the back opened up.

“I don't own a pair of shoes that would look right with this dress, and you know my feet are bigger than yours.”

“Looks like you'll have to go shoe shopping.”

By seven thirty Caroline was elegantly dressed. Besides the garnet gown and a new pair of black patent leather pumps, she wore a pair of borrowed garnet earrings and a black fur stole. Marjorie had helped pin her hair into a looser, more feminine style and insisted she wear a touch of lipstick and rouge. “I feel just like Cinderella,” she nervously told Marjorie as they waited in the front room for Doris to arrive.

“You look like a movie star.” Joe looked at her with wide eyes. “I can't believe you're really my mom.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I actually feel a little silly,” she confessed. “I'm not used to dressing up like this.”

“Is that your friend?” Marjorie pointed to the light blue car pulling into the driveway.

“Looks like it.” Caroline thanked Marjorie once more, then bent down to kiss Joe on the cheek, wiping off the lipstick smudge and smiling. “I know you'll be good for Aunt Marjorie. And you'll go to bed when she says to.”

He nodded. “Have fun at your party, Mom.”

“I'll try.” As she hurried out to Doris's car, she had no idea what to expect and desperately hoped that she wasn't overdressed. She felt somewhat relieved to see that Doris had on a formal gown, too, a shimmering confection of pink and blue. But still, she felt uneasy.

“This all feels so strange to me,” Caroline admitted as Doris took a winding road that went up a hill. “As if I'm someone else…not me.”

“Wait until you see the Gordons' home,” Doris said as she turned into a long driveway. “Then you'll really feel like you're someone else.”

The Gordon home was stucco like Marjorie's, but it was enormous and all lit up with cars pulling in and guests piling out. A parking valet took Doris's keys, and the next thing Caroline knew they were walking through the big double doors, going into an enormous foyer that resembled something from a Hollywood movie set.

“Welcome,” Mr. Gordon graciously greeted them both, politely introducing Caroline to his father as a young man collected their wraps. “Mr. Maxwell Gordon, the founder of MG Chocolates,” he said proudly. Both men wore nearly identical black tuxedos and both looked very elegant—the young and the old. And now Caroline began to feel slightly more comfortable in her formal gown. She wasn't the least bit overdressed.

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Clark,” the senior Mr. Gordon told her. “And good to see you again, Miss Fowler. Welcome—welcome! Please, make yourselves at home.”

“My mother had hoped to be out here to greet the guests, too,” the younger Mr. Gordon explained to them, “but she twisted her ankle earlier.”