When Megan Smiles. Mary Wilson Anne
to reach for her briefcase and her cell phone, she had a flashing memory of Rafe looking at her ring. Of his joke about her earpiece, and his teasing about a chariot and Cinderella.
She took a deep breath and banished that night from her thoughts. Taking out her phone and turning it on, she dropped it in the pocket of her shirt and hooked the earpiece in place. But before she could press the microphone button and give the command to call Ryan, the device rang. She pressed the Receive button on the cord and said, “Hello?” not realizing how much she wanted it to be Ryan until she heard another voice.
“Meggie?”
Quint was the only one to call her Meggie, and he seldom phoned her. He was so busy with his new life, she seldom got a chance to talk to him. “I haven’t heard from you since…oh, I remember,” she said. “When you told me you were going to change diapers again, and that the adoption was going through.”
“I did, and I am.” He laughed, a rich sound on the line. “I finally remembered why you stand back when you diaper a boy.”
It was her turn to laugh. “It’ll come back to you, sort of like riding a bike. Trust your instincts,” she said.
“Oh, I am,” he said. “Now, where have you been? I’ve tried calling your place for hours, and your cell phone kept going to your voice mail.”
“I was working and turned it off for a while,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“We just got into New York to get my things from the apartment, but I wanted you to be the first to know that—”
“Oh, no,” she said, cutting him off as she sat upright in her chair. “You and Amy aren’t pregnant, are you?”
There was total silence on the other end, then Quint said, “Not that I know of.”
“Then what is it?”
“Amy and I are going to live at the ranch.”
Megan wasn’t surprised by their decision to take over the ranch where she’d been brought up. “I thought you might.”
“I didn’t think you had any interest in taking it over.”
“I never even thought about it,” she said truthfully. “And I don’t think Ryan would go for the ranch life, anyway.”
“What would he have to do with it?” Quint asked abruptly.
She hadn’t meant to do this, but since the door was open, she plunged ahead. “We’re engaged.”
“Oh, Meggie,” he murmured, then she heard him taking a rough breath. “Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
“You love him?”
She knew he’d ask that. “Of course.”
“Then I won’t argue. So, when’s the big day?”
“We haven’t even started to figure out when. We’re both trying to stabilize our careers.”
“Now, that’s romantic,” Quint murmured.
She looked at the ring on her finger. “It’s perfect.”
“How about the folks?”
“I was going to tell them later on. I’ve got so much to do right now.”
“The San Francisco offices are busy?”
“Actually, I’m in Houston for a month of training and evaluation.”
That shocked him into silence for a moment. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming in? We could have stuck around for a few days,” he finally declared. “But then, we’ll be back in a few weeks.”
“Great, but for now this is all work,” she said. “Maybe next time.”
“What’s the evaluation for?”
“An opening up the ladder in contracts, incorporation and diversification. So I’m working on incorporation for part of LynTech. I think they want to make sure I can handle it, and I’m—”
“Hold it.” He cut her off. “I get the idea. You’re moving on up, aren’t you?”
“Hopefully.”
“And Ryan thinks this is…?” He let his voice trail off.
“Great. Wonderful. Fantastic.”
“Good for him,” her brother murmured, but didn’t sound as if he meant it. Then he shifted gears. “So, where are you staying?”
“At some private loft the company has wired to the office.”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’m not sure where it is.”
“I can tell you in just a minute.” She looked for the envelope Mr. Lawrence had given her earlier with the address, directions and two keys. She searched in her briefcase, then on the desk, but didn’t see the envelope anywhere. She pulled open the desk drawer. Nothing. “I can’t find the address or directions. But I’m heading there tonight. They already moved my things over. Listen, I need to get going.”
“You’re still at work?”
“I’m just leaving.”
“Damn, you’re as much of a workaholic as I used to be,” he said. “But if you’re serious about wanting this advancement, Zane Holden and I—”
“No, no, no,” she said quickly. “I don’t want you to talk to anyone about anything. I can do this, Quint.”
“Of course you can,” he said. “Old habits die hard. Being a big brother and all.”
“I know. But please, just don’t say anything to anyone about me being here, or mention that I’m your sister or anything. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said. “But—”
She cut him off. “Give Amy and the kids my love. And let me know when you’re moving onto the ranch.”
“You got it,” he said, and Megan ended the call.
She looked through her things one more time, then remembered where the envelope was. She’d left it in Mr. Lawrence’s office, on the desk. She’d put it down when she’d picked up more files he’d given her, and she didn’t remember picking it up again. Directions, keys and phone numbers were in it. “Damn it,” she muttered, glancing out the entry to her cubicle. Mr. Lawrence was gone, but she hoped to heck that he didn’t lock his office at night.
Seven o’clock. She just hoped her boss hadn’t yet gone to meet Abe Larson. She left everything on her desk and hurried through the quiet legal department, out to the main hallway, then down to his office. She tried the outer door, and it opened. Then she crossed the reception area, tried his private office door and exhaled in a rush when she found it unlocked, too.
She looked inside and saw the room was empty. Hesitating, she finally stepped into the darkly formal area done in cherry wood, brass and various shades of beige and gold. Turning on the light, she crossed to the massive desk, disappointed to find no envelope there, just papers, folders and books neatly stacked on the polished surface. She went behind it, then tried the top drawers, but they were all locked. She reached for a deep drawer on the side, pulled on the handle and silently slid it open.
She saw a correspondence file, a stack of company calendars, what looked like an unused day planner, and boxes of paper clips—lots and lots of boxes of paper clips. But no envelope belonging to her. She reached for the drawer on the other side and opened it. Books and papers and more paper clips. And sitting in one corner, a small bottle of very expensive scotch with a single shot glass beside it. Mr. Lawrence had his vices, she thought in surprise. Two low drawers were closed and locked.
She looked at the desktop again, then went around to the In and Out baskets at the front