Read Online My Man Pendleton by Elizabeth Bevarly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Bevarly
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary, Man-Woman Relationships, Inheritance and succession, Kentucky, Runaway Adults
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Beatrice, his secretary, called out. "Are you still here?"
He opened the door to find her standing on the other side, her own coat buttoned up to her numerous chins, obviously on her way out, too. Beatrice had come with his office, having worked for Hensley's for longer than he himself had been alive. In spite of that, she left quite a lot to be desired in a secretary. He'd discovered that on his first day of work, when she couldn't seem to remember even the most rudimentary of company policies. Like, for instance, where they kept the microwave popcorn.
"I really apologize," she said, "but this arrived for you this morning while you were in your meeting with Mr. McClellan, and I just now realized I forgot to give it to you." She extended a cardboard overnight mailer. "I am so sorry. I hope it wasn't anything too important."
Actually, he thought, one might assume that the words EXTREMELY URGENT, in big red capital letters, emblazoned on both the front and back of the envelope, might have alerted her that there was some degree of importance attached to its delivery. But then, hey, that was just Pendleton—always assuming the obvious.
So all he said was, "Thank you, Beatrice. I'm sure it will be fine."
She smiled feebly, surrendered the overnight mailer, then spun around and fled without another word. When he glanced down to open it, he noted that instead of having a fancy, embossed label, the mailer had been addressed by hand and embellished by the word CONFIDENTIAL. Addressed by a bold, feminine hand, too, if he wasn't mistaken, he noted further, something that made a strange feeling of dread shimmy right down his spine.
Hastily, he tugged the plastic thread on the back and pulled the sides of the mailer open wide. For a moment, he thought it was empty. Then he tipped it upside down and shook it once, and a tiny bit of cardboard color came fluttering out, tumbling end over end to land on the pale peach carpet. He bent over to inspect it, for some reason reluctant to pick it up. Especially when he realized it was a postcard.
Of a beach.
Probably the Caribbean .
Dread filled him again as he snatched it up and flipped it over, only to find on the other side the same bold feminine handwriting that had appeared on the mailer.
Hi, Pendleton! the words inscribed there read. Having a great time! Wish you were here! Love, Kit.
For long moments he only stared at those words, reading them over and over and over. And then his gaze fell on the fine print in the lower left-hand corner of the postcard. Sunset at
Veranda
Bay
. St. John , U.S. Virgin Islands .
And all he could think was, Oh, no. Don't make it easy. Please, whatever you do, don't make this easy for me.
Just to reassure himself, Pendleton turned the overnight mailer to the address side and checked the postmark.
Veranda
Bay
. St. John . U.S. Virgin Islands .
Well, my goodness, hadn't Kit been just too, too clever to realize in advance that her father would be sending him to retrieve her from her current tropical locale. Why did he suddenly get the feeling that he was some pinstriped amoeba under a big, karmic microscope, and that McClellan, Sr. was the one rolling him in and out of focus?
"Dammit," he hissed under his breath.
He tucked the postcard into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, and withdrew the much-folded list of travel agencies from his shirt pocket. Then he forced his feet to move forward, tossing the latter into Beatrice's trash can as he passed it. Hey, he could make his own travel arrangements. He only wished he knew exactly what he was headed into.
----
Chapter 5
« ^ »
H olt McClellan, Jr. folded himself into the big, executive chair behind his big, executive desk and gazed morosely at the big, executive pile of papers that required his immediate attention. Another day, another fifty-five hundred dollars, he thought blandly. In gross profit, anyway. All in all, life didn't get much better than this, right?
Of course, if Kit stayed in
He opened the door to find her standing on the other side, her own coat buttoned up to her numerous chins, obviously on her way out, too. Beatrice had come with his office, having worked for Hensley's for longer than he himself had been alive. In spite of that, she left quite a lot to be desired in a secretary. He'd discovered that on his first day of work, when she couldn't seem to remember even the most rudimentary of company policies. Like, for instance, where they kept the microwave popcorn.
"I really apologize," she said, "but this arrived for you this morning while you were in your meeting with Mr. McClellan, and I just now realized I forgot to give it to you." She extended a cardboard overnight mailer. "I am so sorry. I hope it wasn't anything too important."
Actually, he thought, one might assume that the words EXTREMELY URGENT, in big red capital letters, emblazoned on both the front and back of the envelope, might have alerted her that there was some degree of importance attached to its delivery. But then, hey, that was just Pendleton—always assuming the obvious.
So all he said was, "Thank you, Beatrice. I'm sure it will be fine."
She smiled feebly, surrendered the overnight mailer, then spun around and fled without another word. When he glanced down to open it, he noted that instead of having a fancy, embossed label, the mailer had been addressed by hand and embellished by the word CONFIDENTIAL. Addressed by a bold, feminine hand, too, if he wasn't mistaken, he noted further, something that made a strange feeling of dread shimmy right down his spine.
Hastily, he tugged the plastic thread on the back and pulled the sides of the mailer open wide. For a moment, he thought it was empty. Then he tipped it upside down and shook it once, and a tiny bit of cardboard color came fluttering out, tumbling end over end to land on the pale peach carpet. He bent over to inspect it, for some reason reluctant to pick it up. Especially when he realized it was a postcard.
Of a beach.
Probably the Caribbean .
Dread filled him again as he snatched it up and flipped it over, only to find on the other side the same bold feminine handwriting that had appeared on the mailer.
Hi, Pendleton! the words inscribed there read. Having a great time! Wish you were here! Love, Kit.
For long moments he only stared at those words, reading them over and over and over. And then his gaze fell on the fine print in the lower left-hand corner of the postcard. Sunset at
Veranda
Bay
. St. John , U.S. Virgin Islands .
And all he could think was, Oh, no. Don't make it easy. Please, whatever you do, don't make this easy for me.
Just to reassure himself, Pendleton turned the overnight mailer to the address side and checked the postmark.
Veranda
Bay
. St. John . U.S. Virgin Islands .
Well, my goodness, hadn't Kit been just too, too clever to realize in advance that her father would be sending him to retrieve her from her current tropical locale. Why did he suddenly get the feeling that he was some pinstriped amoeba under a big, karmic microscope, and that McClellan, Sr. was the one rolling him in and out of focus?
"Dammit," he hissed under his breath.
He tucked the postcard into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, and withdrew the much-folded list of travel agencies from his shirt pocket. Then he forced his feet to move forward, tossing the latter into Beatrice's trash can as he passed it. Hey, he could make his own travel arrangements. He only wished he knew exactly what he was headed into.
----
Chapter 5
« ^ »
H olt McClellan, Jr. folded himself into the big, executive chair behind his big, executive desk and gazed morosely at the big, executive pile of papers that required his immediate attention. Another day, another fifty-five hundred dollars, he thought blandly. In gross profit, anyway. All in all, life didn't get much better than this, right?
Of course, if Kit stayed in
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