But where he was concerned there was no other like her, none who made him hungry to see her again. It was probably bizarre that a man who had surrounded himself with beautiful models all his work life was now so captivated by the one who did not fit into that picture. But there you had it. Maybe because she was different, maybe because she was obviously out of her realm, he was intrigued. And he wanted to see her again.
It took another four days before he got any further news on his mystery woman but it was not encouraging. The staff member who had hired the agency to recruit the temps reported that all of them had collected their checks, all except one, and seeing that none of those who came in fit the description then the no-show had to be the girl he was looking for. The only problem was, the agency had a name but no address, phone number or e-mail address.
That made no sense to Reed. “Then how did she apply?” he asked Sharon when she came into his office and gave him the update.
She shrugged. “It happens. Sometimes the girls call in and ask for their names to be added to the list. The name is recorded and the girl is told to fill in her particulars when she gets to the venue. When you’re in a rush and you have hundreds of people calling in, it can happen.”
“Rubbish. Is this the kind of operation we’re running? This is not the Davidoff way.”
Sharon shook her head. “This has nothing to do with the Davidoff way. It’s the outside agency that gets the girls for the show. We can’t tell them how to run their business.”
“If they’re going to have any connection to Davidoff Fashions Inc., we can.” Reed pushed back his chair and stood up. “From here on, any agency we’re working with must have accurate personal information on anyone who’ll be working at our show, no matter what her role. If they can’t comply with that we’ll find another agency.”
Sharon gave a soft sigh. “I’m sure they’ll comply.” Then she tilted her head to one side. “So where do we go from here? Do you still want us to pursue your mystery woman?”
“No, never mind.” His tone was impatient, brusque even, but he would not apologize for it. He wasn’t liking this, not having his way. He’d failed to locate the girl and that annoyed him. He wasn’t used to failing.
But this would not end here. He’d left it to his staff to find the girl but now he would tackle the task himself. All he had to go on was a name, the name of the one girl who had not collected her pay – Golden Browne. And Reed had no doubt that he would find little Miss Golden Browne because if there was one thing he would never accept, it was failure.
CHAPTER THREE
The road surface was still wet as Golden pulled into the parking lot of Sunnybrook Nursing Home. They’d had a violent thunderstorm the night before which was unusual for the month of March but thankfully it did not last more than a few hours. Still, the windswept trees and the carpet of scattered leaves on the ground were ample evidence of the strength of the storm. She just hoped this wasn’t a sign of what was to come when the summer brought its own share of stormy weather. If there was one thing that made Golden tremble it was a thunder-rumbling, lightning-flashing summer storm.
But, trooper that it was, the sun peeped out from behind the gray clouds and now it was shining bright in the sky, putting Golden in a cheerful mood, just what she needed as she stepped inside the shadowy walls of Sunnybrook.
“A doozie last night, wasn’t it?” The receptionist greeted her with a smile that looked brilliant in her dark-skinned face.
“Terrible,” Golden said, nodding in agreement. “Let’s hope we see no more of that for the rest of the year.”
“I’m with you, hon.” She placed the register on the counter so Golden could sign in. “And Miss You-know-What has been asking for you. You’d better get up there before she sends out the troops.”
Golden only laughed then she waved her goodbye and headed for the elevator.
She’d been visiting the residents of the home for the past year, ever since she’d completed her stint as a student intern in the administrative office of the organization, assisting the marketing manager. They’d allowed her to visit with the elderly ladies and gentlemen who resided there and she’d grown close to a few of them, but one in particular – eighty-three year old Claire Bertlam, otherwise known among her fellow residents as Mrs. Crab.
The name said it all. Claire Bertlam was feisty and cantankerous and she was saucy with everyone, even the nurses who cared for her. The only person she hadn’t sliced with her razor-sharp words was Golden, to the bewilderment of everyone, including Golden. Claire seemed to have taken a liking to her, a phenomenon which could only be explained by Claire herself. The pity was, no-one dared ask her.
“Where is that child?”
Before Golden even got to her room she could hear Claire’s strident voice floating out into the hallway. Knowing that her friend was probably giving the nurse a hard time she quickened her pace. As soon as she got to the door she knocked and opened just in time to see Claire slapping the medicine tray out of the nurse’s hand, sending pills and their little paper receptacles flying.
“Claire, what are you doing?” Golden dashed across the room and knelt down to help the nurse whose face looked like the thunderstorm that had hit the night before. But who could blame her? Claire Bertlam would try the patience of Ghandi himself.
“Golden, my dear. There you are.” Claire’s wrinkled face broke into a smile and she opened her arms wide. “Come give me a hug.”
“Not yet, Claire. I have to help clean up the mess you made.” Golden was scolding her friend but she knew it made no difference to the old lady. She would continue to demand her own way no matter what anyone said. Only a miracle, or some twist of fate that could jerk her to her senses, would make her change.
After the nurse had left, grumbling under her breath, Golden bent over to receive Claire’s hug then took a seat beside her bed. “So what was that all about?” she asked as she smoothed the sheet covering Claire’s legs. “Got out on the wrong side of the bed today?”
Claire snorted. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Maybe if I could get up and around I wouldn’t have to be such a crabby old bitch.”