Francis tugged at the hem of her dress as she walked to her appointment. She wasn't late, but she was rushing and didn't like the fact that she might be flushed when she got there. She was on her way to interview the owner of the company that had recently painted her house. She often got home before the men finished for the day and while they worked they spoke so highly of their boss that she decided to recommend him for the Inspiring Leader award given out at the annual fundraising gala for a charity she volunteered with. Francis knew that she should have met with the owner before nominating his company, but she had already heard so much from his employees that she felt like this meeting was just a formality. She smiled as she remembered Tom's story about the time "the boss man" had shown up at the hospital the night his son was having emergency surgery, to make sure that Tom, who hadn't been with the company long, didn't have to worry about the hospital bill, that they would work together to pay it off. And Russell told her about the faith their boss had in his workers and the loyalty and hard work they gave back to him. The sincerity in the men's voices was obvious as they spoke of their boss, and she was looking forward to meeting him.
Up ahead she saw the sign for Castle Homes Painting and went over the questions she had prepared. As the nominator, she had a form from the charity to complete, as well as some questions she had come up with. She would be the one introducing him at the gala and while envisioned a saint based on what she had heard, it was a little disconcerting that she didn't even know his name.
As she walked into the building, Francis was greeted by an office that exuded casual efficiency. The secretary was no showpiece, but her desk was well organized and she greeted Francis in a friendly manner, telling her that John was on a call, but should be free to speak with her in a moment, if she cared to have a seat while she waited.
Francis had just sat down when the intercom on the desk buzzed and she was ushered into the office. After that everything became a blur because there, seated behind the desk, was Jonny Castle.
Somewhere in her brain she took note of the changes in his appearance, the hair that was shorter than before and the dictates of fashion, yet suited him, the new lines beside his eyes and mouth that took nothing away from his beauty, and the look of shock on his face as he stared at her, speechless. He was heavier now, but not fat, more like he had filled out, just solid masculinity.
She must have looked like she was about to faint because suddenly he sprang up from his desk and rushed to take her arm.
"Don't touch me!" she cried, drawing a curious glance from the secretary who looked back at her through the open doorway. His fingers had only just brushed her arm, yet she felt seared to her core by them and quickly backed away.
"I'm sorry Baby," he said softly. "I didn't know this meeting was with you. I wasn't given a name. Please sit down before you pass out."
He looked uncomfortable as she stared at him, the empty feeling in her stomach growing with each passing moment. This wasn't fair, she had exercised his presence from her life. She had finally stopped having the dreams that she couldn't remember but woke from aching inside and tasting him.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You look like you need a drink. I know I do." And with that, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses that he proceeded to fill.
Francis took the whiskey, something she normally hated, and downed it, hoping to fill the void and push back her confusion. Best to just get this over with. Act like she didn't know him at all. Just go through the questions on the damn questionnaire. Why hadn't she found out a little more about this man before she had nominated him?
"Hello, my name is Francis Houseman and I am here because I have nominated you for the..."
"I know who you are, Francis," he interrupted, pausing at her name. "Are you living here in New York? Are you married?"
She bristled at that. He didn't have a right to ask that question. She didn't see a ring on his finger but forced herself to stop thinking about that. Get through the questions and get out.
"Recently some of your men painted my home and I was so impressed by the stories they told me about their employer," she intoned woodenly, "that I nominated you for the Inspiring Leader award presented every year by the charity Positive Work. They have given me a questionnaire to complete that will be submitted to the judging panel. I explained this all to your secretary when I called to set this up and sent a brochure about the award."
"She told me," he said, settling down in his seat, seeming to realize that this was the safest place for the conversation to go right now. "Ask me whatever you like."
Her eyes jumped to his for a moment, before returning to the page.
"How long have you run Castle Homes?" she asked. "What type of employer do you aspire to be?" Without looking up from the page she recorded his responses, learning that he had started his company four years ago, taking a chance on a ragtag group of guys that he could hardly pay, turning it into a thriving business by putting his workers first. She could hear the pride and sincerity in his voice as he warmed up to the topic, and somewhere inside she knew that was what he had always been capable of, but she didn't want to think about that right now.
"Thank you," she said once she had completed her questions. "I am sure the committee will be most impressed. Thank you for your time and good luck." As she spoke, she stood up, already walking out the door, not bothering to put away the paper and pen she clutched in her hands.
"Francis, wait!" she heard as she walked out. She didn't turn back. She knew that she had to walk away.