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Chapter One
Cath Norris came out of the BART station into the pouring rain. The gusting wind made using an umbrella impossible. She bent her head and began walking up Montgomery Street. Her cross trainers were getting wet, but better than soaking the high heels, which she carried in her tote bag. Her hair would be a mess, curls everywhere. But not to be helped, it was the least of her worries.
San Francisco was rarely rainy in late October and today had to be the exception.
She wished it was sunny—or at least dry. She was coming down with the flu. Walking in the rain would certainly do nothing to help.
Bad things came in threes, she mused. First her sister’s call this weekend to jubilantly share the news she was expecting another baby.
Cath tried to rejoice with her sister, but without the chance of having a baby herself, each time that she had to pretend it didn’t matter, it got harder.
Then—the flu. She was usually healthy, rarely even getting a cold during the winter. She so did not need this.
Now hurrying through the rain to get to work in order to meet the new man who was taking charge of the company today was about the last straw. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep.
She reached the cavernous lobby of the high-rise office building. Entering, she shook as much of the water as she could from her raincoat and hair before getting on one of the express elevators. She hoped there’d be time to dry her hair before the meeting. The natural curls always dominated in damp weather.
She no sooner stepped off on her floor than her colleague, and friend, Sophie accosted her.
“You look terrible,” she said, grabbing Cath’s arm and hurrying her along to the ladies room. Once safely inside, Cath peered at her reflection in the mirror. She looked worse than she felt, if that was possible. Pale with wet hanks of hair framing her face, she totally looked like she had the flu.
“Today’s the day we finally meet the new boss, you’re certain to make an impression,” Sophie teased. “Hurry up. He’s called for a meeting of department heads at nine.”
“I feel sick as a dog,” Cath said, slipping off her cross trainers. “I think it’s the flu. I’ve been sick all weekend and wouldn’t have come in today if the new CEO wasn’t starting. Just when I need to make a good impression if I want that promotion.”
“I thought Mr. Deerfield said it was in the bag,” said Sophie, taking the tote and reaching for Cath’s high heels.
The rain left her stockings wet, but they would dry soon enough. She took the offered heels, tossing her wet raincoat over one of the stall doors, letting it drip onto the tile floor. Better here than in her office.
Once she was standing in her shoes, she took her comb from her bag and began to pull it through her hair confining the unruly curls as best she could, anchoring them at her nape. This was not the way she normally wore it but a riot of damp curls was not going to win her any points with the new boss.
What else could go wrong today?
Sophie checked her watch.
“We have five minutes to get into the conference room,” she said. “I don’t want to be late to the first meeting he’s called.”
Cath checked one more time in the mirror. She looked as professional as possible, given the circumstances. She pinched her cheeks to get some color into her face, double-checked her lipstick and turned to her friend.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She hoped she’d be able to sit through the meeting. Right now all she wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep.
Walking down the long hall she felt the suppressed excitement. Everyone knew Mr. Deerfield was retiring. The Board of Directors had selected a new chief executive—but kept all information quiet lest the competition heard about it before they were ready with their announcement. Even the top level of management of Signals, Inc. didn’t know who would be the new CEO.
Rumors abounded over the last few weeks that he planned to make a clean sweep of the current managers and directors and bring in his own people. Of course that kind of rumor went around every time a new man took charge. Sometimes it was even true.
In passing the employee’s lounge, Cath dashed in to get a cup of tea. She hadn’t felt up to eating anything for breakfast so needed a jolt of caffeine to keep going. If at all possible, once the initial meeting was finished, she’d go home and crawl back into bed. She was rarely sick and couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so wonky. She hoped the tea would settle her stomach.
Entering the conference room a couple of moments later she immediately looked at the head of the room. Anthony Deerfield was talking with a man who had his back toward the gathering. The new CEO obviously. She couldn’t tell much from that view—he was tall, had dark hair with no gray apparent and wide shoulders. For a moment she thought there was something familiar about him. But no one even knew the name of the new man, the secrecy surrounding his appointment has been tightly capped.
He obviously wasn’t as old as Mr. Deerfield, not if that black hair was any indication.
Cath glanced around, recognizing all the senior management of the home office. Slipping into the seat next to Sophie, she sipped the warm tea, wishing she was still in bed. How long was this going to take?
Glancing around at the others, she picked up on the tension in the room. She knew they all had questions and concerns.
After her conversation with Mr. Deerfield last Friday, however, she wasn’t as nervous as she might have been. He assured her that her promotion was in the bag.
By January she would be in her new position as director of the European marketplace, headquartered in Brussels. She could hardly wait.
