C.J. Carmichael - Receptionist Under Cover

“And they are?”

She pulled a sheet of paper from her bag and read out the list. “Sunshine Village at Banff, the Lake Louise ski hill or the Kicking Horse Resort in Golden.”

“I’ve heard of all of those.” His forehead knotted as he seemed to consider something. “In fact, I made some notes a few years ago when I was considering a book on ski adventures in the Canadian Rockies. And you’re sure Stephen will be at one of those three places?”

“Pretty sure. The only other major ski hill in Canada is Whistler, but Stephen would have flown into Vancouver if he wanted to find a job at that resort.”

True enough. “So what happens next? Have you tried phoning those resorts?”

“I’ve called, but so far I haven’t had any luck. It turns out that they do a lot of hiring at the beginning of November. They won’t have their full complement of employees entered into their systems for a few weeks yet.”

“Hell.” He shifted impatiently in his seat.

The server came with her dinner, and she picked up her fork. “Here’s my recommendation. We wait fourteen days, and then I try calling the resorts again.”

“That’s too long,” he said without even considering it. “You need to fly up there and look for him in person.”

“Me? Fly to Canada?” Too late, Nadine realized she should have expected the suggestion. She could tell Patrick wasn’t a patient man. And finding his son was clearly very important to him.

“I can’t wait two more weeks to find him.”

“We could hire an investigator in Calgary to follow this up,” she suggested.

Patrick frowned. “I’m not keen on working with someone I haven’t met with face-to-face.”

She tried to think of a third option, but couldn’t. Maybe she could dissuade him if she talked dollars. “It will be expensive. Air flights, hotels, rental cars. Plus I’d have to charge for meals, on top of my regular hourly fee.”

“Obviously the retainer I paid you won’t be nearly enough. I can write you another check right now.” He pulled out a blank check from his wallet. She waited while he filled it out, then passed it to her.

Five thousand dollars. Holy crap. “This should cover it.” She stared at the check, realizing she was out of excuses now. She had to take a trip to Canada—but how was she going to do that? She’d taken on this case intending to wrap it up while still carrying on with her usual receptionist duties.

Nadine swallowed. She’d have to think of something to tell the partners. “Right. Well, then. I guess I’m going to Canada.”

Patrick rubbed his chin. “Maybe we should both go.”

“Pardon me? But I thought you had a book due?”

“I can write just as well on the plane and in a hotel room in the Rockies as I can here in my apartment. If I travel with you, then I’ll be right there to meet Stephen, as soon as you find him.”

Oh, Lord, no. This job was going to be difficult enough, without having the client traveling with her—seeing all her mistakes firsthand.

“I’ll call you as soon as I find him. You can catch the very next plane—”

“Calgary’s on the other side of the continent. Even if I do manage to book the next available flight, I’ll still lose a day to travel. And I know I’ll be out of my mind with nerves the whole time. No. I really think this plan is the best. Besides, while I’m there, I can see if there’s any potential for a book on the Canadian Rockies.”

Nadine couldn’t think of anything to say that would dissuade him.

With her head bowed over the dinner she no longer had any interest in eating, she tried to sneak a look at him. But she found him staring at her. His forehead was lined, his eyes appeared anxious. To her overwrought imagination, it seemed he was wondering if he’d made a mistake hiring her.

She wouldn’t blame him, because she was wondering the same thing.

THE NEXT MORNING, NADINE’S phone rang before it was light. She pulled herself out of her warm bedding and picked up the receiver she kept by her bed. Her mother loved calling her early on the weekend.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Ahh—this is Patrick O’Neil. I was trying to reach Nadine Kimble.”

Adrenaline pumped through her, waking her more effectively than any alarm clock. “This is Nadine.”

She swung her feet to the wool rug, still holding the receiver to her ear.

Patrick O’Neil. She’d given him her home number last night so he could call after he’d made their travel arrangements. But she hadn’t expected to hear from him this early. According to the digital display on the built-in media center across the room, it wasn’t even eight.

“I managed to get two tickets on a ten o’clock flight. I hope that leaves you enough time to pack.”

“Ten o’clock this evening? It’ll be tight, but I should be able to manage.”

“Ten o’clock this morning.”

Good Lord. Was he serious?

“I can arrange for a limo to pick you up in an hour. Is that enough time?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

He was silent for a bit, then said, “I thought we agreed I would go for the first available flight?”

“Yes. But—”

“As long as you have your credit card and your passport, you’ll be fine.”

Holy crap. Adrenaline surging, Nadine ran to the bathroom and checked her hair. It needed washing, but she would never have time to dry it properly. She tried to remember where she’d put her passport after her last international trip to…

She thought it had been Belize. But it might have been that shopping trip to Paris.

“You really don’t waste time, do you?” she said, switching the phone to Speaker so she could squeeze toothpaste on her brush.

“I figured the faster we got on this the better.”

Sure. But giving her one hour notice? She started thinking of all the things she would need. A trip to Canada meant warm coats, boots and bulky sweaters.

“Oh, and try to limit your luggage to carry-on. We have to make a connection in Toronto and the timing is kind of tight.”

Hell.

“I have everything organized. All I need from you is your address.”

So he could pick her up in the limo. Only, she couldn’t let him do that. Her Upper East Side address would be sure to lead to questions she didn’t want to answer.

“I need to get my files from the office. How about you pick me up there?”

Thinking of all she had to do, in one short hour, made Nadine’s stomach swirl.

Find her ID, pack her bag, cancel Sunday dinner with her parents, let the people at the office know she was going away for a few days….

Oh, boy. That was going to be the hardest. Maybe she should just phone the office number and leave a message. But that would give Lindsay and Nathan zero notice that she wasn’t going to be at work on Monday.

After a quick shower, Nadine dressed in airplane clothes—no metal zippers, or belts, shoes that slipped off easily, layers in case the plane was too hot or too cold.

Who should she call—Nathan or Lindsay? She would feel extra guilty lying to Nathan, he was such a straight arrow himself. But Lindsay would give her a grilling, and she didn’t have time to come up with a great cover story.

In the end, she dialed the number for Nathan’s cell phone, because she was certain that he would accept her “need to go away for a few days on a personal matter” without any questions.

As she waited for him to answer—or, better yet, to be diverted to his message service—she started searching through her underwear drawer for her passport.

While she was there, she might as well pack her underwear, too.

Suddenly she heard Lindsay speaking. “Fox here.”

“Oh, hi, Lindsay. I thought I was calling Nathan.”