her mistake promptly. In a gentlemanly fashion, he’d accepted her apology and seemed to harbor her no ill will.
“What do I think?” Mr. Corbin’s question jolted her back to the present. “I’ve seen enough to warrant a trial.” He shifted his focus from Flynt to her. “I’d like you to complete a drawing for us, Miss Sinclair. I want to see what you can do when the pressure’s on.”
“That’s understandable. I’ll do whatever you’d like.”
The skeptical manager pinned her with an intense gaze. “I’m willing to let you finish the interview process since Flynt has vouched for you, but I believe having a woman working here could invite trouble. What do you think the men will do when you walk in there?” He inclined his head toward a large drafting room visible through the office’s side window. “They’ll take their eyes off their boards and clap them on you, that’s what.”
She pasted on her most reassuring smile. “You needn’t concern yourself with that. I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with men’s stares and attitudes.” More than he could possibly imagine. “I can handle myself.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the deadlines we have to meet. The directors want to see progress. I can’t afford any slowdowns.”
Flynt intervened once again. “You’re right, Corby. Having a woman on the team will change things, but change can bring about improvements.”
While she appreciated Flynt’s support, the man himself was a puzzle. One minute he addressed her as a business associate, and the next his gaze roved over her with what she could only describe as attraction. Or was it simply admiration? Yes, that must be it.
Silence hung in the air until Flynt broke it. “My men are likely to work harder to impress Jessie.”
Corby scoffed. “I reckon the fellows will be more interested in her than they are in their work. Mark my words. They’ll produce fewer drawings because of her. Not more.” He shifted his attention to Jessie. “Why did you become a draftsman—draftswoman, anyhow? It’s not...normal.”
She’d fielded that question more times than she could count. “Few men are willing to believe a woman desires to do anything other than bear children, fix meals and wash clothes. But we’re capable of more than that, although few of us are given the opportunity. Be that as it may, I have nothing but respect for the women who’ve chosen marriage and motherhood.”
With her questionable past, she couldn’t aspire to either, no matter how much the idea of being loved and loving someone in return appealed to her. “Because I have neither a husband nor children, I’m forced to provide for myself, just as you are. I have an affinity for arithmetic and have found a profession that utilizes my skills. I happen to enjoy it, too.”
Mr. Corbin scowled. “You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”
She chose her words carefully. “I don’t stand in protest lines, no, but I am sympathetic to the plight of women. Perhaps one day our voices will be heard. In the meantime, I’m content to do my job to the best of my ability.”
“Good. It sounds like you know your place.”
Jessie bit back a sharp retort. Traditionally minded men such as Mr. Corbin couldn’t be won over with mere words. She needed to show him what she could do. “I’m ready to move on to the next stage of the interview, sir.”
Mr. Corbin shook his head. If Jessie wasn’t mistaken, he was smiling, although with that enormous handlebar mustache hiding his upper lip, she couldn’t be sure. “You’re certainly eager, young lady. I’ll grant you that. Flynt can take you out and get you started on a drawing. He’ll oversee your work, but the final decision is mine.”
Jessie accompanied Flynt to the rectangular drafting room. Four identical drafting tables faced a bank of large windows on the west side of the room. Four heads turned toward her, curiosity evident in each face.
Flynt introduced her to his team, once again the professional engineer. “Gentlemen, this is Miss Jessica Sinclair. She’s going to complete a drawing for me.”
She smiled and nodded a greeting at each of the young men in turn. She received two answering smiles and two frowns.
A sandy-haired fellow at the drafting table farthest from her jumped off his stool and approached. “Welcome, Miss Sinclair. It’s not every day we welcome a fine lady like you into the Den.”
“The Den? Is that what you call your drawing office?”
“Yup. The mine over yonder is called Coon Hollow.” The draftsman, a fence post of a fellow who looked all of nineteen, inclined his head toward the windowless eastern wall. “Since raccoons spend a good part of their year holed up in dens like we do in our office, we fellows dubbed this the Den.”
“Well, I’m honored to be in your Den and am pleased to meet you, Mr....?”
“My name’s Rufus Rawlings, but everyone calls me Trace on account of I do nothing but tracings most of the time. Every now and then Flynt lets me draw something on my own, though.”
As the lone woman in a man’s world, she’d learned long ago to cultivate all the friendships she could. “I spent a year doing the same. Tracings are an essential contribution to any engineering firm. Without them, valuable information could be lost if an original were to get damaged.”
Trace turned to his colleagues with a mile-wide smile on his face. “Did you hear that, fellows? My tracings are ‘essential contributions.’”
The dour draftsman at the table beside Trace’s grumbled. “Just what we need. Trace all puffed up.”
“That’s enough, Arnold.” Flynt returned his attention to Trace. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but those tracings won’t get done if you’re standing here talking.”
“Right, sir. I’ll get to work on my— What were they called again? Oh, yes. My ‘essential contributions.’” He grinned at Jessie and returned to his board.
“Come, Jessie.” Flynt held out a hand toward a magnificent drafting table at the front of the room, set apart from the others. “I’ll get you started.”
She followed, speaking in a low voice. “Trace is certainly enthusiastic, isn’t he?”
“I could give the lad more interesting assignments if he weren’t so slow and meticulous, but he lacks the confidence that comes with experience.” Flynt paused and pulled a sheet of paper from one of the drafting cabinets running down the center of the room.
“And yet you’ve kept him on?”
“I’m all for giving a man an opportunity to prove himself. Or a woman.” He sent her a sidelong glance—and a warm smile that transformed him from simply good-looking to delightfully handsome.
No. She mustn’t allow herself to notice such things. Her success depended on keeping a level head and doing exceptional work. In order to be accepted, she had to perform better and faster than the men in the office. At the same time, she couldn’t say or do anything that could be perceived as a threat to them and their positions. She often felt like she was teetering on a tightrope high above the earth, with her male colleagues below her hoping she would come crashing down.
