opened his attaché case again and removed a writing pad and pen. He seated himself on the couch. “Now, what points do you want to have in the agreement?”
It was another half hour before Jared prepared to leave the Donaldson house. They each had a list of the points they had agreed to. He had offered to have his attorney draw up the letter of agreement, but she had insisted she wanted her attorney to do it. The agreement would take effect on Monday. That would give him four days to devise a work schedule for her and to figure out exactly what he would be having her do.
A little twinge of delight danced inside him as he walked to his car. She could have her attorney draw up the agreement, but as long as it followed the parameters they had agreed to he would be able to give her a whole list of menial tasks and mundane little chores.
Jared climbed into his car, backed out of her driveway, then drove down the street. He had many legitimate projects where he could use the help of a good assistant during the course of the summer, not the least of which was the community center building currently under construction, but could he really trust her to handle confidential business matters for him? To work with his best interests in mind? He wished he could, but he was afraid to take that chance. She had already made it clear the Stevens–Donaldson feud was prominent in her thinking. So he would confine her work to unimportant jobs that did not compromise his business interests or jeopardize any important projects.
He continued to turn the possibilities over in his mind as he drove home. Once again a sense of upheaval in his life burrowed its way into his consciousness, leaving him a little bit uneasy and very uncertain about what the next three months would bring.
Kim stared at the clothes she had brought with her from her apartment in San Francisco. She tried to determine what would be appropriate to wear her first day of work at Jared’s summer office. She glanced at the clock next to the bed—6:30 a.m. A touch of irritation shoved at her, just as it had for the past few days. She had two hours of freedom left, then her contracted work schedule would deprive her of her summer.
She had spent the last three days clearing out some of her father’s belongings—donating his clothes to a homeless shelter, examining his financial records in more detail, then contacting his creditors about his financial obligations. She determined what she wanted to keep and what she would sell, obtained an appraisal of his belongings and listed his house with a real estate agent. The only things she had not inspected were several file folders containing miscellaneous papers. The pressing business matters of her father’s estate had been attended to for the time being. She placed the file folders in a box and set it aside. She would look at the papers some other time.
Her attorney, Gary Parker, had presented her with the letter of agreement according to the points she and Jared had previously established. They had both signed it. And now there was nothing left to do except show up at Jared’s summer office at the Stevens family compound. A jitter of anxiety confirmed that she was far from comfortable about what she had agreed to. She slowly shook her head. It was too late to back out, especially with the huge debt looming over her.
She finally chose a casual outfit of slacks, a simple pullover and sandals. She tried to eat some breakfast, but a nervous energy insisted on twisting her stomach into knots. She settled for some coffee, orange juice and an English muffin, then drove the short distance to the Stevens family compound and Jared’s office.
Kim pulled up to the curb across the street from the large estate. She sat in her car staring at the massive two-story house. A compendium of thoughts and emotions swirled inside her, leaving a very uneasy sensation in its wake. This was the land that Jared’s grandfather, Victor Stevens, had cheated her grandfather, George Donaldson, out of in a dishonest poker game. It was the single incident that had set her grandfather against Jared’s grandfather, which had started the Stevens–Donaldson feud. An intense wave of trepidation left her unsettled.
Kim had never been on the property, never passed through the upright bars of the iron gate that led to the large house behind the high brick wall. The one-hundred-acre land parcel, which fronted the ocean, had been the single most prized possession of her grandfather and the central core of his financial worth. The loss of the land broke him both financially and in spirit. He had made so many plans for the land, plans he knew would end up bringing him a fortune. Instead, Victor Stevens used the ill-gotten land to elevate the already significant Stevens family fortune to new heights.
All her life she had heard about the land swindle and how Victor Stevens had ruined her grandfather, how his son, Ron Stevens, had carried on the Stevens family tradition of trying to cheat the Donaldsons. She never understood why her father had continued to do business with Ron Stevens. Her mother had been noncommittal about it, but her father refused to let the subject drop. Kim had lived with all the anger and resentment her father carried around with him, all the stress his attitudes brought into the house. She had been relieved to escape the tension when she went to college and finally moved to San Francisco when she procured her teaching job.
She stared through the open gates at the large house. The estate covered a mere two acres of the original one-hundred-acre property but had its own private beach and boat dock. The rest of the land had been sold to developers for several million dollars, money that should have been in her family, not the already wealthy Stevens family. And now she was in the uncomfortable position of working for Jared Stevens, helping him propel Stevens Enterprises toward even greater financial success.
She set her jaw in determination. She needed to honor the terms of the letter of agreement and satisfy her father’s financial obligation to Stevens Enterprises, but there was nothing that said she needed to be pleasant or amiable around Jared. She put her car in gear, drove through the gate and up the long driveway.
The closer she got to the imposing structure, the more her confidence drained away until it had been replaced by rampaging anxiety. By the time she had parked in front of the large double door, she needed to force herself out of the car. She took a steadying breath and climbed the three steps to the porch. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the doorbell.
A moment later the door swung open and a man in his late fifties dressed in bib overalls and an old plaid shirt, greeted her. “You Miz Donaldson?”
“Yes.”
He stood aside and motioned her in. “I’m Fred Kemper, the estate caretaker. Jared’s expectin’ you.” He started down a long hallway indicating that she should follow him.
She glanced through the archway from the entry foyer into a large, tastefully and expensively decorated living room with a cathedral ceiling, a loft that ran around three sides and a large fireplace. Beyond that was a formal dining room with a crystal chandelier. She quickly counted the chairs around the table—twenty of them. She had never seen a dining table of that size in a private home.
Everything spoke of wealth, elegance and prestige. A jolt of resentment swept through her, followed by a wave of anger. This should have belonged to her family. It should have been her grandfather’s and then her father’s. It would have given her mother an easier life, making the few years she’d had much more comfortable, and would probably have allowed her father to live longer than his fifty-five years. But it had not been so. Victor Stevens had taken that option away from her family when he swindled her grandfather out of the land.
“This way.”
Fred’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts. She followed him down the hallway that ran along the inside of the front wall of the house, then through a door into what was obviously a much newer area than the rest of the house. Suddenly she found herself standing in the middle of an office complex.
“Jared will be right
