Logical young man with an open mind and active imagination wanted for highly unusual but financially rewarding career opportunity. Some risk involved. Background in mathematics and fantastic literature advised.
Nowhere in the ad was there any mention of the advertiser’s name or the exact nature of the job. Still, the clipping did provide the address of a major office building in the Chicago financial district and a suite number. And the high-rent location indicated that the position wasn’t in sales or telephone solicitation.
At twenty-seven. Jack was willing to gamble. After nine years of college, he wanted out. Four years spent earning his bachelor’s degree, two for his master’s, and three more towards his Ph.D. had finally caught up with him. He wanted nothing more than to earn a living in the real world. It was time to break away from university life. Unfortunately, getting a job was proving more difficult than he had imagined.
To his dismay, he found that advanced degrees in pure mathematics meant nothing to most employers. Worse, several companies made it exceedingly clear they couldn’t hire him because of his education. According to one painfully honest recruiter, he was overqualified for any entry-level position. Even worse, his advanced degrees could intimidate the other workers.
It was the nineties version of the old paradox of jobs needing experience and vice versa. Now it featured advanced degrees against entry-level positions. The better educated you were, the less chance you had of finding work. In any case, it meant Jack was out of luck.
Weeks of searching for employment had left Jack frustrated and depressed. All his years in graduate school seemed wasted. None of his course work had prepared him for the harsh realities of the everyday world. The only jobs readily available were at fast-food joints, working a cash register and making change.
The spring semester was almost at an end. Over a month ago, Jack had informed his faculty advisor that he did not plan on returning to the university in the fall. Committed to earning a living, after three weeks of searching he was running out of options.
If nothing turned up soon, he would be forced to move back to the East Coast and work in the family import-export business. For that, he didn’t need a college degree. Especially one in advanced mathematics and logic. He knew that for the next twenty years, his father would remind him of that fact whenever possible. As would his mother. And his brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, first, second, and third cousins, all who labored for the Collins consortium.
His relatives never understood why he left home to attend college in Chicago. There was no way Jack could tell them of his need to get away from his close-knit family and make a name for himself in the world. He wanted his own identity, his own life, his own successes to enjoy. Returning to the family business after all these years of school would be admitting defeat. And Jack wasn’t ready yet to surrender his independence.
The elevator door slid open, breaking his train of thought. Mentally crossing his fingers, Jack marched into the deserted landing. There were only eight offices on the floor. The one he wanted was at the end of the hallway to the right.
Jack paused a second to straighten his tie and push back his hair with his hands. Six feet tall, slender, with pleasant features and a ready smile, he was better looking than he realized. Gathering his courage, he proceeded down the corridor.
The frosted glass door proclaimed Ambrose Ltd., Investments in bold black letters. Etched underneath was the saying, “We Guarantee Your Futures.” Jack grimaced in disgust, his high hopes plummeting. He knew nothing about the commodities and futures market. Another opportunity doomed before it started.
For an instant, he considered just turning around and leaving, not bothering to waste his and the interviewer’s time. Then, with a heavy sigh, he straightened his tie, threw back his shoulders, and put his hand on the doorknob. No matter how slim the chance, he had to make the effort. Otherwise, it was the import-export business, and his relatives. Resolutely, he pushed open the door and stepped into the office.
The room surprised him. Instead of being filled with massive wood and leather furniture, bustling executives, and a constant din, the reception area was almost empty and absolutely quiet. A few chairs pressed up against the side walls. At the far end of the room, a young woman, engrossed in a paperback, sat reading behind an immense desk cluttered with papers. Beyond her was a solitary door leading to an inner sanctum.
The girl glanced up for a second as Jack approached, then plunged back into her novel. “Be with you in a sec,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “As soon as I finish the page.”
Shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other, Roger took advantage of the time to stare at the receptionist. She was stunning, and well worth a second look.
The word “elfin” immediately came to mind. The girl had incredibly delicate features, narrow cheekbones, and long upward-sweeping eyebrows. She wore no makeup and needed none.
Her nose was best described as pixieish, while her thin, ruby-red lips, pressed tightly together, spoke of a hint of sensuality. A fluffy mass of light brown hair fell in immense curls past her back and down her shoulders.
She wore a long-sleeved, multicolored dress that left her golden shoulders bare. Loops of thin gold chain circled her neck and emphasized the healthy glow of her skin. No rings on her fingers, he noted with silent approval, though it was hard to imagine a girl this stunning was unattached.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she giggled, resting the book on her desk. Dark brown eyes gazed deep into his. “No matter how many times I read The Lord of the Rings, I always have trouble putting it down.”
“Yeah,” said Jack dreamily, still lost in her eyes, “I know what you mean.”
The girl smiled, quickening his heartbeat even further. “Can I help you with something?”
Jack inhaled deeply, feeling foolish. “I’m here about the ad in the paper. The one about a job.”
“Really?” asked the girl, sounding a bit surprised. She squinted at Jack, as if trying to spot something not seen before. “That’s a surprise.”
Then, hurriedly, seeing the shattered look that passed across his face, “No, nothing personal about you, silly. When we placed the ad, we didn’t expect any responses for a week or more. It just appeared in the paper yesterday. I’m amazed that somebody in the Chicago area answered.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Actually, I think you’re kinda cute.”
Jack blushed. He was not used to being called cute—much less by a beautiful young woman. Putting the brakes on his racing hormones, he tried to steer the conversation back in the right direction.
“Then the position is unfilled?”
“You’re the first to apply,” said the receptionist, rising from her chair. Short and petite, she barely reached up to Jack’s shoulders. “I’m Megan Ambrose,” she said, flashing her dazzling smile warmly.
“Jack Collins,” he replied as they shook hands. Her delicate fingers were surprisingly strong.
Mentally, Jack scratched his head in annoyance. Megan’s name struck a chord somewhere in his memory, but he couldn’t place it. She looked familiar, though he felt sure they had never met before. He would definitely not have forgotten a woman this striking. He dismissed the notion as a case of wishful déjа vu.
“Pull up a chair, Jack,” said Megan, opening one of the drawers of her desk. She pulled out several sheets of paper covered with typing and a red pencil. Brushing aside the clutter, she sat down on the desk top, facing him. “Before we proceed any further, there’s a few questions I have to ask you.”