The Heiress's Secret Romance. Martha Kennerson
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And I love you too. Second, I told you to stop calling me that and don’t lump me in with all bougie rich people.”
“But you are...both. Rich and high-class and you know it too.” He frowned.
“I’m a melting pot of things, and I embrace them all,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Okay, Miss Thing. You beautiful, long haired, high-cheekbone-having, sophisticated, successful, thick-lipped melting pot you,” he teased. “You’re certainly rich, though.”
“Excuse me, Miss Winston. Mr. Ray, the postman just dropped off the mail.”
Gilbert looked over his shoulder. “You see that tray on my desk with the sign that reads Mail Here? Why don’t you drop it right there?” he asked sarcastically.
“Oh... Okay.” The young lady turned and hurried off.
“Thank you,” Kathleen yelled after her. Her eyes bored into Gilbert. “Really?”
“What?”
“Why are you so rude to that young lady?”
Gilbert shrugged. “She’s an intern.”
“And you’re acting like a mean girl. Stop it. It’s not a good look.”
“Fine.” Gilbert rose from his seat. “I’ll go buy the child a cookie or something. Speaking of buying things, when are you going to give me one of those black cards of yours and let me buy you some better chairs? Something nicer than these fake leather things you’re forcing your guests to endure. Better still, a whole new office set for us both.”
“This is a government office. We have to accept the furniture they already provided us. So deal with it.”
“At least you get to fix your office up with a few antique knickknacks and those beautiful and costly contemporary artworks that grace these ugly walls while I’m stuck out there in a world full of gray.”
“Oh please, talk about knickknacks. Your colorful accessorized cubicle brightens up the whole floor,” Kathleen complimented him, smiling.
“True. I do love all the colors in my rainbow flag.”
Kathleen laughed. “That you do.”
“What were we talking about?” He tapped his index finger against his temple. “Oh yeah, the fact that you’re rich and still hiding it.”
“No, we were talking about what Simpson did, and my father’s rich,” she corrected.
“So what do you call that mega trust fund you got when you turned twenty-five or what you’ll get at thirty?”
“My father’s legacy...not mine,” Kathleen stated expressionlessly. Her cell phone rang, and she looked at the screen. “Speaking of which...”
“You talk to him. I’m going to make a coffee run. Will you be having your usual?”
“Yes, thanks.” Kathleen answered her phone. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hello, Kathleen. How’s my beautiful daughter?” he asked in his native French.
“I’m fine, Dad. How are you?” she replied in English. The phone fell silent, but she could hear background noises, so she knew what had happened. Kathleen repeated her statement and question, only this time in French.
Kathleen’s Creole father was from the North American island of Sint Maarten. Along with her mother, the product of a Caucasian and Afro Caribbean relationship, he raised their children to speak both French and English. However, her father preferred that they converse using his native language.
“I just want to confirm that I’ll be picking you up tonight at your sister’s place.”
“We talked about this, Dad. I have a lot going on at work and I really can’t afford to—”
“What? Take a little time out to celebrate your mother’s legacy and help raise money and awareness for her foundation’s mission?”
“That’s not fair, Dad. Of course the work of our foundation is important. But so is my job. I’m helping to ensure others don’t have to go through what we did.”
“And I’m proud of you for it too. Yet you have a responsibility to your family as well,” he reminded.
Kathleen sighed. “Well, it looks like my workload has just lightened a bit, so yes, Dad, I’ll be there.”
“Good. Make sure your sister is on time. You know how she can be and I hate being late,” he stated, his voice firm.
“Yes, Dad. We know. We’ll both be ready when you get there.” Kathleen heard her boss’s voice before he appeared at her door. “Dad, I have to go. Love you, and I’ll see you later.”
Simpson stood in the door with his hands in his pockets. “The French language is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
“You didn’t have to end your call on my account,” he stated as he entered the office.
“Are you all right, Mr. Simpson?” Kathleen frowned. His gray suit was a bit wrinkled; he could use a haircut and he looked like he needed a nap.
“I haven’t been getting much sleep, and I’m not feeling well.”
“Maybe you should go see a doctor,” Kathleen suggested.
“I’m on my way now, but I wanted to tell you that I think you’re right.”
“About the Kingsleys?” Her eyebrows snapped to attention.
“Even though all the allegations of wrongdoing by the Kingsleys and their company have been proven false, and Evan Perez, the man behind the false narratives, is behind bars, this most recent accusation didn’t appear to come from anyone Perez hired. I still can’t believe he thought he could get away with trying to ruin the Kingsleys, who were basically defending themselves from his many attacks. He was the one who started their war in the first place,” Simpson offered, shaking his head and taking a seat.
“No, it did not. Mr. Silva seems credible and is not a part of some big conspiracy,” Kathleen stated with conviction. “His only concern is about the safety of his fellow employees and ensuring their company has competent leadership.”
“Yet how can we know that for sure?” Simpson challenged.
“Because he’s still around. He didn’t pull his complaint, and he’s very specific with his concerns too.”
Simpson nodded. “That’s true. Yet his motives aren’t completely unselfish.”
“Fine, he has stock options he wants to protect against bad management. There’s nothing wrong with that either. He claims the Kingsleys are putting their employees in danger because they changed leadership to someone inexperienced and inappropriate who altered policies, and their safety practices now don’t follow OSHA standards. He states these changes are putting people at risk. That’s reason enough to do an investigation. The man didn’t even ask for confidentiality.”
Kathleen remembered the detailed and painful explanation of how her mother’s former employer had exposed her to dangerous chemicals, causing her to contract such rare cancers. It had been hard to take. Hearing Mr. Silva’s concerns made Kathleen wonder what might have happened if someone from her mother’s company had spoken out against the poor conditions in which they worked. The desire to make someone pay for what happened to her mother fueled Kathleen’s desire to act. Her need for revenge became a lifeline, a reason for her to keep breathing every day. Kathleen was determined to make sure no other family would go through what they had. The Winstons lost their matriarch within a year of that conversation.
“How long has he worked for the Kingsleys?”
Kathleen reached for the file that sat on her desk. “Let’s