Chapter 13

Before stepping into her office the next morning, Isobel made sure her new ring was in clear view. She said nothing about it, merely offering her usual, slightly muted “good morning” before settling at her desk.

It was thirty minutes or so before one of the clerks, Norma, came by to drop some papers on Isobel’s desk. As she wrote, Isobel deliberately steadied a page with her left hand, the ring catching the light.

Norma gasped—then shrieked. The entire office jumped.

“Isobel!” she cried, staring at the ring. “That’s new! Is that—?”

Isobel shrugged, noncommittal.

Norma’s eyes widened. “Is that an engagement ring?”

“Yes,” Isobel replied, keeping her face carefully neutral.

“You mean you’re engaged?”

“That’s what an engagement ring usually means.”

“But—but—but—” Norma flailed, unable to string her thoughts together. “But I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend! You never said you were seeing anyone! Why didn’t you tell us? Who is he? Do we know him? When do we get to meet him?”

By now, every woman in the office had clustered around. The idea of Isobel Scowan—icy, intimidating, impossible-to-approach Isobel Scowan—being engaged was too much for their collective minds to process.

Isobel laid down her pen, shuffled her papers, then stood. “I need the loo,” she said with a serene smile. “Be back in a few minutes.” And she walked, unhurried, through the stunned crowd.

Work ground to a halt. Even the office manager, normally quick to restore order, let it slide. She was as desperate as the rest of them to understand how the iceberg had melted. Isobel let them stew. She took her time—longer than necessary—before returning. Sitting back at her desk, she picked up her pen as though nothing had happened.

“Isobel,” one of the clerks whined, “you can’t do this to us!”

Isobel sighed, as if she were indulging unruly children. “Alright. The headlines: Yes, I’m engaged. Yes, we’re in love. No, we haven’t set a date yet.” She paused. “That’s it.”

“But who is he?” Norma burst out. “How did this happen?”

“What you mean is, how could I possibly attract someone?” Isobel retorted smoothly. Then, softer, almost to herself: “Maybe I’m not quite the shrew some people think.” The women exchanged awkward glances. “He seems to think I’m a catch, anyway,” Isobel added with a slight smile.

The questions kept flying. Who is he? Do we know him? Why haven’t we seen him?

“I did see her with someone the other day!” said the girlfriend of Andrew from Raymond’s office. “I saw Isobel hugging a man in the street. He looked a bit older, but good-looking in a rugged way.” She turned to Isobel. “That was him, wasn’t it? I bet he’s from out of town—some old flame from your early days.”

Isobel just shrugged. “Maybe.”

A chorus of demands rose. Tell us his name! When do we meet him?

She held up a hand. “I’m not telling you his name. Not yet. But since I know speculation will run wild, I will say this: you’ll meet him around midday. He’s taking me to lunch.”

The office collectively groaned in frustration, but Isobel merely bent her head and resumed working. One by one, the staff drifted back to their desks, though the air still crackled with whispers and stolen glances. She smiled to herself. They had no idea what was coming.

At precisely noon, the office door swung open, and Raymond strode in. The receptionist, Samantha, stiffened the moment she saw him. “What do you want?” she asked curtly.

Raymond raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the welcome. I would like to see Miss Scowan. Can you see if she’s available?”

She folded her arms. “Miss Scowan is unavailable. She has a twelve o’clock appointment. And is not available to anyone who doesn’t have an appointment.”

“I’d say this is rather important,” Raymond said mildly. “I need to speak with her.”

“I told you, she’s not available.” Samantha’s voice sharpened. “And especially not to you. Now please leave before I call Security.”

By now, heads were turning. Staff members peeked over cubicle walls, drawn to the commotion. Listening carefully and hiding a smile, Isobel entered the room. “What’s the problem, Samantha,” she asked.

“This ... man ... wants to see you. I’ve told him you’re not available, but he won’t take no for an answer.”

By this time the raised voices had drawn other staff, who were keen to see where this stand-off was going to end. “Did he book an appointment?” Isobel asked.

“No,” Samantha huffed. “That’s why I told him to go away.”

Isobel nodded solemnly. “Let me handle this.”

She turned to Raymond, face thunderous. Striding up to him, she jabbed a finger into his chest.

“I have only two words for you, mister,” she declaimed in a loud voice. A hush fell. The office held its collective breath, bracing for an explosion. There was a pause, then Isobel tilted her chin and declared, in ringing tones—

“KISS ME.”

The gasp from the crowd was audible.

Raymond wasted no time obeying her command. He swept her into his arms, kissed her soundly, and kept kissing her—long, deep, and with such enthusiasm that several onlookers turned pink. But none could believe what they were seeing. By the time they broke apart, the office was silent. Isobel, triumphant, glanced around at the gaping faces.

“I believe some of you know my fiancé,” she said lightly. “We’re off to lunch. See you in an hour.”

And with that, she took Raymond’s hand, and the two of them walked out—laughing fit to kill themselves.

... .

There was a long silence in the office, until someone exclaimed: “Did we just see what we just saw?”

“Has the Earth just done a 180 degree tilt?” asked another. “I can’t get my head around this.” There was a chorus of people vacillating between total disbelief to stupified amazement. The commotion got to the point that a senior partner of the firm, Michael Johnson, came in to investigate. So many voices tried to explain that he held up his hand to quell them. “Okay, Stephanie, what has happened to cause this uproar?”