A Dream to be Loved Kandi Jaynes

A Dream to be Loved

By

Kandi Jaynes

Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc.

27305 W. Live Oak Rd #424

Castaic, CA 91384

http://www.DesertBreezePublishing.com

Copyright © 2012 by Kandi Jaynes

ISBN 10: 1-61252-170-3

ISBN 13: 978-1-61252-170-1

Published in the United States of America

Publish Date: May 21, 2012

Editor-In-Chief: Gail R. Delaney

Content Editor: Theresa Stillwagon

Marketing Director: Jenifer Ranieri

Cover Artist: Gwen Phifer

Cover Art Copyright by Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc © 2012

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Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Dedication

To my family and friends who have all been so incredibly supportive of my writing endeavors. I am so very blessed to have such a wonderful support system.

Chapter One

"Drake, I'm so glad you're finally joining our team." Bill Denison slapped him on the back as he walked by on the way to his chair. "I always knew you'd be a great asset to the company, but I must admit, I was beginning to lose hope it would ever happen. I won't dwell on that though, you're here now, and that's what counts."

"I've looked over the reports you gave me," Drake stated. "I'm impressed. You have a knack for predicting the market."

"I've made my mistakes, but all in all, I've been pretty lucky. I'm not afraid to take chances on new products. Most of the other companies have been in business long enough they rely on variations of the old standbys. I just don't happen to believe that is where the future is." He picked up a cigar, twirling it between his fingers. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, "So as the new Vice President over manufacturing, I expect you to remember that."

Drake straightened his long legs, crossing his ankles. "I'll try to keep that in mind," he said with a grin, then added more seriously, "I'll need to get the lay of the land. See how production is managed and the general flow of inventory start to finish. I'd like to meet with some of the supervisors to get their input."

"I agree, all that is important. You aren't scheduled to start until next week, however, so I've arranged for some sample cases to be put together for you. Take them home and familiarize yourself with the new product lines. That way, when you do get out in the shop, you can concentrate on how things are being produced instead of what is being produced. It might save you some time. Some of our new pieces are quite different from what you saw here years ago."

"Thanks, that'll be helpful."

"Actually, many things are quite different than they were the last time you were here. Two years ago we expanded, nearly doubling the size of the building. We built all new offices, tearing out all the old ones to expand the shop. We added a new state of the art clean and sterile area, a much larger, more efficient shipping and receiving department, and a break room finally big enough to accommodate everybody. We've added on so many new people it's hard for me to keep up with them all. I know you're trying to get moved. You can wait and take the official tour later." Bill glance longingly at the unlit cigar. "So, how are you settling in?"

"Fine I guess. I don't much care for apartment living, but I have to stay somewhere until I can find someplace permanent."

"If you had a wife she could help you in that department. Any prospects?"

"Not one," replied Drake, letting out a loud slow breath.

"Surely you don't have any trouble getting dates. You're a young, intelligent, good-looking guy. You make a good living. So what's the problem? Don't you want to get married?"

"Actually, I would like to find a wife and start a family. The problem is finding Miss Right." He leaned his head on the back of the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling tiles. "The job I had in Indianapolis was very demanding. I didn't have a lot of time for socializing. The only women I really saw were the ones I met through work. That usually turned out one of two ways. Some were the professional career woman type. Intelligent and ambitious, but often tried to turn our relationship into a competition, wanting to prove they could do their job every bit as good as a man. Instead of wanting to relax or get to know each other when we were out, they spent the evening wanting to compare daily accomplishments." He stretched and yawned.

"Then there were the women who weren't worried about having a career. They were more than willing to get to know me and spend the evening doing whatever I wanted to do, as long as my bank account came along. Some would have loved to be the docile housewife and live in a penthouse with a closet full of designer clothes and expensive jewelry." He raised his head and looked at Bill. "Don't get me wrong, if I were to marry, I'd never begrudge my wife anything I own. I just don't want what I own to be the reason she marries me."

Bill tapped his cigar on the ashtray, "So what are you looking for in a wife?"

Drake grinned. "Just the usual. Someone who's intelligent, funny, gorgeous, and adores my every quality."

The older man laughed. "Well, it's nice to know you haven't set your sights too high."

"I want someone somewhere between high powered career woman and expensive pushover. Someone versatile enough to enjoy a big city now and then, but doesn't need an expensive high society life to be happy. Kind and loving on one hand," one side of his mouth curled upward and an eyebrow lifted slightly, "But with just enough of a feisty streak to keep it interesting."

Bill chuckled. "I hope you find her. She sounds great."

Drake pinched the bridge of his nose, surprised at himself for talking so openly about this subject, but too tired to care. "I've about given up. Why does it have to be so hard? I just want to look at a woman and know she's the right one. I'm tired of wasting time dating someone only to find out she's not right for me. Wouldn't it be great if Miss Right would just walk up and announce herself somehow? Something like, 'Hi, nice to meet you. I'm just a hometown girl who wants to enjoy life to the fullest'. It would be nice to meet a girl who isn't too uptight to order dessert once in awhile. Someone who, when asked what their favorite restaurant is, names some quiet out of the way place where you can just go and be yourself instead of a stuffy pompous overpriced one, because it's the most prestigious place to be."

Bill laughed again. "You have always managed to get what you want out of life, but I think having Miss Right come up and casually announce herself is asking a bit much, even for you. I know you're discouraged, but give it time. You're only thirty-five, you have plenty of time. Maybe once you get settled in here you can start looking for that hometown girl." Bill glanced again at his unlit cigar. "Maybe your Miss Right won't make you give up your simple pleasures in life." He grumbled good-naturedly before setting the cigar back on the ashtray. "You look exhausted. You should go home and get some rest."

"I haven't had much sleep the last few days. Between packing and trying to tie up loose ends at my old job, I've been working around the clock."

"You get some rest and tomorrow I'll have the product information sent over to you. Then you'll have the rest of the week to look it over. This weekend, Marcia wants to have you over for dinner. She'll call you with the details."

Drake stood up and shook Bill's hand. "Thanks, that sounds like a good plan. See you this weekend then. Tell Marcia I'm looking forward to it."

*****

Kate started every Monday morning the same. She would sit down with a tooling report and decide what needed to be ordered. She'd been doing this for the last two years. That was when the company had expanded yet again and the tooling and raw materials had been split into separate departments. She had been transferred to day shift and put in charge of the tool crib. It was now located at one end of the machine shop and enclosed behind an eight-foot high chain link fence. A window had been cut out of the fence with a steel platform fastened across the bottom of the open square like a small table. This was where tools and fixtures were handed in and out. Immediately to the left of the window, was a desk with a computer and to the right, a small door set on rails that slid open and shut. Large metal shelves against one sidewall and across the back were filled with miscellaneous supplies. Another small door had been put in the back corner. The other wall to just left of the computer desk contained five large cabinets with drawers holding most of the cutting tools and a small desk where Kate usually did paperwork. Many rows of shelves lined the middle of the area housing all the machine fixtures. Some still called it the tool crib, but most now just referred to it as the cage.

A bell had been hooked up beside the window so when someone needed something they could get the attendant's attention. Kate was busy with her report when she heard the bell. Putting the pages down, she headed for the window.

"Hi, Kate, I need a new drill bit. This one is shot."

"Hi, Dave, quarter inch, isn't it? I just put some away."

"Great. Hey what have you heard about the new VP?"

Kate grinned, "What makes you think I've heard anything?"

Dave laughed. "You hear everything around here. With the exception of a few office workers, everyone in the building has to come to you for supplies. You hear news from every department. So what's the scoop?"

"All I know is he starts today. I heard he's a friend of Mr. Denison."

"That's all anybody seems to know. Word is he's probably some old stodgy guy who's set in his ways. I hope he doesn't turn out to be some drill sergeant type."

"I don't think Mr. Denison would hire someone like that, do you?"

"No, probably not. Denison is a pretty nice guy. Do you know the new guy's name?"

Kate cocked her head, "Let me think. I don't remember for sure, Mallard? Mandarin? It seems like it had something to do with a duck."

"A duck?"

"I don't remember, but we'll probably find out today."

Ten minutes later, Kate was finishing up her orders when she heard a thump at the window. She looked up to see Smitty walking away. Getting out of her chair she marched in his direction. "Berkley!"

With her hands on her hips, she didn't so much as flinch as the angered man more than twice her size approached. Smitty glared down at her. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?" He ground out between clenched teeth.

Not daunted in the least, she replied, "The exact same number of times I've told you I'm not your mother or your maid. You know better than to bring me something like this." She pointed at the fixture he had just returned. It was dripping with cutting oil and covered with razor sharp steel shavings. "I don't hand things out looking like that, do I? I expect it to be returned looking like it did when you got it. Take it back, and don't return it until it's clean."

Smitty's shoulders dropped, as much as it was possible for them to drop anyway, and he let out a sigh. Picking up the fixture, he looked at her and conceded, "I'll clean it up." Holding the piece of steel in one hand, he pulled a shop rag out of his back pocket with the other and wiped up the oil that had dripped onto the table. Then he turned and strode to his machine.