Free Your Heart's Desire by Melody Carlson

Caroline said politely. “My brother-in-law works here, and he suggested I come in this morning.” Then, because the young woman seemed interested, she went on to tell her Rich’s name and how her sister had lived in California since before the war and how Caroline had left a good secretarial job behind in Minnesota to live with them. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to go on and on. I suppose I’m a little nervous.”
    The woman smiled. “That’s okay, I thought it was interesting. Let me call Mr. Stokes—he’s our personnel manager—I think he might want to see you.”
    “Oh…thank you.” She nodded, waiting as the woman spoke on the phone, and then, just like that, she was directed to go up the stairs and down the hallway to her right.
    “Then turn right and it’s the third door down,” the woman told her. “It says Personnel on the door. Just knock and Mr. Stokes will call you in.”
    Caroline thanked her again and, feeling even more nervous, went up the stairs and down the hallway. She had expected to simply be handed an application, to fill it out, turn it in, and leave. But now it seemed she was about to meet the head of Personnel. Mr. Stokes. Hopefully his first name wasn’t Terry. That might be awkward, but at least she would finally have a proper introduction.
    She took in a steadying breath as she knocked. A deep voice said to come in, and she timidly opened the door. But to her relief it was a heavyset man with deep jowls and thinning gray hair. “Good morning,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. “My name is Caroline Clark, and I was told to come speak to you.” She made an uneasy smile. “I came to MG Chocolates under the impression I would fill out an application for employment and leave it here. But the receptionist told me to—”
    “You told Miss Warner that you worked as a secretary , correct?”
    “Miss Warner?”
    “Our receptionist. She was under the impression you had been employed as a secretary.”
    “Oh, yes, yes,” she said eagerly. “I’ve worked in two different businesses as a secretary, for a total of nearly ten years. My training was from Miss Mayfield’s Secretarial School, where I ranked in the top five percentile of my class. I worked at my last place of employment for almost five years. And I have several letters of recommendation right here with me.” She patted her handbag.
    He fumbled through a pile of papers then, finding his glasses, slipped them on, and peered curiously at her. “Please, take a seat, miss.”
    She sat down, feeling suddenly hopeful. “Do you have a secretarial position open?” she asked cautiously.
    “Well, we didn’t have one last week. But during this past weekend one of our secretaries went skiing.” He scowled at her. “Do you ski?”
    “I haven’t in years.”
    “Good. Dangerous sport. Miss Bentley broke her leg. Now let me see those letters of recommendation.”
    She took the envelope containing copies of letters from her purse and handed them to him.
    “Uh-huh…” He extracted the letters, taking his time to skim them. “Yes, this looks very good. Tell me a little about yourself, Miss Clark.”
    “Actually it’s Mrs. Clark,” she began. “But I’m widowed. My husband died early in the war.” And then she talked about her secretarial training, the places she’d worked, and what she enjoyed most about working. “I’m very detail-oriented. I work quickly and efficiently. And I do everything I can to make my boss’s job easier.”
    He laid down her letters and looked evenly at her without speaking, almost as if he was taking inventory. Then he asked her some specific questions about dictation, typing speed, and so on. “Well, if you’re interested, you can have the job, Mrs. Clark.”
    “Thank you.” She nodded eagerly. “What job would that be?”
    “Mr. Glen Hancock is vice president of Production. His secretary, Miss Bentley, will be out for at least six