Kathleen’s green eyes slid down over the molded chin to the well-defined shoulders. There her gaze froze. Where she had expected to see an oversized leather chair, befitting a man of Mr. Kirchoff’s position, she saw the incongruous shine of chrome. Seth Kirchoff was sitting in a wheelchair.
Her fondest wish at that moment was that he hadn’t detected her shock, but he had. “It is rather gruesome when you first see it, isn’t it?” he asked, looking down at the arms of the chair. “But once you get used to it, it isn’t so bad.” He raised those compelling eyes to hers and smiled.
“I don’t find it gruesome,” she replied honestly. “It’s just that it was unexpected.”
He grinned winningly. “I’ve often considered putting a sign outside that read ‘Beware: Man in Wheelchair Inside.’ ”
Kathleen laughed spontaneously. “You might weed out a lot of tedious interviews that way.”
“I might at that. Maybe I should do it.” They smiled at each other, each frankly approving of the other. “At the risk of sounding piteous, I’ll tell you straightaway that I was in an automobile accident the night of my college graduation. Three of my fraternity brothers were killed. I was spared, but a broken back left me paralyzed from the waist down.”
“You were very lucky.”
He propped his chin on his fists, supporting them with his elbows on the arms of his chair. “That’s a very unusual response, Ms. Haley. Most people would say, ‘I’m sorry,’ or something to that effect. Over the years, I’ve catalogued people’s reactions to my disability. They either express pity or embarrassment, and won’t look me in the eye, or else they ignore it totally, as though if they don’t see it, it will go away. You have done none of those. I think I like you, Ms. Haley.”
She grinned. “I think I like you, too.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “Would you like some coffee?” Without waiting for her answer, he pressed a button on his desk component, and within seconds the secretary was in the office.
“Ms. Haley, this is Mrs. Larchmont. She insists that I call her that in spite of our friendship.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to suspect that we’re carrying on a hot and heavy love affair,” retorted Mrs. Larchmont. Claire Larchmont was a woman in her early fifties, Kathleen guessed accurately. Kathleen thought she was an executive’s dream for an attractive, competent assistant.
It was apparent that these two shared a mutual affection and were secure enough in that relationship to tease each other. She turned to Kathleen. “You may call me Claire.”
“Ms. Haley, would you like some coffee?” Seth asked her again.
“Yes, with cream please,” she addressed Claire.
“And I—” Seth started.
“I know what you want, Mr. Kirchoff,” she said as she left the office.
“She’s priceless, isn’t she?” Seth asked Kathleen.
“The two of you seem to work very well together,” she said.
“Yes, we do.” He clasped his hands together on the desk and said, “Now, I want to tell you what I’m looking for.”
He launched into a brief history of the department store, which had been established by his grandfather in the 1920s. Over the years, through the Depression and World War II, Kirchoff’s had managed to survive. Seth’s father had taken control of the business after the war and had increased its volume of business and profits. He had died three years ago.
“One might think that the business would have naturally fallen to me, but it was specified in my father’s will that the reins of power go to my uncle. You see, Father thought that when the rest of me had been paralyzed, so had my brain. He never quite forgave me for becoming a cripple.”
There was no bitterness in Seth’s voice, only a deep-lying sadness. “Anyway, my uncle died last year quite suddenly, and virtually by force, I moved into this office.”
He paused in his story long enough to accept a silver tray from Claire. On it were china cups and a carafe of coffee. When the coffee had been poured and served, Claire withdrew, leaving them alone again.
“Ms. Haley, Kirchoff’s has the potential of being an important name in the fashion industry of San Francisco, but it has been in the hands of old men with no vision, my father included.”
He sipped his coffee, then continued, “When I seized control, I began to lop off heads—figuratively, of course.” He smiled and Kathleen was blessed with the full impact of his charm. “It wasn’t an easy thing to do, since some of the people I fired had been here for twenty years or more, but nonetheless it was necessary. I gave the supervisor of each department ample time to restructure his or her section. When he or she didn’t, he was excised. Forgive me.” He paused. “Would you care for more coffee?”
“No, thank you,” she said, replacing her cup on the tray.
“I’ll get to the point of this interview, Ms. Haley. I know you must wonder where all this is leading.”
“I haven’t been bored, Mr. Kirchoff.”
He returned her smile and then pressed a lever that engaged the gears of his motorized chair. He steered it around the desk until he was beside her chair. Judging from the length of his body and legs, he must have stood tall before his accident.