A Convenient Date

By Sarah Gerdes

Two years after the unexpected death of her husband, Kaitlyn Reid's life is improving. Her relentless devotion to helping the less fortunate provides a welcome distraction from the emptiness and sorrow.

Just as life begins to feel stable, her world is turned upside down. She receives an unexpected email from her attorney informing her that she is being sued by a woman claiming to be the mother of her deceased husband's son. A son she knew nothing about...

Reeling from the news, Kaitlyn happens to meet Rick Santos. Rick is a recently divorced financier that has relocated from the San Fancisco Bay area. Unaware of her personal turmoil, Rick proposes they become each other's 'convenient date.' 

Vulnerable, but with nothing to lose, she accepts.

Will she trust her heart to Rick? Will she allow him to serve as her ballast during her times of crisis? Or will she run, fearing a future resembling the dark torment of her past?

A Convenient Date is about discovering real love and the realization that doing the right thing isn't discretionary or convenient. It may ruin Kaitlyn, but truth and honesty is the only path that will give her the freedom she needs to live again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RPM Publishing
• Release date: Nov 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9780692583258

Sarah Gerdes

Before she began writing novels, Sarah Gerdes established herself as an internationally recognized expert in the areas of business management and consulting. Her 19 fiction and non-fiction books have been published in over 100 countries, and four languages. She lives with her family in Northern Idaho among a menagerie of farm animals.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

IN THE MONTHS THAT followed, Kaitlyn mechanically went through the motions of dealing with Alexander’s death, feeling as grey as the Seattle weather, hoping that spring would give her the will to live she didn’t feel. Leaving home required effort she didn’t have and being alone didn’t get easier as time went on. Spring did come, and the showers were as plentiful as the money from Alexander’s patents. After a while, she told the bank manager he no longer needed to call her when the wires dropped into her account. He insisted, rather surprised, because most people would want to know about large sums being at their disposal. It wasn’t until her attorney called her with an unsolicited offer for the patent acquisition that she gave the money much thought.

They want to give you twenty million, Raymond told her. Kaitlyn honestly didn’t care what they were offering. The patents were a part of Alexander and she didn’t want that part—no matter how significant—out of the family.

Her family of one.

Not interested, she said curtly, immediately apologizing for being so abrupt. He dismissed her comment without offense.

That’s what I told them you’d say. I expect them to come back with a much higher offer.

Kaitlyn stopped herself from making an immediate reply, mentally repeating what she always did when Raymond offered a comment that she didn’t want to hear: he’s the attorney, the only objective person paid to look after her best interests. He’d done so for over a decade, and had yet to have an error in judgment. Beyond that, she admired him as a human being. He was both professional and funny, employing his British background when it came to negotiating on her behalf and choosing just the right times to lighten the tension with his dry sense of humor. Of all the people in her inner circle, Raymond was the one male she could go to lunch with when she had the time, just to have witty, intelligent conversation without worrying he had an ulterior motive. She told herself to remember the intelligent part now, and chose her words carefully. 

No, Raymond. I mean, I don’t want to sell the patent at any price.

Kaitlyn, I understand, but think of this another way. He spoke with steady patience. The patents will always be in Alexander’s name. Another entity will simply own them. He will never be erased—ever—and that’s the important part. If you can take twenty million dollars and bank it, think of the things you can do. You could help charities, become philanthropic. When I was working with Alexander on the patent filings, he talked about setting up a non-profit to help the community. Honor him. Do something meaningful with this money—not spend your life like a nun in solitary confinement.

If it had been anyone else, Kaitlyn would have hung up the phone. Not on Raymond. He’d been there from the beginning—helping to set up the business, the patents, the wills, the estate planning and the execution of the death certificate. If it weren’t for the fact he was a happily married father with two grown sons, she was sure her feelings of admiration would have naturally evolved into something more. As it was, he was her advocate and friend: only those who really loved her gave it to her straight, as he was doing now.

I know, you’re right, Kaitlyn told him with a sigh. Alexander had been full of life and would have mercilessly berated her for wasting away in isolation. Do the best you can, she told him. If this was going to be a one-time shot, it had to be big.

It was. Raymond wisely let it drop to several organizations that three patents were on the market. A bidding war ensued, and within forty-five days, she’d signed the paperwork for thirty million. She put twenty into the foundation, the remaining would be for herself and gifts for a few members of her close family.  It took her three months to complete the last fifty pages of her novel, far longer than she’d expected. Her writing had always been her creative outlet, her activity of choice when not with Alexander or at work. Now, it was a chore; something she had to finish to complete an obligation. When she handed the manuscript over to her agent, she informed him she was taking a writing hiatus. Over the next six months she researched non-profits, structures, funding and impact. Only one outstanding question remained unanswered.

But who’s going to run it? Kaitlyn asked Raymond. Her long-time advisor gave her a look of humor.

You are, of course. Kaitlyn had blanched. She knew product marketing, not non-profits.

Kaitlyn, you will be the best sales person the foundation can have, he told her, coming across as a mentor coaching a new graduate. You were managing a twenty million dollar budget at your corporate job. You had a team. You were the face of the brand. This will be a smaller scale across the board. Kaitlyn was still skeptical. Trust me. Your primary job will involve finding donors and dispensing grants. There is no one Alexander would have entrusted his money to other than you.

It had taken several days to absorb his words, but she knew Raymond was once again right. It was what Alexander would have wanted. Reluctantly, she called her agent. Peter understood, confident he could negotiate an extension on her next book. It wasn’t what she wanted, she reiterated to Peter. She loved writing far more than she had enjoyed her career, but honoring Alexander was non-negotiable. She was sure she could do both.

Well, you’re lucky and cursed in one sense, Peter said bluntly. Romance fans aren’t known for patience. They will be rabid dogs by the time the next one comes out, no pressure though.

I don’t feel any pressure other than to get this right, she responded. I’m like a submarine going down but will eventually come up for some air.

Peter applauded the analogy. When you do, I’ll be waiting.

A year to the date after Alexander’s death, Kaitlyn officially opened the offices of Finding Hope in Seattle. It was chartered with helping families in need, and would serve as a feeder organization to the smaller, already well-established non-profits serving victims of domestic abuse and programs designed to help the women and children rebuild their lives. All were perennially underfunded and understocked. As the fundraiser in chief, she’d use her connections to increase the lines of financial support, her secondary objective to create long-lasting programs, not just spikes of funding without lasting effects.

Twelve months after that, Finding Hope was embedded in the community, playing an important part in changing the lives of those who needed help the most. As she sat in her office in Carillon Point, gazing out at the marina on Lake Washington, she also knew today, Wednesday, the eighth of February, was something else. It was her twelfth wedding anniversary, or would have been. Her perfect life had been shattered, but as her father told her, something very good had come out of it. As she mentally whispered Happy Anniversary to Alexander, she took comfort in that thought.

The phone rang and she saw it was Raymond. She picked up, feeling brighter than she had in twenty-four months. Life was finally getting back to a solid place. After a cordial greeting, her attorney asked her if she was sitting down and got straight to the point.

You’ve been sued, he said crisply. By a woman claiming Alexander fathered a son who she claims is fourteen. The attorney has requested Alexander’s DNA to prove fatherhood.

But...but how? Why? Kaitlyn stammered, unable to process his words.

Money, Kaitlyn. They want your money.

CHAPTER 2

KAITLYN SAT IN STUNNED disbelief, unconsciously running the tip of her thumb on the fingernail of her fourth finger on her left hand, an odd habit she’d developed after she’d stopped wearing her wedding ring.

Nearly fourteen. That was right around the time they got engaged or perhaps just before, or after. She couldn’t concentrate. Is it possible Alexander donated sperm in college? she asked, I’m no expert, but sperm donors have no legal or financial obligation to the child—do they?

Raymond paused ever so slightly. According to the attorney, this was a relationship. Not a sperm donation. Kaitlyn attempted to listen through the blaring ringing in her ears. Unconfirmed...must be validated...long-term relationship. Kaitlyn automatically responded, Uh-huh and I understand, at the appropriate intervals.

Kaitlyn, I dislike that I’m asking you this question, but I must. Were you aware of any such relationship existing? Kaitlyn felt bile coming up her throat.

No, she said, her voice sounding hollow even to herself. If there had been something before me, he would have told me.

Okay then. It will take some time for their counsel to complete the paperwork, unless you want to agree to it and move forward without a court order.

Kaitlyn felt spikes above her right eye, the kind that normally came only when she laid off the caffeine and she experienced slight withdrawal symptoms.

Why would I do that? If she just wants money, make her prove it.

The silence was a punch to her stomach. Her counsel informed me that they have photos with him and the boy. There are records of payments—

What?! she gasped. Breathe. Breathe. Do you think it’s true?

I’m not sure. Generally speaking, it’s bad policy for an attorney to cross the lines of bluffing into flat-out lying. The truth is persistent and generally emerges. In this case, counsel has indicated he has seen the pictures and payments mentioned.

Kaitlyn had a spike of anger that emerged as a whispered rage. Raymond, what should I do?

Wait, he said firmly, and conduct business as usual. After this blows over, the foundation will still be here, and it needs you to be steady. We won’t engage in further discussions unless we have concrete evidence. He can either provide it or submit his evidence to a judge who will order it if its justified.

Kaitlyn barely heard his last comment. Remain steady while dissecting my life with Alexander?

Okay. she repeated flatly. As she stared out onto the darkening water, she considered the possibility that her deceased husband, the man that she’d known since college, married, loved, and built a company for, had fathered a child and kept it hidden from her all these years.

CHAPTER 3

KAITLYN REACHED FOR her drawer, removing a container of extra strength Tylenol. The tablets barely made it down her throat because she involuntarily choked, disbelief and shock, the unchoreographed emotions colliding. She put her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. She felt a wet sensation, and saw blood. She’d unknowingly cut open her skin, and it stung, but nothing was going to stop the pains in her chest.

Kaitlyn took a few moments to compose herself before she stood abruptly.

Lacy, I’m going to take a short walk. Her assistant leaned from her desk outside Kaitlyn’s office just enough to make eye contact.

In this weather?

Kaitlyn shrugged, turning to put her coat on. It’s spring in the Northwest. Can’t stay inside all the time. She changed out of her heels and into her ankle-high rain boots and walked to the front, picking up her navy-blue umbrella from the holder.

Lacy’s eyes were focused on her computer. Do you need me to put a presentation on your USB stick for the event tonight? Crap. She’d completely forgotten the Seattle Rotary event. She was being honored and couldn’t miss it.

Mark asked for an informal speech, no presentation. Apparently, he has some new sponsor he wants to impress.

Lacy’s eyes went to her screen, the clicking of her nails rapid. Here it is. RifleCreek Investments. Say’s here the firm opened only six months ago. Oh, he’s handsome. The managing director that is. Rick Santos.

Lacy unconsciously touched her perfectly coiffed grey hair. Her matronly assistant had become less subtle about Kaitlyn getting out on the dating scene over the last six months. Grandmas were like matchmakers that way, always wanting to set up a single person.

I’ll see him tonight, Kaitlyn said, barely considering her comment. Her mind was focused on far bigger issues than a newcomer to the area. Be back in an hour.

She took the stairs instead of the glass elevator, the breeze off the water hitting her like a slap. White caps covered the lake today, not the boats that were safely docked. She turned right onto the paved path that stretched from the Marina on the south end into downtown Kirkland.

The soft sounds of rain served as background noise as she walked along the deserted path. It was inconceivable that the man who brought her to this point—inspired her really—would have had a child and not told her.

Her stomach clenched as she forced herself to think further on the subject. Had Alexander dropped any hints of another child, had he ever once given an indication of another life, one that didn’t involve her?

Kaitlyn walked passed Anthony’s seafood house to see a line already forming at Ben & Jerry’s ice cream across the street. One made her stomach recoil and the other called her name. She didn’t want food, she wanted a sugar fix.

She kept walking, her eyes focused on the coffee shop at the end of the road. She methodically analyzed their time together. They’d met at the printing plant where they both worked and then were in the same economics class. A year later, they were engaged and got serious about finishing undergrad as quickly as possible. He helped her on her statistics classes and she read through his engineering applications. After graduation, she accepted a marketing position at a small technology company. It provided enough income to support him through a dual masters and Ph.D. program in computer science.

And not once, in ten years, had his personality displayed signals or signs of a split life. Nor was he jealous or possessive of her success—a reason to drive a less secure man into the arms of another woman. When she was promoted from a product manager to director, he arranged a surprise party with their friends. A bouquet of a dozen roses appeared in her office every time a new software version went live. He made dinner when she had to work late, and their weekend date nights were often spent driving by homes they dreamed about purchasing. Five years into their marriage, he had his own well-paying job, they purchased a home and he’d started working after hours. Then it became her turn to wait up until he came home from meetings that stretched late into the evenings and kissed him goodbye when his travel stretched into the weekends.

Kaitlyn reached the corner and paused, uncertain. The rain-soaked bronze cow stood across from her and she thought of her Hindi friends. If cows were divine, perhaps looking at it would give her inspiration. She thought about a hot chocolate and decided against it. Additional stimulation was not what she needed at this moment.

She turned and started the mile-long walk to the marina, her thoughts drawn back to the man she adored more than any other human being. She’d loved him so much she insisted he spend her bonus money on a late model Ferrari, his dream car. He’d protested until she reminded him it was the least she could do after pushing off having children.

Now there were no children and no future. Only memories, and even those threatened to be tainted.

The rain grew faint, and soon it was a mist. She collapsed the umbrella, pulling her hood over her head. Again, she went back to Alexander and his way of being. She’d caught the slight hesitation in Raymond’s voice, the one that belied his years of being a lawyer, and along with it, decades of uncovering lies with clients and dealing with the aftermath of betrayals, financial or otherwise.

Kaitlyn had unconsciously increased her pace. Only when she reached the glass double doors of her building did she feel the pounding in her chest. She gripped the cold metal door handles with a strength she determined to apply to her thoughts. She was going to follow Raymond’s advice and continue about her life as though nothing had been said regarding Alexander and an offspring.

She looked at her watch. She had to get home, change and get up on stage. She was going to be steady, she silently repeated, just like Raymond said. Solid and sure, maybe even with a smile, as she received an award for giving Alexander’s money to other people. She’d weathered his death and rebuilt her life. She could weather this.

CHAPTER 4

THAT NIGHT, KAITLYN stood under the soft lights of the chandelier in the ballroom of the W Hotel, smiling at the head of the Rotary with a calm she didn’t feel.

For her contributions to the community through Finding Hope, we present this Humanitarian Award from the City of Seattle to Kaitlyn Reid. Kaitlyn shook Mark Hollinger’s hand, accepting the small plaque with the other. The only reason she was in front of a room full of applauding people was because of Alexander, and she’d never felt so uncomfortable.

Next to Mark stood a man she’d never seen before. And we thank tonight’s sponsor, RifleCreek Investments and Rick Santos.

Kaitlyn took in a flash of green eyes and near-black hair, smiling automatically. There was a reason Lacy reacted the way she did. Rick stepped back as she walked around him to the podium.

Thank you Mark, the Seattle Rotary and Rick Santos and RifleCreek for sponsoring this event, she said smoothly. I’m so grateful to those of you in this room who have donated time, money and effort to help us work to better all our community members. We couldn’t do this work without you. Kaitlyn lifted the award slightly. This is really a testament to a man who believed in the ability each one can affect lives. Please help continue his mission by working with us to extending community-oriented programs we so desperately need.

Thanking the organizing body and sponsor one last time, she exited the stage. She reached her seat, placing the plaque on the white, linen covered table. Then she watched Rick Santos give a short summary of his firm, not daring to take a drink of water. Her hands were under the table, cold and shaking.

She concentrated on the man speaking. Rick stood several inches taller than Mark, tan and trim in his suit, looking more like an athlete getting a lifetime achievement award than an investment banker. He smiled congenially, at odds with typical underwriters who tended to look grim and stone-faced as they paid cash for a moment in the sun.

Five minutes later, the main presentation portion was over and the servers were placing salads on the tables. Mark came down from the stage, alongside Rick, and they took the seats on either side of her.

Kaitlyn applied her inner yogi and breathed deeply, channeling what chi she had. Some events were community oriented, others specifically fundraising for a cause, but this was purely a social networking event. For Kaitlyn, it was akin to a speed-dating scene for assessing donors. One woman at the table had personally given to Finding Hope, and the Rotary had matched her donation, the proceeds going to a center that handled necessities for babies.

Rick, tell me more about RifleCreek. The question was asked by Amy Waden, the editor of the Puget Sound Business Journal. Kaitlyn had gotten to know the woman over the last year and considered her a peer.

We’re relatively new to Seattle, he began. It’s been six months... The table listened politely to Rick’s explanation of his investment criteria and recent successes. He spoke with an assured politeness, answering just as much as was required. This left the listeners asking for more, which she divined was exactly what the man wanted.

Her mind wandered back to Alexander. He’d hypothesized how gratifying it would be to get out of bed to help the world. The reality was far less romantic. City politics dictated what could be given to whom and sometimes how, donors wanted special recognition, and the organization periodically came under scrutiny for its financial distribution policies.

Kaitlyn’s thoughts were interrupted when she felt a touch on her shoulder. She looked up and gave a smile only slightly less forced than the one she had on stage, but she immediately stood, her back to the table.

Hi Chris. Alexander’s former CEO gave her a collegial hug.

Sorry to interrupt, he said, attempting to look contrite. Kaitlyn knew he wasn’t. Chris Parker began pursuing her about a year after Alexander died, and when she told him she wasn’t ready, he said he’d wait. He had, but first, he’d donated to the organization, which she appreciated. Then he started spreading the word, which had encouraged more donations. She was gratified and annoyed. It felt like he was financially bribing her for a date.

I just wanted to say congratulations. You’ve accomplished a lot.

Kaitlyn pressed her lips. Doing good shouldn’t really result in an award, she said, her voice low, her mind working through her next words. Your continued support has been much appreciated.

It’s the least I can do, since you won’t let me do anything else, he said, a mildly challenging look on his face. In that second, she wished Chris wasn’t such a playboy. He was sharp, handsome and had a sculpted, cross-fit perfected body. His thick, coarse hair was cut cropped, making it spike up like a cat just out of the water. He was permanently tan, but not naturally, like Rick’s olive skin. He was ‘too much of everything,’ as she had once told Suzy. Too overbuilt. Too tan. Too...showy. He needed some introspection, and that would come from the humility only a good dose of suffering could bring. But that wasn’t why she felt a sting of discomfort. She wasn’t concerned with his desires.

I’m actually glad you are here, because I had a request today for information regarding Alexander’s employment. Chris raised an eyebrow, his countenance suddenly all business. I know that as the CEO, you might not have any idea of the specifics, but, on the off chance...do you recall anything about his paychecks?

Other than going into direct deposit? No. Kaitlyn nodded. Perhaps Raymond was right, that the counsel was shaking the tree to score some easy money. The emotion of relief was faint, but it was there.

Right. Sorry to bother you. I should have just called your HR department.

Chris touched her arm in a purely CEO way. No. No problem. But to clarify, both his employment check and his consulting business were direct deposits. No Swiss accounts, if that’s what you’re worried about.

Kaitlyn blinked. Both? she asked, trying not to sound as clueless as she was. She’d never heard of a consulting business.

Yes. It made sense of course, because for tax purposes, you can deduct pretty much anything you can spend, and Alexander always said you were watchful of those things, wanting to get the biggest savings you could. He said it with a bit of jest, as though she were being let in on a joke. But this joke was on her, and it wasn’t funny.

Would you mind talking with me tomorrow morning, let’s say, 9? Her abrupt change of mood registered in Chris’s face and he nodded. Great. Talk to you then.

Kaitlyn sat down and took a drink of water. She’d just received the first confirmation that Alexander had earned money and had not told her about it. An adage came to mind: where there was one lie, there was likely to be many.

She felt the heat ebb from her face, fighting back a feeling of light-headedness.

Kaitlyn, Mark said, drawing her into the conversation. You’ve never been nominated for the Forty-Forty, have you?

How do you know I’m not past that milestone? she responded with a false levity.

Because right here, your bio says you are thirty-three, offered Rick.

You’ve got at least seven years, Amy laughingly said. Somebody is bound to nominate you. And you too, Rick, she said with a smile bigger than the one she’d given Kaitlyn. You don’t look forty to me.

I’m thirty-eight, he replied in a tone used by those who know they look younger than they are and are trying to be modest about it but can’t quite pull it off. The women at the table practically swooned as he pronounced himself to be in the highly eligible category of under forty and well-off.

They all listened to Amy’s explanation of the award. Thousands of executives nominated by peers, only forty chosen, always held at a local winery. To Kaitlyn, it sounded like a cocktail party designed to celebrate one another, like the business Oscars, Seattle-style.

Kaitlyn picked at her salad and pretended to be engaged with the dialogue around her. When Mark turned the conversation back to Rick’s business, she tried her best to be social.

So, how’s business been so far? she asked Rick.

Not bad, he said.

A successful company didn’t underwrite a rather boring event honoring a non-profit to help the word get out. Amy caught her eye and they shared a moment.

Well don’t run him off just yet, Amy warned her. We need all the new totem poles we can get in the area, no matter how low.

Rick gave Amy a look of appreciation. It was time to expand outside the bay area. This was as far as I could go up the coast without running into Canada.

Do you think you’ll stay, or will you eventually be returning to the Bay Area? Kaitlyn asked, genuinely curious. Newcomers always fell into the I-love-this-area immediately, and stayed for life, or after six months, got depressed and left.

It will take time to establish this office, of course. The people are nice. The outdoors unbelievable. At present, I have no intention of leaving.

Kaitlyn could almost feel the female hormonal activity pick up pace. The salmon served and she picked at it, joining in the conversation when appropriate, her mind continually wandering.

Is the salmon that bad? Rick asked her, leaning in slightly, his tone inflected with humor.

I ate earlier. Lying 101. She was justified, at least this once.

Rick’s pleasant nod was at odds with the way his eyes searched hers. You spoke of the inspiration for your foundation. It must have been someone important.

Kaitlyn felt the warmth draining out of her, like an underground stream turning to ice within her veins. Yes, he was.

Thankfully, Rick didn’t have a chance to make a follow-up remark as another woman at the table asked him a question. Dessert was eventually served and the people began leaving shortly