Chapter 1 - Lauren
The sign at the entrance read MHC (Miller Heritage Consultants) - Lauren Miller, Principal Partner. Every morning, I paused for just a moment. Seeing my name there reminded me that every late night, every risk, and every sacrifice had been worth it. My office was in an older heritage building that suited the company’s line of work. I couldn’t sell clients on honouring the past and working on heritage properties if I didn’t walk the talk myself. At thirty-three years old, I was the founding partner of this company. We specialize in heritage planning and archaeology, with offices in Ottawa and Kingston.
The ink had barely dried on my master’s degree in heritage planning when I started bidding on contracts out of my apartment office. My internship had gone well, and the firm where I did the placement wanted to keep me on. I wanted something else. I chose the freedom and instability of a freelancer. I bid low and worked non-stop. The networking and referrals grew the business. With my savings, I opened the Ottawa office and then the Kingston branch.
Publicly, my competitors respected me. Privately, they called me a driven workaholic and a control freak. My client list grew every year. I delivered what I promised. My port of call was the boardroom of the Ottawa office. Another partner managed the smaller Kingston office, with only a couple of staffers. The work flowed between the two locations.
My workday began with planning sessions for my team, followed by meetings with clients. There were twelve employees between the two offices, and I added freelancers as needed. I devoted the first half-hour of each day to setting the office’s pace. I got updates about the different projects we were working on. I didn’t like surprises. When I talked to my clients about their respective projects, I had to be on top of the work being done.
Now, a month before Christmas, I wanted to tidy things up before closing the office for the holidays. Something I was not looking forward to. I would likely keep on working straight through. The only concession to the festivities was that I could work from home. I wasn’t fond of holidays, any of them. I didn’t even take vacations. For me, the Christmas cheer would include arguing with my sister, tolerating her brother-in-law, and listening to my parents give me advice on my life or lack thereof. I found more peace at work.
“Good morning, Anna,” I said, greeting my assistant.
Anna looked up from her desk with her usual smile and pent-up energy.
“Morning. How are you?”
“It will depend on what you tell me. Any messages or calls this morning?”
“Two calls from existing clients and another from a potential. You also received some early Christmas flowers and cards,” said Anna.
“Geez, talk about early Christmas shopping,” I laughed.
“Oh, and one call from your sister. Something about going Christmas shopping for your parents.”
I rolled my eyes and went to my office. I loved my sister, but I couldn’t deal with her call on a Monday morning. Lindsay was more of a Wednesday thing. I glanced at the client’s messages. Those I would return right away. I looked at the notes from the potential new client and froze. I took the sticky note and shoved it in the garbage can. Hell would freeze over before I returned that call.
My office was small but had a couple of windows overlooking Laurier Street. The building had been an older residential unit that went commercial with the change in the neighbourhood. After the pandemic, I had let my staff go to a hybrid work model. They would come in on certain days and work from home on other days. It suited everyone for a better balance between family and work. I found it had helped in recruiting better candidates.
“There’s a David Douglas on the line for you,” said Anna.
“Tell him I’m in a meeting. I’ll call him later,” I said.
David Douglas. After all these years. How can a man’s name send both flashes of anger and longing at the same time? I had already seen his message on the sticky note and thrown it away. Did the man not have any patience? A second call after one message. I knew the answer to that question, but I didn’t want to talk to him now, or at any other time, for that matter.
“Did he leave a message?” I asked.
“He did. He wanted to tell you it’s very important he speaks to you.”
“Of course, he would say that. Probably thinks he’s the centre of the universe. Well, not my universe, that’s for sure.”
Anna looked at me with surprise. I never hesitated to return a potential client’s call. I was good with clients. I always welcomed more business.
“Who’s this David Douglas?” Anna asked. “I’ve never heard of him before. Someone you know?”
“He’s not the sort of client we want. That much I know.”
About an hour later, a large poinsettia was delivered at reception. Anna brought it into my office to show me.
“Well, that’s nice,” I said. “Who is it from?”
Anna looked at the name and said, “Please call. David Douglas.”
“Put it in the employee lounge or kitchen. Someone will enjoy it,” I said.
“Don’t you want to read the card first?”
I didn’t care about the card. But I was curious. I wanted to know what David Douglas wanted this time. I grabbed the small envelope and thanked Anna. I would need another coffee before I read this.
