The Heiress's Secret Romance. Martha Kennerson

He reached for his coffee.

      “Yes. I got a call Friday afternoon from another one of my well-placed sources in our state government offering me a few olive branches so to speak for all the trouble we’ve...our company had to endure this last year.”

      “Oh, really, what type of olive branch?” Morgan questioned, narrowing his eyes while the hairs on the back of his neck rose. At this point Morgan didn’t trust anyone from any government agency.

      “The only one you need to worry about is the one from OSHA. They’re sending one of their trainers to update our material and orientate our employees on some new regulatory updates.”

      “They’re what?” Morgan frowned. Why in the hell would I need or want to use any of their trainers?

      “You heard me, son.”

      Morgan went around the desk and dropped down in the chair. He knew better than to argue with his mother about the decisions she made for the company, especially those that might have political ramifications. He had to pick his words carefully.

      “Do you really want someone from any government agency in our business after everything we’ve been through? I certainly don’t. I can send a couple of our trainers for a train-the-trainer session and they can come back and train everyone else here. You realize they send their trainers to our training center for a number of different programs we conduct?” he reminded his mother, trying to keep his annoyance under control.

      “I do, son, and while that sounds like a great idea, unfortunately I’ve already agreed and given my word.”

      Morgan gave his head a quick shake. “When will they get here?”

      Victoria gave a nonchalant shrug. “I have no idea. All I know is that they arrive today.”

      Morgan grabbed his cup and took a sip. “I’ll listen to what they have to offer, but if it’s not up to our standards, the ones you set, I’ll send them packing.”

      Victoria rose from her seat and smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now, let’s go.” She reached for her hard hat.

      Morgan stood. “Where are we going?”

      “To talk to some of the line staff. It’s been a while since I’ve been out here. I’d like to see a few people. Just deliver me to Adrian, and you can wait for our guest in his office.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” Morgan offered her his arm, and they walked out of the office.

      * * *

      Kathleen arrived at the Kingsley plant close to ten, much later than she would have liked thanks to an unexpected traffic jam on the freeway. She was impressed by the level of security just to gain entrance to the property and the plant itself, although part of her wondered if that was a sign that the Kingsleys were trying to hide something. Kathleen exited her vehicle, pulled out her roller bag and purse and made her way to the guard’s stand.

      “Good morning, ma’am. May I help you?” one of the three guards greeted.

      “Yes.” Kathleen pulled out her ID and flashed it to the guard. “I’m Kathleen Winston from OSHA, and I’m here to conduct some training sessions.”

      “One moment.” The officer reached for his phone at the same time Kathleen’s rang. She checked the screen and saw that it was her father calling. Instead of answering she sent him to voice mail.

      The guard handed Kathleen a visitor’s badge. “You’ll need to keep this on you at all times. Please follow me. May I help you with your bag?”

      “No, thanks. I have it.”

      Kathleen followed her escort over to a small truck. He handed her a hard hat. “You need to put this on.” He gave her the once over, and the corners of his mouth turned down as he nodded.

      “Is everything okay?”

      “Yes, ma’am. It’s just most of our female visitors don’t think to wear sensible shoes like the ones you’re wearing.”

      Kathleen looked down, past the conservative black suit and white blouse she wore to the black leather loafers on her feet, and laughed. “This isn’t my first time working in a plant.” She got in the truck and watched the guard load her things while she put on the hat. Kathleen was glad she’d remembered to put her hair in a low, tight bun when she got dressed.

      “My name is Van, ma’am,” the guard stated as he got in the truck behind the wheel.

      “Pleased to meet you,” she replied, smiling.

      Van gave Kathleen a map of the plant in the form of a brochure before giving her the layout as he drove around the outskirts. He highlighted the major points of interest. Van explained that she’d have to have an escort to each location.

      “Will you be that escort?”

      “No, ma’am. That will either be the plant manager, Adrian Jones, or someone he assigns.”

      Kathleen had done her research and she knew all the names of the key staff and the positions they held at the plant; however, several of their photos hadn’t been available. She especially found it surprising how little she was able to find out about the Kingsleys. Yes, there was a great deal of detail about their recent troubles, their financial fortune and of course their family’s matriarchs, but minimal information beyond tabloid gossip was available about the personal lives of the heirs.

      They drove toward a large one-story white building with the Kingsley name on it. “Is that where I’m going?”

      “At some point I’m sure. That’s the administrative building where you’ll find the training center. However, I was told to bring you to the plant manager’s office.”

      They rode in silence through the middle of the plant on what was a main street, and Kathleen was surprised to see a five-story glass office building surrounded by several other equally impressive buildings of varying sizes positioned in the center of the plant. Wow. You can’t judge a book by its cover but this place is pretty great. “This plant is like a small town.”

      “You haven’t seen anything yet. The Kingsleys take good care of their people.” They pulled into an assigned parking space and exited the truck.

       I’ll keep that in mind.

      Kathleen collected her things and followed Van into the building where another security guard met them. Before the guard could offer a greeting, a tall Hispanic man wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt with Kingsley Oil and Gas monogrammed above his left shirt pocket said, “Good morning, Ms. Winston. I’m Paz Villarreal, operations manager.” He offered her his hand.

      “Pleased to meet you,” she replied, accepting his callus-riddled hand, and smiled.

      “Thanks, I got it,” he told the officer from his building as he patted him on the back. “Thanks, Van, I got it from here. You can get back to your post.”

      He nodded. “Thank you, Van,” Kathleen said.

      “No problem, ma’am.”

      “May I help you with your bag?” Paz offered.

      “No, thank you. I’m fine. We passed your training center coming in. Will I not be working there?”

      “Eventually.” They walked over to the elevator and took the short ride up to the fifth floor. He led her past a small waiting area and down a long hall with offices on each side. They came to the end of the hall and stood in front of a door with a sign that read Operations Administration. Paz opened the door and stood aside as Kathleen entered. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. The waiting area had two low-back leather sofas sitting against the left and right walls with framed blueprints of the plant hanging above them. An expensive Persian rug covered the slate floors, and a long fish tank filled the back wall.

      “Very nice.”

      Paz laughed.