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American concoction.”
    â€œOh. Then I must just like it.”
    MaryAnne laughed again.
    â€œI lived in Santa Rosa, California, at the time—when I turned twenty-one,” he clarified. “It was the year my father died. It was also the same year that I first donned a pair of eyeglasses and acknowledged the creeping vines of age that entwine our lives.”
    MaryAnne nodded.
    David looked back at a row of clocks. “I have wondered if I am deluding myself with these, that I am buying time—surrounding myself with man-made implements of immortality.” He looked back at MaryAnne. “Whatever the reason, my fascination has grown into a full-blown obsession. My home is besieged with them.”
    â€œI would like to see—” MaryAnnestopped herself midsentence at the realization that she had just invited herself to a man’s home.
    â€œI would like to show you,” David answered. He sat back in his chair and slowly sipped his tea. “I am curious, Miss Chandler. Do you like it here?”
    â€œHere?”
    â€œAt my company.”
    â€œVery much, I think. More so than my other employment.”
    â€œYou do not seem to socialize much with the other secretaries on the floor.”
    â€œYou do not employ me to socialize.”
    David smiled. “The proper answer,” he replied. “You work hard for nobility.”
    MaryAnne gazed at him. “Are you teasing me?”
    He quickly set down his cup, anxious that he might have offended her again. “No. Not at all.”
    She took a sip of tea to hide her smile, then cradled the cup in her hands.
    â€œI have always had to work hard, Mr. Parkin. My father left England because he had been disinherited for marrying my mother—a common woman of whom my grandparents disapproved. We had little when we arrived in America and less when my father passed away. As soon as I was able, I had to assist in my family’s support. My mother passed on two years ago. So I am alone now.”
    â€œHave you any siblings?”
    â€œI have a brother. But he returned to England more than six years ago. He sent money for a while—when times were better.”
    David quietly digested the information, then rested his chin on the back of his clasped hands. “May I ask you something of a personal nature?”
    She hesitated. “. . . Yes.”
    â€œAre there men in your life?”
    â€œMen?”
    â€œSuitors.”
    She hesitated again, embarrassed. “There are a few I cannot seem to discourage.”
    â€œThat is your goal? With men?”
    â€œWith these men. I know them too well to marry them, Mr. Parkin.”
    David nodded, then set down his tea. “Miss Chandler, I would prefer that you not call me Mr. Parkin.”
    â€œWhat would you have me call you?”
    â€œDavid. Please call me David.”
    She considered the request. “I do not think I would feel comfortable in front of my coworkers.”
    David sighed. “I would not want you to feel uncomfortable, Miss Parkin.”
    â€œMiss Parkin?”
    His face turned bright crimson as he suddenly realized his slip. “Miss Chandler,” he stammered.
    Suddenly the amusement faded from MaryAnne’s eyes. She turned from him and stood.
    â€œI must go.”
    â€œMust you?”
    â€œIt would be best.”
    There was an uncomfortable lull.
    â€œI am sorry, MaryAnne. Perhaps I seem like your last supervisor who wanted you to sit on his lap.”
    â€œNo, I did not mean . . .”
    â€œMy intentions are honorable. I would never seek to take advantage. . . . It is just . . .”
    MaryAnne stared at him with anticipation. He turned away from her gaze.
    â€œI have never met anyone quite like you. I am nearly thirty-four and have no real lady friends. Not that there are not interested females. Unfortunately, there are too many.” He frowned. “They are attracted to