Читать книгу Almost A Wife - Eva Rutland - Страница 9

“SO YOU got stuck in the elevator!” Mike said.

“It’s not funny,” Lisa scolded, but she laughed with him. At least he didn’t know she had acted like an idiot.

“Well, you’re only a little late,” he said, and pushed open the door of the conference room.

Lisa gasped. Looking at all the gang, waiting to say goodbye, at the table laden with goodies and gifts, made her all teary. She didn’t want that.

“What’s this! You’re celebrating my getting canned?”

“Sure thing.” Mike grinned. “I warned you. Squash my creative talents one more time and you were out of here!”

“Stingy with the supplies, too. Slow,” Jim said. “Took me all of two days to get those bytes I needed.”

Others joined in the bashing, and the laughter made it easier. Not much easier. She really hated leaving…right in the midst of everything it seemed. Things changed fast in softwear, and you had to be on the ball to get there first. And they were getting there, for instance what Mike was developing with—

“Stop it, you guys! Come on, Lisa.” Pam, who was fashioning a special keyboard that was bound to be a major success, led her to the table. “Help yourself. Coffee?”

Lisa nodded and smiled at the Japanese girl she had hired only a few short months before. One of the three new people she had hired after convincing the head office that if they were to capture the international market, they had to offer a keyboard and program compatible with the nuances of the different languages. But now that she was leaving…

Egotist! You think you’re the whole kit and caboodle, that the wheels of progress stop with your departure? These are the scientists and technicians. You were just one spoke in the wheel.

An important spoke, she told herself with a touch of bitterness. I dealt with the idiosyncracies of this talented crew, I was the mediator between them and management, I fought for their ideas, got the supplies, monitored the deadlines, and—

“I brought champagne,” Mike said.

“And I baked the cake,” Linda said.

“I thank you both. My favorite drink, and my favorite cake,” she said, forcing a jocular mood. She sure wasn’t going to spoil the goodbye party they had planned. “You guys go easy on these goodies. What’s left goes home with me,”

“Stashing, huh?”

“Sure. No telling how long before another paycheck.” Lisa laughed with them. There was another job out there waiting for her, and she’d find it. She wasn’t worried, and the good mood held.

At the end of the day, as she approached the elevator, she felt the familiar prickles of panic, more pronounced because of the morning’s episode. The champagne may have bolstered her. Anyway, several others were risking the downward plunge so, despite the mounting trepidation, she managed to board with them.

She shut her eyes, remembering, feeling the claustrophobia and imminent danger of crashing or being forever trapped. The warmth and security of a man’s arms around her, the gentleness. The shock of sheer pleasure when his lips touched hers. She wished…

No she didn’t! She had acted like an idiot! Better never to see him again in life.

They had reached the lobby, and the doors slid open giving her a feeling of overwhelming relief as she walked away from the enclosed cubicle.

Everything happens for the best, she thought. She’d make sure her next office was on the ground floor.

From the bank building, she turned right to traverse the few short blocks to her apartment near the wharf. She liked her apartment. A one bedroom, but the bath was big with a separate dressing area, and the living-room space was large with lush carpeting. She had carefully chosen one on the bottom floor and found it offered more than just no elevator. Easy access to the community exercise room, laundry room and swimming pool. She meant to keep it.

If she could.

It wasn’t cheap. That hadn’t bothered her in the least when she left her so-so job in Sacramento to move to San Francisco to take the job with CTI. The enormous salary was a godsend. Not only could she afford the apartment, but she could help finance her grandparents’ move to the Sprightly Seniors retirement complex.

When she was five years old, her parents had been killed in an automobile crash, and she had moved in with her grandparents. Their love enclosed her, a warm blanket that bolstered the shock…she, from the loss of both parents, and they from the loss of an only daughter. She had basked in that love, attention, things, for they had denied her nothing. Hers had been a privileged world, and she had danced her way through it…the private schools, music and dancing lessons, swimming, skiing, family vacations in Europe. She had never even been burdened with domestic chores, for they always had household help. Her grandmother had never worked outside the house, but remained at home to care for Lisa and enjoy her clubs and social functions. Her grandfather had only been a high school principal, but…

No wonder she had thought they were rich!

She found out they weren’t when Gramps retired, and decided they should buy into the senior citizens complex where many of their friends were already living.

“If we can swing it,” he had said.

For the first time she became aware of their financial status. She discovered that their style of living had strained Grandpa’s salary to the hilt, and their modest home had been heavily mortgaged to finance Lisa’s stint at Stanford. However, proceeds from the sale of the house and their few investments made it possible to buy a two-bedroom apartment in the senior complex.

Lisa, who was just starting the job in San Francisco, was happy to see them so comfortably settled. The monthly maintenance fee included three meals a day, cleaning services and an abundance of recreational and social features, as well as continuing life care.

The thing was, Gramps’s monthly pension check barely covered the cost of all these benefits. Lisa, feeling quite wealthy with her new salary, supplemented with a sizable sum every month. Gramps had protested, but she insisted. She had been glad to supply the extra, happy that she could repay in some small measure all they had given to her.

But now…

Lisa felt the first small prickle of alarm. She had been walking on air. She had splurged on everything—apartment, furnishings, clothes, you name it.

One year ago. And now the job and big money were gone. Swish!

Even if she gave up the apartment, what would she do with all that unpaid for furniture? That was another thing. Bills.

The city was alive now. People pouring out of buildings and filling the sidewalks, bumper-to-bumper traffic. Lisa hardly noticed as she dodged other pedestrians and kept to her usual brisk pace, mentally calculating.

How did the saying go? Like father…like son? No, in this sexist era, it would be mother/daughter. She chuckled. Like her grandparents, she’d been living it up to the hilt. She had given little thought to saving and, with her usual high lifestyle, she barely made it from payday to payday.

She had one paycheck and one month’s severance pay. No more. She’d have to find another job quick.

Again she reminded herself that she wasn’t worried. She had already put in some applications listing her credentials, experience and excellent references from Sam. She was well qualified. The possibilities were endless.

Tomorrow she had an appointment with the Corry Corporation, and she had two interviews scheduled next week. All looked pretty promising, just a matter of choice. She felt very confident as she shed her clothes and headed for the swimming pool.

Three weeks later, she did not feel so confident as she faced Mr. Brown of Safe Securities, the last company on her list.

“Your qualifications are excellent, Ms. Reynolds, and I would like very much to have you aboard, but…” He paused, nervously shuffling papers on his desk. Probably the papers containing proof of her excellent qualifications, she thought with irony. “As I said, at the present time, we are cutting back, not hiring.”

Same story she had heard from others. Why was everybody downsizing at the same time?

“I can’t promise anything, but, in a few months, our position might be different.” He went on, again praising her credentials.

He was trying to let her down easily. She helped him out. “I do understand, Mr. Brown. And thank you for taking the time to explain the situation.” She managed to make a graceful exit, and soon was outside his office, in the corridor.

The empty corridor. Wasn’t anybody going down?

Probably not. Long after lunchtime, long before quitting time.

Oh, for goodness’ sake! Of course she could get in an elevator by herself!

She walked toward it. Hesitated.

Started to punch the button. Didn’t push it.

She’d feel pretty foolish if someone walked down the hall and saw her just standing there…headed neither up or down. This paranoia about elevators was not only silly, it was darn inconvenient!

But…Didn’t everything come in threes? That time at her old apartment, then three weeks ago at the bank…

Well, only five stories. Her smart pumps had low heels and she had plenty of time. She found the stairwell, swung through the door and started down. The exercise would be good for her legs.

She had plenty of time to think as she made her way down, step by step. She’d check the want ads more carefully, though it appeared to be nothing in her line there.

What was her line anyway?

Business, of course! She had her MBA to prove it. Training, experience.

Okay! Okay! Where does that get you if there are no job openings! Maybe she should get on the list of some employment agency, sign up for one of those job placement seminars. Do something, or pretty soon she’d have to put in for unemployment benefits. She hadn’t bothered to do that because she’d thought by now that something would have turned up.

Good, At last she was on the first floor. Gratefully she reached for the door.

It didn’t budge.

She shook it, but it held fast.

First floor. Security? No access unless you had business.

That was stupid. That bank of elevators was plenty accessible to anyone.

Well…Someone had to come near that stairwell sooner or later, and she would bang on that door until somebody heard her.

Ten minutes later, the door was opened by a woman in a chic tan coatdress, a smart leather purse slung over her shoulder. She shook back her sheath of smooth blond hair and stared at Lisa. “What were you doing in there?”

Lisa touched a finger to her own sleekly cropped hair, adjusted her own smart shoulder bag. “Thought I’d walk down for the exercise. A big mistake. I didn’t know they locked this door.”

“In some buildings. For security I think.”

“Funny kind of security. Anyway, thank you for letting me out. I could have been there forever,” she said, smiling as she walked away, head and shoulders high.

When she reached her apartment, and opened the door, she heard the vacuum cleaner humming.

Joline. Her weekly cleaning lady, one of the splurges that accompanied the big salary. Oh, she had felt so grand. No more scrubbing tiles, changing linens, dusting. All she had to do was water her plants, and arrange fresh flowers when the gang was coming over or she had a date.

Well, she wouldn’t be having a gang over anytime soon. Most were from work, and she had another agenda now. And Chris, the guy in accounting that she’d been dating, had transferred to Seattle three months ago. He must have seen the downsizing coming.

At any rate, she’d have to do her own cleaning now. She’d put off telling Joline because she’d been so sure she’d have another job by this time. Now…She deserved notice, too, didn’t she? Two weeks? A month?

“Come and have a cup of coffee with me, Joline,” she said when the woman had finished her chores. “I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news for you. For me, anyway.”

“Thank you. I could do with a cup of coffee, and I’m glad to take a load off my feet for a spell.” Joline, who was rather heavy, settled herself in a chair by the coffee table. “But…bad news? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I don’t like it, either,” Lisa said, as she poured coffee. “I hate to say it, but I can’t afford you any longer.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. I like working here. You’re not as messy as most.”

She didn’t ask why, but Lisa explained anyway.

Joline was sympathetic. “That’s a shame. Goodness, I don’t know what’s happening these days. Mr. Taylor, on the fourth floor, gave me notice last month. He lost his job and had to take one in Lodi. Much less pay, he told me. Times are getting tough.”

“Yes,” Lisa said, thinking she might have to move to another area herself. She’d hate to leave the city, her nice apartment. Then another thought returned…notice. “Would two weeks notice be fair, Joline? Or would you prefer severance pay?”

“Oh, honey, you got enough problems. Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa was relieved, but she wanted to be fair.

“Sure I’m sure. I know how it is when you lose a job. And, to tell the truth, I’ve got more than I need. I turned down three jobs just last week.”

“You did?” Lisa whistled. “No downsizing in the cleaning industry, huh?”

“You can say that again. And you can set your own pace, pick and choose.”

Lisa listened with idle curiosity as Joline elaborated. “You’re your own boss, set your own wages. Like I charged old Mr. Jenkins double ’cause his place was a pigsty. And you can charge an arm and a leg out in the Heights and the Cove.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. But you got to drive all the way out there, and you get plumb wore out climbing them stairs.”

“Stairs?”

“Oh, you know. All those Victorian houses got them winding stairs to the second floor. No. I couldn’t stand that. Even if one house do pay more than three apartments. Mrs. Smith called me yesterday, trying to get me to come back. I told her no, sirree, not me.”

Lisa stared, her interest perked. Set your own pace. Your own price. An arm and a leg in the Heights with all those stairs…Stairs.

No elevators!

Anybody could clean a house.

She calculated. Set your own price? An arm and a leg?

Just temporary…while she was looking.

“Joline,” she said. “Could you give me a reference?”