Читать книгу His Uptown Girl - Gail Sattler - Страница 11

Bob unlocked the door to the lobby promptly at 7:00 am, punched in the alarm code, then headed straight for the coffee machine.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed coffee so badly.

At first he’d been a little nervous about going to the twenty-four-hour donut shop with George alone, but today he had no regrets. They’d talked, they’d laughed and they’d talked some more. It was well after midnight by the time they’d realized they both should have been home asleep. Bob couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired after a weekend, but he also couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much.

It told him it had been too long since he’d set the worries of the business aside, and gone out to do something just because it was fun. Now that he had help in the shop, he could look forward to trying some new things.

People started coming in before the coffee was ready, dropping off their cars on the way to work.

Bart arrived as usual at seven-thirty and George arrived with enough time to run into the washroom, change and be at her station for eight o’clock.

Bob shook his head. He had no idea why she did such a thing, but he had to admit he enjoyed watching her run by before she re-emerged in the shapeless coveralls.

When the washroom door opened, Bob had her coffee poured, complete with double cream and no sugar.

“Thanks, Bob,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes to take her first slow, luxurious sip, then sighed. “What’s lined up for today?”

“About the same, nothing critical. We’ll get the morning rush caught up, then you can get back to the bookkeeping.”

“Okay.” She nodded, then took a bigger sip of the hot coffee. “The way you’ve got me splitting my duties is working really well. I’m making good progress.”

Bob smiled. He was pleased with how fast she was getting everything organized, and Adrian would be even more pleased. “Great. We’ve got the usual tune-ups lined up for the morning, but after lunch I’ve got some bigger jobs for you.”

He started to go over the row of work orders pinned to the board with George when the electronic chime for the door sounded.

They both turned simultaneously as a tall, good-looking man in an expensive suit walked in.

George fumbled her coffee mug, spilling a little over the edge. A splash of coffee dribbled onto one boot.

Bob stared at this new potential customer, one better dressed than the majority of people who walked in off the street. He’d probably had a breakdown mid-trip, as the neighborhood wasn’t exactly the center of the high-rise financial district.

Instead of looking at Bob, as most potential customers did when they needed help, the newcomer only had eyes…and raised eyebrows, for George. He surveyed her from head to safety-workboot covered toes.

“Hello, Georgette.”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Hello, Tyler.”

Tyler gazed around the room, taking in everything from the work board to the coffee machine to the old couch, and treating Bob as just another furnishing. Bob tried not to take it personally.

“I need some work done on my car.” Tyler focused on the crest on George’s coveralls, blinked, then looked back up to her face. “Can you help me?”

George cleared her throat. “What seems to be the problem? With your car.”

“It, uh… It makes this noise every once in a while, and I thought I should have it looked at.”

It was Bob’s gut feeling that there wasn’t really anything wrong with Tyler’s car, and that Tyler was there only to see George.

To give them some privacy, he walked into the shop.

“Hey, Bob, did you see what just pulled in?”

He turned toward Bart. I don’t want to know what Tyler drives, Bob thought. “What?” he asked.

Bart jerked his head in the direction of Bay Four’s open door.

He could see a shiny new Porsche through the large opening.

A Porsche so new that any alleged noise would be covered by the warranty, and could be fixed at the dealership.

Bob resolutely ignored the car, fixing his attention instead on the large window between the office and the shop. George was standing at the counter, writing something down. Tyler was leaning forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

“Looks like you’ve got competition,” Bart’s voice drifted from behind him.

Bob spun around.

“No one is competing,” he mumbled, then began searching through his tool caddy for just the right wrench.

“If you say so.” Bart shrugged, then turned around to continue his current project.

As soon as Bart was busy, Bob turned to watch Georgette.

She didn’t seem very excited to see her acquaintance, and Bob didn’t know why he found that comforting. Her behavior reinforced it—she shook her head a few times, then glanced through the window, straight at him.

Bob quickly turned his head down and continued his search for the wrench. When he found his spare, he picked it up and turned to continue the job he was supposed to be doing when the movement of the door of Tyler’s Porsche opening caught his eye. Slowly and carefully, the Porsche was backed out of the parking spot and driven away, purring like the well-tuned machine it was, not a suspicious noise to be heard.

Bob pulled the rag out of his pocket, wiped his hands, and returned to the lobby, where George was busily typing purchase orders into the computer.

“I see your friend left.”

He waited for her to deny that Tyler was her friend, but she didn’t.

“I told him that if he thought there was a problem, he should take it back to the dealership where he got it, because anything wrong would still be under warranty.”

He again waited for her to say something more, anything, but silence hung between them.

He cleared his throat and stepped behind the counter. “Let’s go over today’s lineup together.”

She nodded silently as he paged through the orders. When he’d divided up the work for the day, she logged off the computer, picked up her pile, and made her way quietly into the shop.

Bob couldn’t remember the last time a day had dragged this way. Even though the three of them didn’t talk any more or any less than they had in the past week, a heavy silence seemed to hang in the building, despite the constant noise of their repair work.

His earlier thoughts about shaking up his social life continued to echo through his head during the rest of the day. He was thirty years old and ready to settle down. Yet, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a steady girlfriend.

Only days ago, Adrian and Celeste had announced to the worship team that they were getting married. That, along with Bart’s endless baby pictures, reminded Bob how boring and predictable his life had become.

Of course, to start something with George would be unwise. She was his employee. However, that didn’t mean they couldn’t hang out as friends. Her reaction to Tyler indicated that although she had some sort of history with him, it didn’t appear to be romantic.

When it was time for George to go home, she disappeared into the washroom to clean up and Bob moved to the large window in preparation. When the washroom door opened again and she’d cleared it by a few steps, Bob entered the lobby, hoping she would think the timing was coincidental.

George started in surprise at seeing him in the lobby at that hour of the day, without the phone ringing. “Goodnight, Bob,” she said on her way to the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” he said, and she stopped.

“Before you go, I wanted to ask you something. I haven’t been able to go as often as I used to, but every Monday night my church has a Bible study. It’s at the home of one of the deacon couples, and it’s really informal. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me tonight.”

She blinked a few times, then glanced toward the door. “Sorry, I can’t,” she mumbled, then kept walking. She opened the door, stepped outside, then just before the door closed, she said, “I’m going out with Tyler.”

Georgette stepped back to look at herself in the mirror.

The housekeeper had helped to style her hair into perfect order.

It was stiff and felt artificial.

Her makeup was flawless, her shadow just the right color to accent her eyes. Her nail polish matched her lipstick. The artifice brought back a memory of posing for promotional photographs meant to encourage people to help the starving children of the world. It had raised only marginal funding, but it brought phenomenal publicity for her father. The experience was a good reminder of how shallow people could be.

Just like at that session, her outfit was the height of fashion, and emphasized her figure to perfection while binding it uncomfortably.

Her shoes were darling, and the perfect accent to her legs. They also pinched her toes, and she didn’t know if she could stand more than twenty minutes in them. If she took them off under the table to wiggle her toes, she knew she would never get them back on.

Georgette looked perfect.

She felt like a fake.

“Georgie-Pie, honey, you look magnificent!”

Georgette inhaled deeply, pasted on a smile that was as phony as the rest of her appearance, and turned to face her father, who was standing in her bedroom doorway. “Thank you, Daddy. Tyler should be here in a few minutes, and I want to be ready.”

“Always a stickler for punctuality.” He grinned and playfully wagged one finger in the air at her. “It wouldn’t hurt to be fashionably late.”

“We have reservations for dinner.” Besides, Georgette considered being fashionably late incredibly rude and self-centered. It was only one of many ways to draw attention to oneself. She hated that, too. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a few more minutes to finish getting ready.” She didn’t bother to watch him leave.

It was at times like this she thought of her mother, and wondered if the endless social charade was one of the things that had driven her mother away. Georgette had been very young when her mother had left. Her father had told her it was because her mother didn’t want to be part of their family anymore. It had hurt terribly at the time, and still did. As an adult, though, Georgette could see how her father’s tyranny made her family dysfunctional. She could only guess at the difficulty of being married to him. She often thought about how bad it must have been to make her mother run away and abandon her two children.

On the way to the closet, Georgette’s step faltered. She had one picture of her mother left that her father hadn’t found and destroyed. She kept it hidden in the lining of her purse, and whenever she switched purses, she made sure the picture went with her. It would never do to have her father find it now. She turned in time to see her father close the door behind him.

When the door was closed, Georgette dumped the contents of her purse haphazardly onto the bed, but she carefully removed the laminated and carefully preserved picture from where she’d hidden it in the seam of the lining.

She paused to sit on the bed to study the picture, and to remember.

As an adult, the resemblance between her and her mother was strong. They had the same light-blond hair color, the same blue eyes, and, sadly, the same lack of height. The picture had been taken only days before her mother had left. Georgette had been ten years old, and the two of them had been together, laughing and making rabbit ears behind each other’s heads with their fingers.

Josephine had taken the picture in the afternoon, while her father was at work. He never would have permitted such nonsense if he’d been there. Georgette had sneaked the picture out of the package and taken it to school to show a friend. When she’d arrived back home, not only was her mother gone, but so was everything her mother owned, and every reminder of her. It was a clean sweep. All she had left of her mother was one candid photograph and a small gold cross on a delicate gold chain that she never took off, not even at night.

“Georgie-Pie, honey. He’s here!”

She gently tucked the photograph into its new secret hiding spot in the new purse lining, then rammed everything else in as quickly as she could. “I’ll be right there!” she called, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. She stuck out her tongue at her reflection, stiffened and walked slowly, in a dignified manner, out of the bedroom, and down the stairs.

Tyler smiled, but he didn’t leave her father’s side. “You look lovely, Georgette.”

“Thank you, Tyler,” she said gracefully. She batted her eyelashes coyly, positive that Tyler wouldn’t catch her sarcasm.

Bob would have caught it if she did such a thing to him. In fact, Bob would have laughed.

She should have been with Bob right now. She’d been thrilled that he’d invited her to a Bible study meeting. But instead, she was with Tyler because she couldn’t take the chance he would tell her father he’d seen her. She needed to talk to Tyler immediately.

Tyler held the car door open for her and whisked her away to an intimate and very expensive restaurant.

She was almost surprised he hadn’t taken her somewhere splashy, somewhere people they knew would see them, but she guessed Tyler wanted the privacy rather than the notoriety, at least for the moment.

They made polite chitchat until their meals came and the waiter made the obligatory last visit to make sure everything was satisfactory before leaving them alone.

Georgette had been dreading the moment they would be assured of privacy.

“So, tell me, Georgette, what in the world were you doing at that place?”

“I think it should be obvious. I work there. What were you doing there?” She still didn’t know if she’d ever overcome the shock of seeing someone she knew on that side of town.

“I told you what I was doing there. I was on my way downtown when I heard a noise. I must have just run over something, because the noise didn’t happen again.”

Georgette poked at her salmon with her fork. “I suppose,” she said. It was possible, but unlikely. Bob And Bart’s was nowhere near the route between Tyler’s home and his office downtown. The only way Tyler, or anyone, for that matter, would have run into her was if they already knew she was there, because it wasn’t the type of neighborhood any of her acquaintances would normally ever go to.

She cleared her throat. “I meant, what were you doing there in the first place? It’s kind of out of your way, isn’t it?”

Tyler flashed her his most charming smile—a smile clearly meant to distract her from their conversation. “It might be a little out of my way, but I felt like taking an indirect route that day.”

Indirect, nothing. His little side trip doubled his commute.

Unless he had been following her…

“Was there any particular reason you felt like going out of your way? Did you see my car when I was on the way to work or anything?”

“Yes, actually, I did see your car. That’s why I stopped in. When I walked in the door, I was certainly surprised to see you. And what a getup!”

She noted that he avoided any mention of when he’d seen her car. She was positive it wasn’t in the parking lot. It was long before that. A long, long time before that. Possibly when she was backing out of the garage at home. He could have been behind her the whole time, following her, and she wouldn’t have noticed. Of course, if she accused him of following her, he would never admit it.

She narrowed her eyes. “Lots of people wear uniforms and the like, you know.”

Tyler choked on his mouthful, swallowed, coughed and cleared his throat. “But not like that. I could see you doing accounting, but why are you delivering parts?”

Georgette’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t ready for anyone she knew, especially someone so close to her father, to know what she was doing. But she’d been caught and now it was time to defend her choices.

“I don’t deliver parts. I work in the shop, fixing things. Getting my hands dirty.” Georgette laid her knife and fork down, and clasped those hands in front of her. “And that’s exactly the job I wanted. I’m only doing the accounting because I couldn’t get one without the other.”

Tyler shook his head. “You should be working for your father.”

Been there, done that. She hated her father manipulating her like a puppet on a string. This was her first chance at independence, and nothing was going to take it away from her. Nothing. “Maybe. But for now, this is what I want to do.”

“What could that two-bit outfit possibly be paying you to make it worth your while?”

Georgette sighed. She wasn’t there for the money. The allowance her father gave her for the hour a day she spent managing his charities was more than double her full-time salary. It was one more thing her father used to control her, paying her for her loyalty. It made her feel as if she was being bought, and she hated herself for it.

“Auto mechanics is a hobby for me, so I consider this a hobby that pays.”

“You know what your father would say if he found out, don’t you?”

She shuddered at the thought. He would consider what she was doing pure defiance, and in a way, it was. But it was also the only place where she was out from under her father’s thumb. Even though she’d told Tyler she considered it a hobby, she worked hard at her job and when the day was done, she was at peace with herself and with God, and she could sleep well at night.

She raised one hand up, pressing into the tiny cross, something else her father didn’t approve of. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell Daddy the specifics yet.” In fact, she didn’t know if she would ever be ready to tell him. But at the same time, she knew that one day she would have to. To think otherwise was unrealistic.

“Tell me, Georgette, does anyone else know? Besides me?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t know,” she muttered, at least she hoped and prayed no one knew. That Tyler knew was not in her favor.

He leaned forward toward her, over the table. “I could help you keep your secret.”

Her heart began to pound. She didn’t trust Tyler, but he had her between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps graciousness on her part would evoke a similar response. “Could you? I’d really appreciate that.” She wondered nervously what he would ask for in return. She had nothing to offer. To offer money would be an insult. Any work he would ever need done to his car was best done by the dealership where he bought it.

“But in return, there’s something you can do for me.”

Here it was. She leaned closer to Tyler. “What do you have in mind?”

Tyler sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I need to attend a number of functions, and it doesn’t look good for me to go alone. I need you there as my companion. Your father would be pleased to see us together, you know, in the past, he’s encouraged me to spend time with you.”

Georgette forced herself to breathe. Tyler came from old money, but that wasn’t enough for Tyler. He was ambitious, which shouldn’t have been bad, except that like her father, Tyler didn’t care who he stepped on.

“I don’t know…” she let her voice trail off, trying to give herself more time to think.

Tyler tipped his head to one side. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

Maybe to him, it was back-scratching. To Georgette, it sounded an awful lot like extortion.

But until she could figure out a way to approach her father, she didn’t have any choice. By not dealing with the problem sooner, she had set herself up to become an easy victim.

“I can’t believe that you, of all people, would be unable to find a date. I’m sure there are any number of women who want to go out with you.”

“Maybe. But it looks better if I go to these things with the same person. It gives me a reputation for stability and maturity.”

Georgette’s blood boiled. What Tyler looked like on the outside to strangers was more important to him than anything.

Bob would never have behaved in such a manner. Even though Bob wasn’t in the upper echelons of the corporate world, he was still a successful business owner. He was a good Christian man, and he made an income he was comfortable with. His entire business was built on one thing. Doing honest work in order to satisfy his customers.

The only one Tyler wanted to satisfy was himself, no matter what the cost.

“How many times? Does today count?”

“Today we’re negotiating. Does this mean you agree?”

For now, Georgette didn’t have a choice. Soon she would find an appropriate time to tell her father, on her own terms, but until the time was right, she would have to put up with Tyler.

“I agree,” she muttered, then pushed the plate containing her half-eaten meal slightly forward on the tabletop. “Do you mind if we leave? I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”

Tyler signaled the waiter for the bill, but continued eating. “Great. Today is Monday. I’ve got to go to a wild-life fund-raiser on Wednesday. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty. It’s a dinner engagement. Dress appropriately.”