Читать книгу His Uptown Girl - Gail Sattler - Страница 9

The early-morning spring breeze drifted into the shop, doing its best to combat the smells of gas, oil and lubricants.

Bob had just reached down to check the power-steering belt of the car he was working on when an expensive sports car with tinted windows stopped in front of the bay next to him and began to back in.

Bob straightened, wiped his hands on the rag from his pocket, and watched the door to the car open.

A sleek, spike-heeled shoe poked out, followed by a slender, shapely leg. A swish of soft fabric brought the flow of a skirt, followed by the rest of the beautiful blond driver.

“Hi, Bob. I brought my tools. Where should I put them?”

Bob’s heart pounded. He stared openly at his new mechanic. If she hadn’t spoken, he wouldn’t have recognized her, she was always so casually dressed the other times she’d come into the shop with her blond hair tied up in a ponytail, probably an attempt to make herself appear taller. Today, George wore makeup and a hairstyle fit for a magazine cover. Her outfit was nicer than most women he knew wore for special occasions. It was probably more expensive as well.

He didn’t want or need a fashion model. He needed someone who could change a head gasket.

Bob wondered if he’d made his decision to hire her too impulsively. He tried to think of how to tell her that maybe he would have to reconsider, when George reached into the car, pulled out a duffel bag, and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I have to change into something more suitable before I start working.”

Before he could think of a response, she dashed off, the click of her high heels echoing against the concrete as she ran.

Bob checked his watch. It was fifteen minutes before her agreed start time. If he told her he’d changed his mind before she actually started, that might not count as actually firing her. It would probably be less painful that way.

She reappeared in minutes in comfortably worn jeans, a T-shirt proclaiming the tour of a popular Christian musician, and appropriate steel-toed safety boots. Turning as she spoke, she tossed the duffel into the back seat of her car. “I didn’t know if you had coveralls that would fit me, so I brought my own. I hope that’s okay.”

“Uh…yeah…”

Bob shook his head to clear it. At least he would see what she could do. “Ready?”

“Soon as I unpack my tools. They’re in the trunk.”

Bob turned to stare at her car, which was probably worth at least triple the sticker price of his. “Nice,” he said, positive she’d been driving something else when she’d applied for the job. He couldn’t see why someone who could afford such a car would apply at his simple shop, she was obviously used to living on more money than he could pay.

“This car does tend to turn heads. It’s my father’s.”

Bob’s father had never owned such a car. And if he had, Bob knew he would never get to borrow it.

She pushed the remote button on her keychain. The trunk popped open to display a neat array of good-quality tools packed neatly in two boxes.

“I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I brought just the basics.”

Bart chose that moment to appear. He immediately walked to the car and picked up George’s power wrench testing the heft with visible appreciation.

“Do you have a tool caddy for me?”

“We’ve got four bays,” Bob answered. “Since you’re the one who’s going to be answering the phone most of the time, you take Bay One, which is closest to the lobby. Put your tools in the shelving unit on the wall over there.”

In only minutes they had George’s tools packed away in the appropriate place.

Bart stood beside Bob as George moved her car away. “I hope we’re not taking this ‘trusting God’ thing a little too far.”

“I don’t know. All day yesterday at church, I kept thinking that God was sending us someone who really needed the job, but obviously she doesn’t. I wonder if this is some kind of test.”

Bart shook his head. “Let’s not ask for more trouble. If nothing else, she’ll look good when customers come in. Too bad she took her hair down and wiped off her makeup. Yowsa.”

Bob stiffened. “I won’t resort to the trick of hiring only pretty girls, like some of the places that deliver parts. I hired her because she immediately identified that coil problem.”

“Okay, she knows something about mechanics. But can she balance a spreadsheet? Did you notice that she only had those track references? It probably would have been a good idea to check out her former employer, but that would have made things difficult for her if they hadn’t known she was interviewing. Anyway, now it’s too late.”

“There’s only one way to find out what she’s like. Let’s get her started.”

Bart shook his head. “I don’t have time to show her anything. They’re coming to get that red sedan in an hour, and I’m not sure I’ll be finished. You hired her, so you train her.”

Bart walked off before Bob could respond.

Bob entered the lobby at the same time as George.

“Where do I start?” she asked.

“I guess the first step is to enter all the purchase orders into the computer,” Bob said as he led her to the shop’s computer. “We’ve kind of been letting it slip. When we’re so busy, the paperwork is the last thing to be done. It drives our accountant nuts. Fortunately he’s a friend.”

He showed her how to enter a few transactions. “Write the journal entry number on everything as you enter it, and then put them in that box. I take the box home once a month just so everything will be in a separate location if anything happens.”

She nodded as she entered a new purchase order. “This is a good program. I’ve used it before.”

Bob stood back and watched her work. She entered everything quickly and with obvious proficiency, and her skill got him to thinking.

On Saturday, she’d appeared more the tomboy type, especially since she claimed to be a competent mechanic. But today, after seeing her grace and refinement when she came in, and now her bookkeeping skills, he was riveted to her every movement.

He watched as she paused in figuring out how to handle a difficult transaction. When she found the correct category for the particular part, she smiled to herself, and kept typing.

As she started to reach for another piece of paper out of the box, the phone rang.

Her hand froze in midair. “Should I get that?”

“Yep, that’s another reason you’re here.”

She grinned and picked up the phone. “Good morning, thank you for calling Bob And Bart’s Auto Repair. How may I direct your call?”

Bob dragged his hand down his face.

“One moment, please,” she chirped, then pressed the hold button. “Larry Holt wants to know if his car is ready, and how much it will be.”

“This isn’t an executive office. You can say ‘good morning’ if you want, but we just say ‘Bob ’n’ Bart’s’ without having to make a speech about it. Things are pretty simple here. Tell Larry his car will be ready at two, and we’re not sure how much yet until we know if we have to replace the ignition switch. And try to be less formal.”

Her face reddened. She finished the call, then returned to the entry on the computer.

At the sight of that attractive blush, Bob decided to linger a bit, just in case she had questions. He had wondered what it would be like to have another person around, especially a woman. He’d never had an employee before. Bart and he had been friends long before they became business partners, and it was only their friendship and their shared faith in God that sustained them through the hard times.

This was different. George was an attractive woman and Bart was, well, Bart. But George was also his employee, and no more. He’d often heard not to mix business with pleasure, and this was definitely one of those times. It was his decision to hire her, and conversely, if she messed up, it would be his responsibility to fire her.

He didn’t want to think of firing her when she’d been there less than an hour. He wanted to give her a chance to prove what she could do.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to get back to work now. If you need help, just call and one of us will come.”

George frowned at the computer and looked up at him. “There’s an awful lot of stuff not entered. I’m okay for now, but the true test will be when I have to do the monthly reconciliations. You do reconcile monthly, don’t you?”

“Uh… We try, but not always. Anyway, we’d like you to do the paperwork in the morning, then after lunch you’ll work in the shop. We need you to get right into routine today.”

She smiled. “Of course. While I don’t mind the paperwork, remember, it’s the mechanic’s job I applied for first.”

Bob stared at her face, which held nothing but sincerity, trying to make sense of her. While he’d met a few women who could tell an alternator from a fuel pump, he didn’t know many who were willing to touch them, much less actually change them.

“I’ll leave you alone, then. Call me if you need anything.”

She nodded, and Bob walked into the shop to finish his own work.

The morning moved more slowly for him than any other morning in the history of their business. It didn’t help that he kept looking through the glass partition between the shop and the office to see how George was doing.

Just as she had when he was beside her, George appeared to be doing fine without him.

The real test would be when lunch break was over, and the second phase of her duties began.

Georgette looked up at the clock. Right on time, Bob walked into the lobby.

“I’m back. It’s time for your lunch break, and then I’ll get you started on a few tune-ups and things.”

Georgette folded her hands on the countertop. “Actually, I ate my lunch as I worked. I hope that’s okay.” Her father would have died to think that she’d eaten while standing at the counter, as people came in and out. However, with all the excitement of doing something new, and running back and forth between the shop and the phone all morning, she’d been hungry an hour before it was technically lunchtime.

It was actually kind of fun, breaking the rules.

“I hope you don’t think we mean for you to work through your lunch break, because we don’t. If you’ve already eaten, would you like to go for a walk or something? There’s a place down the block that has great ice cream cones. It’s opened early because of our great May weather.” The second the words were out of his mouth, he paused as if to gauge her response.

Georgette broke into a smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had the simple pleasure of eating an ice cream cone, or any kind of ice cream that wasn’t a part of a fancy dessert, meant to impress. Her father didn’t think ice cream cones were very dignified.

She reached under the counter for her purse. “I’d love an ice cream. How long will we be gone?”

“We? I… Uh…” Bob looked up at the clock, then shrugged his shoulders. “I hadn’t intended for any of us to take our breaks at the same time, but we can probably make an exception for your first day. Just a sec.” He turned and walked the three steps to the door leading to the shop, and opened it. “Bart!” he hollered. “I’m taking George for an ice cream down the street! We’ll be back in twenty!”

Bob didn’t wait for a reply. “Let’s go while things are quiet. This doesn’t happen often.”

He shucked his coveralls off, pressed a few crinkles out of his jeans and T-shirt with his hands, and met her at the door.

“What about the phone?”

“Bart will do the same thing we’ve always done. He’ll keep working, and when the phone rings, he’ll go answer it.”

“It’s really nice that you don’t ignore your calls and let them go to voice mail.”

Bob nodded. “When we’ve got someone’s car, they don’t want to talk to a machine. They want an answer from a person, even if it’s an ‘I don’t know.’ I feel the same way when I’m calling for status.”

Georgette thought of her father’s charity. Only people who wanted to ingratiate themselves with him called. They found leaving a message more efficient.

She hated dealing with the machine because she missed the personal contact. On the other hand, the way everything was handled now suited her well. She’d told her father that she could handle the organization’s details in the evening, since it only took an hour each day, and she never talked to anyone, anyway. This left her free to seek out something else to do during the daytime. He wasn’t pleased she had found something now, but didn’t press her for details probably figuring it wouldn’t last.

As they crossed the intersection, Bob pointed to the north. “There’s a small mall down that way, if you ever need anything. Next door to the mall are a couple of fast-food places.” He jerked his head in the opposite direction, toward the residential area. “But if you want one of the best corned beef on rye sandwich in the world, there’s a neighborhood market down that way.”

“It sounds like you know the area really well.”

Bob smiled. Little crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. His whole face softened, confirming her earlier opinion that her boss was quite a good-looking man.

“I grew up here. The reason Bart and I chose the location is because most of our initial customers were people we knew. It’s worked well, so we’re still here.”

As they walked, they passed a number of specialty stores and small office buildings in the small commercial district. Not a single building was over two stories tall, and there were actually open metered parking spots on the street. The ambience of the district was nothing like the hustle and bustle of downtown. Georgette liked it.

By the time they arrived at the ice cream shop, Georgette could feel effect of the unaccustomed weight of the steel-toed safety boots on her lower back, far different from too-high high heels. Thinking of her closet-full of spike heels, and the shoes she’d worn earlier, she inwardly shuddered at the thought of forcing her feet back into such things to go home.

“What flavor do you want?”

Georgette stared up in awe at the board listing the flavors.

She probably could have picked an old standard, but today was a day of new experiences. Today was her first day of independence. Therefore, she wanted to pick the wildest flavor she could.

She tipped her head toward Bob and whispered, “What’s Tiger Tiger?”

He pointed to a bin containing swirls of black and orange stripes. “I’ve had that before. It’s a little strange. Orange and licorice. My favorite is the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.”

She didn’t care if it was strange. She wanted to have an ice cream flavor she’d never had before, to celebrate her first day of doing a job she’d never done before.

She turned to the kid behind the counter. “I’ll have the Tiger Tiger, please.”

When the clerk began scooping the bright colors into a huge waffle cone Georgette reached to open her purse, but Bob stopped her.

“No, this is my treat. In honor of your first day.”

“Really?”

Bob smiled and turned to the clerk. “And the usual for me. Thanks.” He paid the teenager.

Georgette didn’t know how to respond. Of course it was only a simple ice cream cone, an inexpensive treat, but no one had ever given her anything when her father hadn’t been either watching, or would be informed later.

“Thank you,” she muttered, thinking that she didn’t know enough nice people. Of course the people at her new church were nice, but she didn’t know any of them that well, since she’d only been attending church for a few months.

When the clerk handed her the cone, Georgette gave it an experimental lick, confirming that Bob was right about the exotic flavor—it wasn’t bad, but it was a strange combination.

On their way back to work they walked faster than she would have liked, but they didn’t have time to dawdle.

“The phone hasn’t stopped ringing, Bob.” She paused to stifle her smile. Apparently there had been an ad in the help-wanted section of the newspaper. It had given her great pleasure to tell everyone that both positions had been filled. “Is it always like this? It hasn’t been when I’ve shopped before.”

“It never used to be this busy, but lately it has been. We hope with you here, it won’t be so hectic, and we can all go home at a decent time.”

She would gladly have worked as many hours as they needed, but she never would be able to explain longer hours to her father, who was not exactly pleased that she’d found a job on her own.

By the time they arrived back at the shop, both cones were finished.

“Let’s get you started in the shop. Unfortunately, you’ll still have run into the lobby to answer the phone, but it doesn’t ring as often in the afternoon.”

“Why don’t you have a cordless phone?”

Bob smiled. “Sorry, but that doesn’t work here. When the phone rings, we’ve got power tools going or we’re banging on something. It’s impossible to hear the caller speak. So you really do have to leave the room.”

“I didn’t think of that. I understand.”

“I’m going to give you all the tune-ups to do,” Bob continued.

She opened her mouth to protest that she was capable of much more, but stopped herself. The terms under which she’d been hired stated light-duty. “Sure,” she mumbled, trying to smile graciously.

Bob walked behind the counter and stacked a few work orders into a pile. “Do these, and when you’re finished, come see me.”

Georgette picked up the pile and moved the first car into Bay One, anxious to begin the job she couldn’t have foreseen in her wildest dreams.

As she worked on her tune-ups and waited for the oil to drain, she watched her bosses as they worked. They both worked hard and appeared to share all tasks and decisions equally, yet they still remained friends.

Of all the people Georgette knew, she couldn’t call a single woman a real friend. She seldom saw them outside formal events, and even then those events were mainly venues to make or strengthen contacts. Even at the gym, Georgette felt as if her life was a competition.

She liked to think of the guys at the track as her friends, but she never saw them anyplace else. She suspected much of that had to do with their wives and girlfriends being suspicious that she was there for more than automechanical work.

Everyone at church was friendly, but three months wasn’t enough time to nurture any real friendships, especially when she only saw them once a week, and then rushed home directly after the service, since her father didn’t want her going in the first place.

At four twenty-five, Bart appeared beside her. She hadn’t finished the pile, but it was time to go home in five minutes.

“Didn’t get as much done as you thought you would, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said quietly.

“Before you go, Bob wants to see you. He’s in the office. Okay?”

Georgette stepped out of her coveralls, hung them on the hook, picked up the pile of work orders she hadn’t completed, and made her way to the lobby. Her stomach clenched with the thought that she wasn’t good enough, or fast enough, and that her first day was also going to be her last.