Читать книгу A Regular Joe - Jennifer Drew - Страница 13

WHAT A DAY HE’D HAD! Joe thought as he ambled down the street toward his rattletrap truck. He’d manned saws, routers and drills to his heart’s content, then waited on customers and familiarized himself with the layout of the store. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself, and the hours had whizzed by at amazing speed.

Joe also gave Mattie Roland high marks for her rapport with customers. Everybody in Fox Hollow adored her. He’d heard her praises sung by every woman who entered the store.

Joe grinned, remembering how he’d been given the third degree by female customers he’d waited on. Everyone wanted to know where he was from, when he’d hired on and where he was staying. He was invited to a church supper and community bazaar by several customers. Typical small-town activities that he wouldn’t mind attending if time allowed.

He had artfully dodged a few personal questions by offering half-truths so he wouldn’t blow his cover. As far as anyone in town knew, he was just a regular Joe who liked the looks of this town, and the surrounding area, and decided to make a life for himself here.

Joe applied the brakes and slowed down so Mattie could pull out in front of him and lead the way to her house. He hadn’t quite figured out what had happened between them after he exited the workroom to wait on his first customer this morning. Mattie, friendly and outgoing though she had been when he arrived, had become standoffish and reserved around him. What the hell had happened? They’d hit it off big time. Then suddenly, she was careful not to invade his personal space, nor he hers.

While she was giving directions for cutting and constructing the customized knickknack shelf, she had maintained a noticeable distance from him. He hadn’t wanted distance. He’d wanted to work shoulder to shoulder with her during the lull in customer traffic at the store. Instead, Mattie gave him directions for the project, then ambled off to work on another customized design.

For a man who’d never had a problem attracting females, he was beginning to think his theory that money and corporate power lured the opposite sex to him was on the mark. Maybe he wasn’t all that personable, he mused pensively.

Doubts clouded his thoughts as he followed Mattie through a residential section to a small acreage located in a grove of blackjack trees. His thoughts scattered when he turned into the driveway of a small but well-manicured gingerbread-style home. His gaze swung to the detached two-car garage that had been converted into an efficiency apartment. Joe, who had been living in a five-thousand-square-foot brick home in the city’s suburbs, figured he was in for another culture shock.

Climbing from his truck, he ambled alongside Mattie, noting that she refused to encroach on the minimum requirement of three feet of personal space surrounding him. Damn, what was there about him that repelled her?

“I don’t know what you’re accustomed to, Joe, but this garage apartment is cramped quarters,” she said as she pulled a set of keys from the purse that was slung over her shoulder. “The rent is reasonable and the utility bills minimal.”

She opened the door, and Joe immediately fell in love with the place. The open area was paneled in glossy pine. Bay windows provided a spectacular view of trees that skirted the creek. A large mural on the west wall created an optical illusion that the inhabitant of this cracker-box apartment could wander through the tall pines and scale the mountains that lay in the background.

“Did you paint this mural?” he asked, incredulous.

Mattie nodded. “It was Pops who framed the art to give it the three-dimensional effect. It keeps the apartment from crowding in on you.”

“You are an exceptionally talented artist, Mattie,” he complimented as he strode across the carpet to closely examine the detailed artwork. “With the right backing and promotion you could go places in the art world.”

“I’m not interested in national recognition,” she informed him as she came to stand beside him, maintaining a respectable distance. “I paint for the love of it, not the money. I reside here in Fox Hollow because it’s my hometown and because I feel a fierce loyalty to my grandfather who raised me.”

“What happened to your parents?” he asked curiously.

Mattie’s smile became reflective, rueful. “I’m sorry to report that I’m the biological product of parents who were too young to want a kid toddling along, cramping their lifestyle. My parents never married. My father wanted to shake the dust of this small town off his heels and see the world. My mother dumped me on my grandparents’ doorstep when I was four and took off for parts unknown. I lost my grandmother three years later and the people in this community have become extended family to Pops and me.”

Joe nodded in understanding. “Parents can be the pits sometimes, can’t they? I was twelve when my dad took off to find himself. Hell, I never even realized he was lost! My mother is still looking for Mr. Right. At last count, none of her three ex-husbands fit the bill. It was my grandfather and grandmother who raised me, too. Gramps was determined that I didn’t turn out to be the huge disappointment my dad was to him.”

“I can tell you one thing for certain, Joe. If I ever have a family, my kids are going to be top priority, and they won’t be given a bunch of empty promises,” she said with firm conviction.

“Same goes for me. I didn’t enjoy feeling like unwanted baggage.”

“Ditto.”

“So, do you want to have kids together?” Joe popped off.

Mattie stepped back a pace and gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”

When she shifted uncomfortably, Joe cursed under his breath. That was a dumb thing for him to say. They’d bonded on some level, and he’d blown it with his playful question. “Sorry, I was only trying to lighten up our serious conversation. I really enjoy working for you, and with you, Mattie. I don’t want to do anything to spoil our friendship. Which compels me to ask if I already did something to offend you this morning. I couldn’t help but notice that your attitude toward me changed.”

Mattie inwardly winced. Had she been so obvious, so transparent after having that heart-to-heart talk with herself this morning? Apparently so. Well, she supposed now was the time to get things out in the open, explain the ground rules, just so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings between them. She was an open, forthright person, after all.

“The truth is that I like you, Joe,” she admitted, keeping her gaze fixed on the gigantic mural.

“I hear a but coming,” he murmured.

She nodded and managed the semblance of a smile. “The head honcho at corporate headquarters has a policy about relationships between managers and personnel. I know for a fact, because I dragged out my contract this afternoon and looked at the fine print. But even if Double H didn’t frown on fraternizing with hired assistants, I have my own ethics. As much as we have in common, personally and professionally, we can have only a business relationship—”

“And nothing more, no matter what the potential,” he finished for her. “I’m getting the picture, boss lady. Is there a significant other in your life as well?”

Mattie couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing.

Joe frowned, bemused. “That wasn’t such an absurd question. One look in the mirror is all the assurance you need that you’re attractive. And hell, isn’t it every he-man’s dream to happen onto a woman who shares his love for power tools?”

“Is it?” she asked. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tapped into the male psyche. But experience has taught me that some men don’t like their male territory encroached upon by a woman. It’s not feminine, or some silly nonsense. In addition, I’ve never had time for a social life, aside from community activities and projects. Up until two months ago I’d been caring for my grandfather and managing a store that brings in more business than I can keep up with. I put myself through college, commuting so Pops wouldn’t have to be alone. Until God decides to add a few more hours to the day, I don’t have time for more than professional and personal obligations.

“Which reminds me,” she said, glancing at her watch, “I need to stop by the nursing home to check on Pops. He’s a bit of a renegade. According to the staff, he’s always stirring up trouble. Last month he and his gang of cantankerous senior citizens escaped before bed check. He sneaked over to our storage shed to confiscate fishing poles. To this day I don’t know how those old rascals managed to get hold of the six-pack they were nursing while fishing at our creek.”

Joe chuckled at the verbal picture she painted. Pops sounded like quite a character. J. D. Grayson would undoubtedly approve of Pops’s shenanigans. J.D., after all, was a bit of a rascal himself.

“It wasn’t funny,” Mattie insisted, though she couldn’t contain her grin. “The nursing staff was put out with Pops because booze doesn’t mix with his medication. The staff warned him that he could have gotten dizzy, had a seizure and fallen into the water. His doctor threatened to put him in solitary confinement if he didn’t behave himself.”

Mattie pivoted, directing Joe’s attention to the features of the small apartment. “Let me give you the quick tour before I go. The kitchen area is small but efficient,” she said, gesturing toward the cabinets and appliances on the north wall. “The Hide-A-Bed sofa has a queen-size inner spring mattress for your sleeping comfort. The bathroom is on the back side of the closet. This place is yours if you’re interested, Joe.”

“I’ll take it,” he said without hesitation, even though the square footage of the apartment would fit easily into his living area in the city.

“The riding lawn mower is in my personal workshop behind the house. You’re welcome to use it,” she offered.

“I’ll mow your lawn as part of our deal. That’ll free up some of your time.”

Mattie stopped short and gazed up at him. He fell into the depths of her violet eyes—and not for the first time, either. Damn, this woman had a fierce, intense effect on him. Too bad there were restrictions placed on their potential relationship. Also, too bad the head honcho had placed restrictions between managers and assistants. Joe would like to strangle himself for that.

“That is really nice of you,” she murmured. “I accept your offer.”

When she turned and walked away, his gaze followed her out the door. Joe glanced around his diminutive apartment, which Mattie had given such a homey, welcoming appearance. This apartment had her personality, her personal touch. It was going to be hell on him, feeling her presence, observing her rules. Damn, he wished the head honcho’s policy didn’t exist. Of course, he had himself to thank for those blasted rules. What irony, thought Joe.

Muttering at himself, and at the complexity of this situation he had created, he ambled outside to grab his suitcase from the truck.

Look, appreciate, but don’t get close enough to touch, he mused sourly. Okay, he could deal with a limited relationship with Mattie, he tried to reassure himself. After all, he’d only be here a month, and the prospect of explaining that he wasn’t exactly who he pretended to be would be horribly awkward.

Better that Mattie never knew her hireling was really her corporate boss. She claimed to like Joe dandy-fine now, but he predicted she would despise him if she knew he hadn’t been totally honest with her.

No, he would simply play out the role he had designed to recapture his enthusiasm for this business, then he would put what he learned in Fox Hollow to good use. End of story.

Great idea, Joe, he thought to himself. So how do you plan to cool your heels when this pixie is so damn appealing to you, huh?

Joe decided he’d figure that out on his way to the grocery store to stock the empty fridge and kitchen cabinets.

MATTIE SIGHED AUDIBLY when she entered Paradise Valley to see one of the staff wagging an acrylic-tipped forefinger in her grandfather’s scowling face. More problems, Mattie predicted. What kind of trouble had Pops gotten into now?

Mattie braced herself when Nurse Gamble pelted forward, wearing an annoyed frown.

“Now what?” Mattie asked warily.

Gertie Gamble knotted her fists on her ample hips and harrumphed loudly. “Now that old rascal has incited a riot against the cafeteria staff. I swear he enjoys being labeled a troublemaker.”

“Hi, Shortcake!” Pops called cheerfully. “Glad you could stop by. Don’t pay any attention to Admiral Gamble. It’s her job to keep this place shipshape.”

Gertie flung Pops a withering glance, then focused on Mattie. “See what I mean? Now he’s got most of the bedpan crowd referring to me as ‘The Admiral.’ Deal with him, Mattie. I’ve had enough of him for the week.” She spun around, then turned back to Mattie. “By the way, I saw that original painting and decorative shelving you designed for Arthella Lambert. It’s so gorgeous. Could you do something for me in greens and maroon that will enhance the colors in my living room furniture?”

“Sure, Gertie, stop by the store when you have time and we’ll work out the details.”

“Thanks.” Gertie’s smile faded as she hitched her thumb toward Pops. “It’s time for your weekly talk about behavioral modification. Your grandpa’s memory only lasts seven days—tops.”

Mattie trailed after Pops, who had turned toward his room, propelled along with the aid of his three-pronged cane that lent additional support for his arthritic knees.

“The bad boy of Paradise Valley strikes again, so I hear,” Mattie commented. “What prompted this most recent rebellion, Pops?”

Pops half turned, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “So now you know what I went through during your teenage years, Shortcake. How do you like reversing roles?”

It was impossible for Mattie to remain irritated with her feisty grandfather. He was right, of course. She had given him a few gray hairs while she struggled through adolescence to reach adulthood.

“So this is payback time, is it?” she asked as she looped her arm around his waist, then gave him a fond peck on the cheek.

“Don’t be doing that around here,” Pops grumbled. “You’ll give all these broads who have the hots for me ideas, don’t ya know. Good thing I carry a cane so I can fight off the feminine attention I’ve been getting.”

Mattie giggled. “I guess it’s true that ladies, no matter what their age, love outlaws. You, being the rebellious ringleader that you are, draw all sorts of attention around here.”

“Well, somebody has to buck the system,” Pops commented as he veered toward his room. “You try eating that slop served on trays and on the plates at the cafeteria. Hell, you wanna know how many ways you can prepare and serve prunes? Have lunch with me tomorrow, Shortcake. I guaran-damn-tee you’ll join the ranks of rioters who are craving a decent meal.”

“Last I heard, a proper diet contributed to health and longevity,” she countered as she watched Pops ease a hip onto his bed. “You know perfectly well that the main reasons you’re here are to adjust your dosage of arthritic medication and balance your diet to prevent diabetic flare-ups. You can’t move back in with me until your doctor gives you a clean bill of health.”

Pops pulled his wire-rim glasses from the bridge of his nose and cleaned the lenses on the hem of his shirt. “So I have a real weakness for fried foods and red meats. So shoot me, Shortcake. What’s the point of living if you can’t enjoy yourself occasionally?”

It was hard to argue with a seventy-eight-year-old redneck who believed in taking each day as it came and making the most of it. “Is the food here really that bad?” she asked as she sprawled warily in the worn-out recliner Pops had insisted on bringing from home.

“Dog food has more taste,” he declared as he shoved his glasses back in place. “The oven-broiled steak they serve here is so tough my dentures come loose when I eat. The smothered chicken tastes like wet newspaper. The beans are cooked to death, and the fat-free desserts taste like wax. Shall I go on?”

“No, I get the picture.”

Pops glanced toward the open door to insure he wasn’t overheard, then leaned toward Mattie. “Here’s my plan, Shortcake. You can slip food to me when you come to visit. You can bring it to my window before you come through the main entrance. No one will be the wiser. Fred, Ralph, Herman and Glen are willing to pay you if you’ll do the same for them.”

Mattie nodded pensively. “I see. You want me to become an accomplice for the Roland Gang.”

He grinned unrepentantly. “You catch on quick, smart girl that you are.”

“Pops, I have a reputation to uphold in Fox Hollow,” she reminded him. “I manage a store for a corporation.”

“So? I have a reputation to maintain here, too,” he assured her. “These old folks—”

As if he wasn’t one of them, she thought to herself.

“—depend on me to lead the way and fight their battles. I bring problems to attention and see that the necessary changes are made. Old folks want and need respect, ya know. We don’t like being put out to pasture on crummy rations. Ask me, boredom and feelings of uselessness are the two leading causes of death around here.” He hoisted himself off the bed, then grabbed his cane. “Let me show you something, Shortcake.”

Mattie frowned curiously when Pops gestured toward the landscape painting and knickknack shelf she’d brought to give his room a homey appearance.

“See this stuff?”

“Yes, but—”

“Just keep it in mind, then come take a gander at this.” Pops shuffled from the room, leading her next door.

“Hey, Fred, my granddaughter is here,” he called out.

Mattie poked her head inside the generic room to see one of her grandfather’s cohorts perched on a straight-back chair, staring through the slats of the miniblinds that covered the window. “Hi, Fred. How’s it going?”

“Lousy, but thanks for asking, girl.”

“Just popped in to say howdy,” Pops said, reversing direction. “Poker at ten o’clock tonight? Your place, right?”

The bald-headed Fred perked up considerably, then winked at Pops. “Right. I almost forgot this was Friday night. One night’s about the same as another around here.”

When Pops returned to his room, he pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and displayed the ace of hearts for Mattie’s viewing discomfort.

“Pops! For heaven’s sake! Those cards have naked women on them,” she grumbled, offended.

“Sure as hell do,” he said, undaunted. “I asked Herman’s grandson to pick them up for me during his last visit. I plan to give the gang a cheap thrill tonight…and don’t give me that look, Shortcake. Ain’t a man in the Roland Gang who hasn’t seen a naked lady a few times in his life. We’re all World War II veterans. Those island women we came across when we were stationed in the Pacific didn’t wear blouses. And you know what else? A bunch of men in our unit pooled some money to buy them brassieres to preserve their modesty. You know what those women did with the contraptions we gave them?”

“No, what did they do, Pops?” she asked, smiling.

“They used them to haul coconuts two at a time,” he informed her.

Mattie cackled. Her grandfather had always been a source of amusement to her.

Pops tucked the racy cards into the pocket of his trousers, then settled himself more comfortably on the bed. “The point of taking you to see Fred is that his room has only the barest of necessities. The place doesn’t feel like home to him because it doesn’t look like home. There’s nothing on the walls, no memorabilia, no family pictures. Zilch, nada. I had to throw a tantrum to get permission to hang your artwork and the shelves in here. I shouldn’t have had to do that. We’re paying hard-earned money for room, board and medical care. Yet, this chicken coop looks like a halfway house for criminal offenders. This place needs your touch of interior decoration to provide some stimulation and aesthetic beauty. If every patient demanded the right to personalize their living quarters we could get some results. That’s my next crusade.”

Mattie cringed at the thought of another crusade for the Roland Gang. Rebel that Bernard Roland had become, he refused to give up until he’d paved the way for improvements. Yet, Mattie was inclined to agree with her grandfather. The convalescent home looked more like perdition—a dull way station to the hereafter. That definitely wasn’t the effect she would be going for if she lived here.

“Next week I’m taking the petition to the director and demanding some rights,” Pops informed her. “If I can push this project through, the patients want you to decorate their rooms like you decorated mine. And believe me, I’ve had compliments piled on top of compliments, Shortcake. The thing is that we’re talking limited budgets at the old fogies’ home. Can you handle interior decor on a skimpy budget?”

Mattie sat there, stunned. Pops was drumming up business for her, adding to her already hectic schedule? Yet, the intense, determined look on his wrinkled features indicated that the upcoming crusade was vitally important to him. He was fighting to improve the quality of life for the senior citizens who required assisted living. Could she spare the time for a project of this magnitude?

How could she not? Several of the patients here had practically helped raise her while her grandfather worked construction. These elderly folks had fed her, baby-sat her and offered her the love and concern her own parents refused to be bothered with.

Now that Joe Gray had hired on at the store, she could make time to fulfill Pops’s request. True, she would meet herself coming and going, but what else was new?

“Okay, Pops, you’ve got a deal,” she told him.

The old man leaned over to give her a high five. “Thanks, Shortcake. This means a lot to me.”

“I can see that. Fortunately, I received a directive from corporate headquarters this morning, allowing me to hire an assistant. I filled the position immediately. Joe Gray is skilled in woodcrafting and—”

“Joe Gray? Never heard of him,” Pops broke in.

“He’s new in town. I rented the garage apartment to him,” she reported.

Pops’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who is this character? Where’s he from? What do you know about him?”

Mattie took a moment to gather her thoughts and realized that she really did know quite a lot about her new assistant, although they had only spent eight hours working together.

“He’s thirty-five, single. He is respectful and has excellent rapport with the customers because he’s knowledgeable about hobbies and crafts. He thoroughly enjoys working with his hands in the workroom, and he isn’t the least bit allergic to hard work. I had to remind him to take a break this morning and this afternoon.”

“Single?” Pops inquired interestedly.

Mattie rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t even think about playing matchmaker. You have too much on your plate already. Besides, Joe and I are business associates, and that is as far as the relationship can possibly go.”

“Baloney,” Pops said, then snorted. “Unless Joe is a serial killer on the loose and hiding out in Fox Hollow, he sounds like your type. Some guys around here feel threatened because you can handle a power tool with the best of them.”

“Thanks to you,” Mattie put in, grinning.

“But if this Joe person shares your common interests and is a decent sort of fellow, I say go for it. Unless there’s something offensive about him. Is there? Ugly as original sin maybe?”

Mattie chuckled. “Just the opposite. My female customers constantly ask for his assistance, just to get a close look at him.”

“He sounds perfect. A Mary Poppins of the male variety.”

“Except that he works for me,” Mattie repeated. “I’d have to fire him if I became interested in him. Either that or I’d have to resign. I can’t do that, not when you’ve just handed me a time-consuming project to perk up your senior citizen friends.”

“Oh yeah, there is that,” Pops mumbled. “But there isn’t a single patient here at the home who wouldn’t tell you to go for it if this Joe character suits you, even if you spend your time with him and the rest of us have to stare at these bare walls an extra month before the interior decorations arrive.”

“Pops,” she said warningly.

He flung up his hand. “Don’t ‘Pops’ me, kiddo. You aren’t getting any younger, and I want you to have a life like your grandmother and I had together. Now that’s something you shouldn’t pass up.”

Mattie squirmed uncomfortably. They’d had this little talk before—about a thousand times, thank you very much. Pops wanted her married and settled before he passed on. She understood that, but you just couldn’t rush love. It either happened or it didn’t. So far it hadn’t. She’d been infatuated once or twice in her early twenties, but the relationships had fizzled out because Mattie kept long hours and took on the responsibility of caring for Pops. Most men didn’t like to compete with Pops. He was such a lively, energetic character that he tended to steal the show when he was underfoot. Her boyfriends—what few she had—demanded that she choose between them and Pops. It was no contest. This man had taken her in, raised her, provided for her, taught her skills and encouraged her to pursue her artistic gift.

Mattie glanced at her watch when her stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped lunch in order to decorate Alice Dawson’s living room. “I better go, Pops. I haven’t had supper yet.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d eaten at this cafeteria you wouldn’t feel as if you’d eaten, either,” he muttered. “I’m serious about those snacks. Graham crackers, vanilla wafers, pudding cups. Doesn’t matter to me. Just bring some junk food for me and my cronies.”

Mattie sighed, resigned to becoming an accomplice. “Okay, get a list from your gang and call me at the store tomorrow. I’ll bring the goodies Sunday evening when I come to visit.”

“You’re a doll, Shortcake. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Yes, Pops, immediately after you’d dragged me into another of your schemes.”

“Hey, you know I love ya, kiddo. You were always my very best sidekick. Now I have to settle for these yahoos at the home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you best of all.”

Mattie rose from the chair to give Pops an affectionate hug and kiss. “Love ya, Pops, even if you are the mastermind of the wildest bunch of codgers in Paradise Valley.”

“And you remember what I said about this Joe Gray person. If he’s worth your interest, then bend a few rules. I’m an advocate of that. You go, girl.”

Shaking her head at Pops’s adolescent jargon, Mattie exited. Pops was, without a doubt, the youngest seventy-eight-year-old in the country. He’d told her once that the only thing he regretted in life was not taking more risks—and he’d taken plenty of them, in her opinion. But when it came to her unwilling, unproductive attraction to Joe Gray, Mattie was hesitant.

No, she wasn’t going to fire Joe because she was interested in him, or because she really wanted to get to know him better. She needed him at the store, now more than ever—thanks to Pops’s latest mission. She’d put her feminine needs on hold years ago, after all. She could control her urges. She and Joe were going to be good buddies, best pals, she told herself sensibly. This was one time she was definitely not going to take Pops’s advice.

And that was all there was to that.