Expecting.... Carol Grace
a foreman, Frank, and I’ve got to have one today,” he said, pounding on the man’s desk. A greeting in this case was superfluous.
“What about the housekeeper? I might have a housekeeper for you.” Frank ignored Zach’s display of temper and shoved a manila folder across his desk.
Zach hesitated. He’d had a restless night. Thinking about her. The way her face paled when he told her Joe had gone. The way her hands felt captured between his. Her face pressed against his chest as he carried her to the couch. The glow in her eyes when she talked about her nebulae. He scoffed at horoscopes, but Tex’s warning lingered in his ears. “Don’t do anything...or you’ll be sorry.”
Zach leafed through the folder. The housekeeper was fifty-five years old. Hobbies were knitting and bridge. Came highly recommended. She sounded ideal. He didn’t need to read his horoscope to know she was right for the job.
“I’ll take her,” Zach said. Mallory would understand. She was already having second thoughts. In fact, she was so concerned about the job, she’d ridden into town with him just to talk about it. Of course she’d understand she couldn’t do the job.
“Don’t you want to interview her?”
“Not necessary,” he said shrugging off a twinge of guilt. “Now about a foreman.”
“I heard what happened,” Frank said, shaking his head.
“Hasn’t everyone?” Zach asked, irritably. He was trying to be patient. While the whole town was gossiping about his foreman and his housekeeper, all he could think of was how he was going to tell Mallory she was fired.
You can keep the advance, he’d say. Keep the first month’s salary. But you can’t stay. I don’t know what I was thinking. You were right. You can’t supervise people who know more than you do. Not that you don’t know a lost. It’s just in the wrong field. If you’d majored in housekeeping instead of astronomy...
No, that wouldn’t do.
It’s nothing personal, he’d say. Like hell it wasn’t. It was nothing but personal. Personal because of the way she appealed to his protective instincts. Instincts he didn’t know he had. Instincts he didn’t want to have.
“There must be a foreman in there somewhere,” Zach said, gesturing toward the file drawer. “Or better yet, out there.” He gestured toward the window, toward the hills beyond the town.
“No doubt, but... Hey, I got an idea for you. Only thing is he’s in semiretirement. You’ll have to talk him into coming back to work.”
“How old is he?”
“Ageless.”
“Don’t tell me it’s Slim Perkins.”
“It is.”
“The guy is almost ninety if he’s a day.”
“So? You some kind of ageist?”
“No, but this is hard work.”
“Give him a try.”
Zach exhaled loudly. “Okay. Send him out. Send them both out. As soon as possible.”
“Nice doing business with you, Zach. As usual.” Frank stood and shook Zach’s hand.
“Yeah, right.”
Zach felt a profound sense of relief as he walked down the main street in the charming town of San Luis Obispo, past the historic white-walled mission built by the missionary Father Serra in 1772, while the bell from the tourist trolley clanged as it clattered past.
To celebrate he walked into his favorite restaurant to have lunch. The ranch would get along without him for another hour or two, he thought, buying the local newspaper to read while he ate. But he never got a chance to read it. Mallory was seated all by herself in a big booth. If he’d thought fast enough he could have turned around and walked out the minute he saw her dark head bent over the menu. Or pretended not to see her and taken a seat at the counter.
But he didn’t. His feet took him to her booth as if he was a robot programmed to go wherever she was.
“Mallory,” he said briskly, taking the bench opposite her.
Her eyes widened. “Found your foreman already?” she asked.
“Yes.” Now was the time to tell her he’d found a housekeeper also, but he didn’t. The waitress came, and he ordered clam chowder. She ordered a tuna melt and iced tea. Then he leaned back against the vinyl seat and studied her, trying to figure out why she looked different. Was it the crisp striped tunic she wore? Or her short hair, feathered around her face? Whatever it was, she looked younger in this hairstyle, and totally defenseless. And totally impossible to fire. Damn, damn, damn.
He frowned. “You look different.”
“I had my hair cut and I went shopping,” she said. “Do I look more like a housekeeper?”
He shook his head. “Hardly,” he said. Her face fell.
He reached across the table, tilted her chin with his thumb so he could look in her eyes. The hurt she tried to hide caused his stomach muscles to tense. “That was a compliment,” he said. “Don’t worry, okay?”
She nodded, but he hadn’t convinced her. He could tell by the way she was studying the wine list upside down. If anyone was worried, it should be him. He’d just hired two housekeepers. Yesterday he had none, today he had two. Maybe that was best. Then if one ran off with the foreman, he’d have a spare. No, that was ridiculous. His fifty-fiveyear-old housekeeper running off with his octogenarian foreman? Not likely. Considering her background and his age, probably neither did a whole lot of running. He had to fire Mallory.
He told himself she wouldn’t mind. That she’d never wanted the job to begin with. And she was worried about what it entailed. She’d probably found out for herself by now that she didn’t belong at the ranch—look how fast she wangled a ride back to town today—and she would welcome the chance to get out of it. Where would she go? Back where she came. What would she do? Keep watching those dust clouds. Better than sweeping them out of corners.
“Have a nice morning?” he asked, trying to bring the conversation to a strictly impersonal level.
“Yes. I bought a few things,” she said.
“Like your new shirt there.” His eyes followed the modest neckline and the buttons that ran down the front.
“Yes.” She flushed and she ran her finger around the collar. “I wanted to get something... What do housekeepers wear, anyway? What did Diane wear?”
“I have no idea,” he said. She’d worked for him for six years and he couldn’t picture anything she wore. At all. Ever.
“Was she pretty?” Mallory asked.
“You got me.” He opened a packet of crackers and crumbled them into his soup.
She sipped her iced tea. “You don’t have to spare my feelings,” she said. “If she was pretty, say so.”
“I tell you I didn’t notice. What does it matter if she was Miss California? The important thing was that she was good at her job.”
“I thought if I looked like a housekeeper, I’d be able to act like one. Then someday I might be as good as Diane.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said, avoiding her gaze. If ever there was a time to tell her, it was now. You don’t need to look like a housekeeper, because you’re not going to be one. You wouldn’t have liked the job, anyway. It’s a lot of work. The kind of work you’re not used to. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t have a chance.
“Don’t tell me what to worry about,” she said under her breath as the waitress refilled her iced tea glass. “You have no idea what I’m really worried about.”
“No, I don’t,”