Monkey Wrench. Nancy Martin
a pad and pencil from her desk and began scribbling. “Will you spell that for me, please? S-A-N-T-O-R-I. Yes, I got it. Now, can I ask what this is in reference to, Mr. Santori? Who? From Tyler?”
Susannah sat up straight. “Tyler?”
Josie’s gaze met Susannah’s, communicating a new message altogether, and she said into the telephone, “Yes, I know Tyler is Miss Atkins’s hometown. Who? Oh, you mean Miss Atkins’s grandmother? Is something wrong?”
Susannah didn’t waste another instant. She reached for the receiver and took it from Josie’s hand. “Hello?” she said briskly as soon as she clamped it to her ear. “This is Susannah Atkins. Is my grandmother all right?”
A wonderfully melodic male voice said, “I thought you couldn’t come to the phone.”
“I’m here now. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said soothingly. “I’m butting in, that’s all. I think you ought to come home for Christmas.”
“Home? Why? Is my grandmother ill? Or—”
“Take it easy. She’s not sick. At least, not yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Susannah found she could hardly breathe. Her grandmother was the most important person in her life, and the thought of Rose sick or in trouble was horrifying. Susannah’s hand clutched the receiver with a clammy grip. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“Look, I don’t want you to get all upset, Miss Atkins, okay? Your grandmother’s not sick—at least she claims she isn’t. But...well, in my opinion, she hasn’t been up to snuff lately.”
“Oh, dear heaven.”
“It’s not bad,” the man assured her. “But she’s disappointed that you’re not coming home for the holidays, and I...well, I don’t believe she’s feeling as good as she pretends. I got to thinking—if it was me, I’d want somebody to call before I went away on a trip. And I’d want to check for myself. You’re going to a beach, I hear.”
Susannah frowned and tried to control her emotions. “My plane leaves tomorrow. I was going to see her when I got back, but—”
“Do you have time to drive out here this afternoon? You could take a look at her yourself before you go.”
“Let me check my book.”
“Your book?”
Most people did not understand Susannah’s total reliance on the small, leather-bound datebook she kept within reach at every waking moment. With her many appointments and her busy work schedule, Susannah’s life was very complicated. She had many obligations and responsibilities. What made things worse was her mental weakness concerning dates and times. Though talented in a hundred different ways, she absolutely could not keep her life on track without writing down every detail. Fortunately, Josie kept a duplicate book so that, between the two of them, Susannah ran on schedule.
But the man said peevishly, “You can’t squeeze in a couple of hours for your own grandmother?”
“Of course I can,” she retorted. But there were things to juggle, no doubt—like a public appearance at a department store that Susannah had promised to make that very afternoon. As she flipped open her datebook, her eye fell on the appointment at once.
Josie was checking her version of Susannah’s schedule, too. In an undertone, she said, “I’ll cancel the department store, if you want.”
“They’ll understand a family emergency.”
“But listen,” Josie said. “The store’s on your way to Tyler. Why not drop in, make the appearance a short one and buy yourself that bathing suit you need for your trip?”
“I’m not sure,” Susannah murmured uneasily.
“You could be in and out of the store in twenty minutes. I’ll go along and make sure it goes smoothly.”
“I really must get a bathing suit.”
“May I suggest a bikini?” said the dry male voice in her ear. “In pink, maybe.”
Susannah had forgotten that her voice was audible to her caller, but he probably hadn’t heard Josie’s side of the conversation. “Oh, sorry—”
“You look good in pink,” he continued sarcastically. “A pink bikini sounds like the perfect choice. It’ll make you forget all about your grandmother, I’m sure. Sorry to have bothered you, Miss—”
“Wait! That’s not it at all. I’m just checking my schedule. Of course I’ll come. I just have to make a quick stop along the way, that’s all.”
“For the bikini. All right, go ahead.” Tartly, he added, “The right bathing suit might do you a world of good, in fact.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A lady as straitlaced as you seem on television—a lady who has to check her book before she goes home for a visit—well, that’s a lady who needs loosening up, I’d say. Get a hotpink bikini, Miss Atkins.”
He was probably right, Susannah thought. Maybe her life was pretty strict, and she had allowed herself to forget the things that were truly important—like grandmothers and bathing suits. She found herself nodding in agreement.
Besides, it was hard not to be seduced by that marvelous voice. Glad he couldn’t see her smile, Susannah said, “I’m hardly the bikini type.”
“Who says so?”
“I say so.”
“That’s too bad.” There was a slight pause, during which he must have decided he’d flown off the handle. His voice dropped another half octave and on that new note he said, “Maybe you ought to try something out of character for once.”
“I like my character the way it is.”
“An occasional change can be healthy. Buy a bikini and see what happens.”
Susannah couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Are you always so free with your advice?”
He laughed, too, and the tension eased. “When it’s needed. And I think it’s definitely needed in this case. I’ll tell your grandmother that you’re coming today, all right?”
“Fine.” Susannah hesitated, then impulsively asked, “Who are you, anyway? A friend of my grandmother?”
“Yep,” said the voice. “I’m Joe Santori.”
“Well, I’m warning you, Joe Santori. My grandmother is going to be mad at you. She doesn’t like people interfering.”
“I can take it,” he replied with a laugh.
He hung up without another word, leaving Susannah to stare, smiling, at the humming receiver. For a friend of her grandmother, he sounded very young indeed. Maybe he was one of those little old fellows who hung around Tyler’s retirement home. She frowned again, trying to place his name. Was Joe Santori one of the old coots who played gin rummy every day at the hardware store? Or one of the gentlemen who sang in the church choir?
He didn’t sound like an old man. Far from it. With that low, sexy voice, he could be—
“Well?” asked Josie, interrupting Susannah’s runaway thoughts. “Who was he?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Susannah replied, cradling the phone. “But I’m going to find out.”
* * *
THE DEPARTMENT STORE was mobbed with Christmas shoppers, but Susannah and Josie managed to slip into the resort-wear section for a swimsuit before making Susannah’s quick appearance in the kitchen appliances, where she had promised to demonstrate a new brand of food processor. She apologized to the store manager for cutting her stay short, but the woman