His Uptown Girl Read online

She nodded and stuffed the used tissue into her purse to hide it, taking her notepad out to record the sermon. “I’ve never been to a place like this.” She stopped as the pastor began speaking.

  Bob whispered, “If you want, we can get a tape. Randy records everything for the church’s tape library.”

  She stopped writing. “Really? I can have one?”

  “Of course.”

  At the end of the pastor’s message, Bob rose quietly and returned to the front. The worship team closed the service with one more song, one that she knew she would hear in her head all week long, encouraging her to think about God more over the days to come.

  The congregation quickly left their seats and flocked to the back of the room, where coffee and trays of donuts sat on a large table. Georgette was in the process of reaching for a donut when a man with dark hair and vivid blue eyes shuffled in beside her.

  “You must be George, the mechanic.”

  Immediately, she backed up. The man grabbed a Boston cream donut, and smiled at her. “I’m Randy. Bob told us you’d be here tonight and I saw you together. You’d better grab that donut fast. The Boston creams go quickly.”

  Before she could think of something to say, Bob’s voice sounded from behind her. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  Randy shrugged his shoulders. “If you snooze, you lose.”

  Bob stiffened. “I gather you’ve met my friend, Randy?”

  She smiled. “Briefly.”

  As they spoke, the other members of the worship team joined them.

  “Everyone, this is George, the new mechanic and bookkeeper I told you about. George, this is Paul, Celeste, and Adrian.”

  Adrian, the only one of the four men who wore glasses, smiled. “Welcome, we hope to see you back here.”

  Georgette nodded. “Yes, I think you will.” She doubted she would be able to attend the morning services at Bob’s church because of her obligations to her father, but she was free to attend Bob’s church on Sunday evenings, especially since her father thought she was going out on a social visit, not to church.

  She looked up at Bob, who was now standing beside her.

  She couldn’t help but like him, even though she told herself what she was feeling was simply a schoolgirl’s crush, a few years too late. For the first time she was happy with her life, and everything centered around Bob.

  However, it was neither practical nor wise to become personally involved with one’s boss, regardless of his strength of character. She enjoyed her job too much to jeopardize it in any way.

  Bob spoke up, “We have to go put our stuff away. I’ll be right back.”

  Celeste shook her head. “I can pack up the drums for you. Why don’t you two visit? We can all go out for coffee together after. You’re not in a rush to get home, are you, George?”

  The opposite. Since her father thought she was going out to visit friends, he wouldn’t expect her back for a long time. “No. That sounds like fun.”

  Bob’s friends all returned to the front, leaving her alone with him, or as alone as they could be in the crowd.

  “What did you think? You were saying this is quite different from where you’re going.”

  “Yes. Where I’ve been is quite formal. Your church doesn’t even have pews.”

  Bob nodded. “Yes. We also use this room for banquets and things like the women’s auxiliary functions.”

  Her heart ached, thinking of just sitting around with a group of women, talking about nothing in particular—not about who was cheating on whom or the other back-stabbing theatrics that passed for conversation in her current social circle.

  Bob told her about how his parents and most of the rest of his family attended the main church, of which this one was a plant. While they talked, a bunch of the teens cleared and stacked the chairs to make the place ready for the next group using the room.

  Just as the last of the chairs were stacked away, Randy joined them.

  “Sorry, I can’t go with you, after all. I have to go to Pastor Ron’s place to fix his computer.”

  Bob nodded. “I guess I’ll see you Wednesday, then.” Bob turned to Georgette. “We practice at Adrian’s house every Wednesday night for the coming Sunday.”

  She knew Bob worked every evening except Wednesday. Now she knew why. “You mean even when you’re this far behind, you stop working and go do church stuff?”

  “Yup. Every Wednesday.”

  Georgette studied Bob’s face, which held nothing except honesty. Taking time off meant a loss of income. She couldn’t imagine what her father would have thought of someone willingly taking a financial loss on a regular basis to do something for church. “That’s pretty dedicated,” she muttered.

  Bob smiled. “God’s done a lot for me. This is only one small thing I can do for Him. Besides, it’s something I enjoy.”

  She could imagine that after a frustrating day, or week, there might be significant release in being able to whack a drum set.

  Paul was coming down the steps of the stage as they were starting to go up. “I just remembered that I have a super early staff meeting tomorrow morning I need to prep for. I’ll have to take a rain check. Sorry.”

  Bob blinked and looked at Paul. “Must be a very early meeting. See you Wednesday, then.”

  They passed Paul and got up on the stage just as Adrian closed the zipper on the electric piano case. Celeste stood off to the side, talking on her cell phone.

  “Celeste’s mother needs some help moving some furniture. I’m sorry, we can’t go after all.”

  Bob’s eyes narrowed. “On Sunday night? This just came up now?”

  Adrian shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. See you Wednesday.”

  Bob rested his fists on his hips as Adrian carried off the electric piano. Celeste tucked her phone into her purse, picked up Adrian’s guitar case, waved, and also walked off the stage.

  “If I didn’t know better…” Bob muttered. He turned to Georgette. “I guess that means it’s just you and me. Still want to go out for coffee and a donut?”

  Georgette’s foolish heart fluttered. While she’d certainly enjoyed working with him, she had also learned in casual conversation that Bob was single. Very single. Besides, she would have been stupid if she couldn’t recognize the way people in the church did a double-take at seeing Bob at church with a woman.

  She also had her suspicions about why Bob’s friends had suddenly changed their minds about joining them for coffee.

  Going out with Bob away from a work setting wasn’t smart.

  Georgette looked up into his eyes and cleared her throat.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Four

  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. Tyle
r 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.