His Uptown Girl (10 page)

She didn't smile back.

“It's okay, George. I'm sure there's something you can do for me. How about if we make it your job to sweep up the shop at the end of the day?”

She shook her head. “No. You already pay me a wage for stuff like that. I want to do something else for you.”

“It looks like you did a good job cleaning the, uh, apartment. How about if you did some housecleaning for me?”

“Are you sure? I've never done this kind of thing before. I'm still not sure I did a good job.”

“I'm sure you did.” Even if she did use a double dose of the pine cleaner. Or maybe even a quadruple dose. They'd been away from the garage for ten minutes, and the pine forest still surrounded her. “Now eat your dinner. Good food makes everything better.” He grimaced. “My mother always says that. I can't believe I'm repeating something my mother said.”

She gave him a weak smile, and finally took a bite out of her burger. “Is your mother a good cook?”

“Yeah. She makes the best osso buco in the world. My brother Tony runs an Italian restaurant, and even he can't make osso buco like Mama. When she goes to his restaurant, she always ends up in the kitchen improving the recipes. I know that probably doesn't sound very good, but once you meet my mother, you'll understand.” As soon as he realized what he'd said, he snapped his mouth shut.

He had already crossed the line between business and
personal too many times. He didn't need to expound on his mother and her quirks. It was bad enough that he was with George now, in his home.

After eating half the burger, George laid it on the wrapper. “I'm sorry, but I can't finish this.” She paused and pushed the burger away. “Actually, I don't feel very good. At first I thought I was hungry, but now that I've eaten, I think I feel worse.” She covered her mouth with her hand, and made a little cough.

Bob frowned. “I wonder if it's because you've inhaled too many fumes today. Maybe you should lie down.”

She shook her head and took a long sip of milk. “I shouldn't need to do that. Josephine never has to lie down.”

“Josephine?”

“Our housekeeper. She's very thorough. The house smells so nice and clean when she's finished every day. She always has Daddy's clothes freshly pressed so they're ready for him in the morning. Daddy likes to get into a warm shirt in the morning.”

“Morning? She irons in the morning? You mean you had a live-in housekeeper?”

She blinked a few times. “Of course…”

Bob ran his fingers through his hair. He felt as though he'd been living in another universe light years away from George's world. “George, I've never even had a housekeeper, never mind a live-in person. I also wash my own floors and clean my own bathroom and do my own laundry.”

“Why don't you send your laundry to the service that does the shop?”

“We don't
have
a service. On Saturday, Bart takes the bag of dirty coveralls home, and his wife washes everything for us. If you were wondering about who empties
the garbage cans and washes down the bathrooms, Bart and I take turns. We alternate weekends.”

Her face paled suddenly. As much as he didn't like housecleaning, Bob didn't think the concept was that abhorrent. He accepted it as something that had to be done. He and Bart saved quite a lot of money doing what they did, because both tasks were expensive to contract out.

George covered her mouth with her hand, and her complexion turned gray. “I really don't feel well.”

Before Bob could blink, she turned and ran down the hall. The bathroom door slammed, and she started to retch.

Bob pushed the remainder of his burger into the center of the table. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore, either.

When everything became quiet in the bathroom, Bob walked down the hall and tapped softly on the door. “George? Are you okay now? Can I come in?”

The door didn't open. “I'm so sorry. Please go away.”

Bob didn't go away. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been sick as an adult, but he clearly remembered his mother taking care of him when he'd had the flu as a child. Having someone who loved him care for him when he was down made the experience a little less horrible.

He seriously doubted George's father would have taken care of her. And while Josephine sounded like an efficient housekeeper, that's exactly what she was—paid help. For now, George didn't have the option of either one of them. The only one she had was him.

He wiggled the knob, and it turned. “At the count of ten, I'm coming in. Ten. Nine.” Shuffling echoed from the other side of the door. “Eight. Seven.” The doorknob moved, but since he was holding it firmly, he knew the
lock button wouldn't work. A grumble came from the other side of the door.

“Six.” He slowed his counting.

The toilet flushed.

“Five.”

The water ran, and he could hear splashing and the frantic pumping of the soap dispenser, which reminded him that it was almost empty.

“Four.”

“I give up. Come in. But you're not going to like what you see.”

He opened the door.

George stood beside the sink, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her shoulders hunched, and her eyes big and wide as she stared up at him.

“Are you okay?”

Her lower lip quivered. “No, I'm not okay. I don't think I've ever been less okay in my life.” Her eyes welled up, and one tear spilled over onto her cheek. “I'm such a failure. I can't even do something simple like clean a bathroom without making myself sick. How pathetic is that?”

Bob stared at George. He pictured her as she had been on the day she walked in to apply for the job—poised and self-confident.

She wasn't like that now. Not only did she look defeated, she looked alone, and she was. Her father had abandoned her. He knew George had a sister, but she hadn't gone to her for help. As a tomboy, George probably didn't fit in with the other single women in her social circle, it hadn't appeared so at the banquet.

She really had no one to turn to besides him. The revelation was startling and heartbreaking. The expression
poor little rich girl
had never meant anything to Bob until now, and it put the verse, “What you do for the least of these, you also do for me” in perspective.

He'd given her shelter, but it was only his garage, which he wasn't even using. In a way, having her live there gave him the benefit of added security. No one would break into his storage area in the middle of the night with someone in the building.

He fully intended to buy her meals until payday, but that was as much for his benefit as for George's. Spending time together away from work when they went out for dinner together every Thursday night had made him realize how much he missed female companionship. George, unlike the other woman he'd dated, understood what he meant when he talked a little shop. He also could enjoy himself with no risk that anything more was going to happen than a pleasant evening. She knew his schedule and his obligations, and knew that the reason they were together was simply a weekly escape from routine. Thursday nights had become another routine, but one he enjoyed.

It suddenly hit him that they would no longer be enjoying Thursday dinners together. Up until now, George had insisted on paying every second time. Now, he refused to accept her money. She couldn't afford it, and he doubted she would accept more charity from him.

In a way, he was almost working on Tyler's manipulative scale. Bob was her boss. And a happy employee was a productive one. So helping George out ultimately helped him financially.

What George really needed right now was a friend who had nothing to gain by knowing her, and he couldn't make that claim. But he supposed that anyone
else in his current position would probably give the poor girl a hug.

He started to step forward, but stopped. He didn't want to frighten her and he had her cornered in the small bathroom.

Bob remained in the doorway and extended his arms toward George. “Come here,” he said softly.

Her lower lip quivered, and she came forward, but instead of throwing herself into him the way he expected a distraught woman would, she only leaned her forehead against the center of his chest. Fortunately, she didn't cry, which was good. If she had, he didn't know what he was supposed to do.

The only thing he could think of was to rest his hands on her shoulders, which he did. “Everything will be fine,” he mumbled. “You just need to give yourself more time.”

He felt her shake her head. “I don't know what I'm doing. Everything I do is wrong. And then when I think I'm doing something right, it backfires in my face. I can't even clean up without getting sick from the cleaner.”

He massaged her shoulders with his thumbs. “That's just inexperience. You didn't know and you used too much. Next time, put only a little on the sponge, and you'll see that it goes a long way. You also picked the worst job first. I don't know why you didn't do the dusting and vacuuming before the bathroom.”

“The bathroom was smaller, so it looked easier.”

“Actually, it's not. Vacuuming is probably the easiest household chore.”

“I don't know. I've never done it before.”

Bob froze his movements. “You've never vacuumed?”

“Well, once. When I was a child, one day I thought
it would be fun to help Josephine, but Daddy saw me with the vacuum and took it away. He told me never to do that again, that I wasn't a housekeeper, I was an Ecklington. And of course, when I was a teenager, I grew out of wanting to help Josephine really quickly.”

“Uh…do you at least make your own bed?”

“Of course not. But I wouldn't talk about not making the bed, if I were you.”

A smile started to tug at the corner of Bob's mouth. The George he knew was back. “You'll do fine. You just need some help to get started. If you want, I can show you what to do.”

He felt her nod again. “I'd really like that,” she said, and as she spoke, she moved forward. Her hands fell to the sides of his waist, then started to inch to his back, but suddenly she stepped backward, covering her mouth with both hands. “I'm so disgusting!” she said between her fingers. “I have to go brush my teeth. One day, I'll pay you back for everything you're doing for me. I promise.”

Before Bob could tell her that wasn't necessary, she squeezed between him and the door, and ran down the hall. The back door opened, closed and all was silent.

G
eorgette slathered a layer of Bob's mother's homemade strawberry jam on her toast and took a big bite.

“Did you sleep okay last night? Most people don't sleep very well the first night in a new place.”

She swallowed while she nodded, then sipped her coffee. “This is so delicious! Yes, I did. I slept great.”

She'd truly slept like a log. Last night she'd wiped down the bathroom with water four times to get rid of the residue of pine cleaner, but this time, she went outside to clear out her lungs periodically. With the door open to air the place out, she'd vacuumed, dusted and even scrubbed out the insides of all the cupboards with dish soap.

At midnight, she dug through the boxes only long enough to find what she was going to wear to church that wouldn't need to be ironed, then dropped herself on the futon, more exhausted than she'd ever been in her life. She wasn't aware of a thing from that point on until Bob knocked on the door and told her it was time to get up for church.

Georgette checked her watch, knowing that they had to leave in a few minutes for Bob to be on time to practice with his friends before the service started.

She sipped her coffee quickly, enjoying common coffee as she never had in her life. More than feeling awkward in new surroundings when she woke up, she keenly felt the absence of a coffeemaker. And coffee filters. And coffee. And cream. And food.

The only thing she did have was a mug, but it was at work, which didn't do her any good.

There were so many things she needed, but the $3.37 in her wallet wasn't going to go very far.

She would have to pawn her expensive watch, even though she knew she would only get a fraction of its original price. The only other thing she owned of any value was the truck, and it would take too long to sell in its present condition. She could have money in her pocket from the watch Monday morning.

“Were you warm enough with that blanket I left for you? When we get back from church I'll give you some dishes and stuff out of my cupboard this afternoon, to get you started.”

“I can't take your dishes.”

Bob grinned. Georgette nearly choked on her current bite of her breakfast. The little crinkles that appeared at the sides of his eyes made him so attractive she stopped breathing. He always looked good in his customary attire of jeans and T-shirt, but today, dressed in black slacks and a neatly pressed blue cotton shirt for the more formal service, he was handsome in a different way.

“Sure you can. Technically, I really only need one plate, and so do you, if the dishes are washed and put away after every meal. I have a set of eight, so I can cer
tainly spare a couple of sets of plates and cutlery. Besides, it's only a loan.”

She didn't want to accept any more charity from him, but she was helpless not to. “Only if you're sure.”

“I'm sure. Except you'll still be very limited as to what you can do. I only have one toaster, so if you like toast for breakfast, I'll give you a key for my house and you can come in after I leave in the morning. There are probably a number of other things you need that can't wait until payday on Friday, so I'm going to give you an advance on your paycheck.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I won't advance the whole thing, but I can give you a portion.”

She looked again at her watch, which she now could keep, at least temporarily. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

“I know. Monday morning, pay yourself out three days. That should keep you going until Friday, when you can have the balance.”

She finished the rest of the coffee in her mug, then set it down on the table, keeping her hands clasped around it. “I don't understand why you're being so nice to me. Not that I don't appreciate it, because I do. It's just that no one has ever treated me like this before.” Not wanting to say so, she didn't understand his motives. Everyone always wanted something, and she was actually costing him money, with little or no chance of repayment, at least not for a very long time.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Do I need a reason? You need help, I have what you need and God put you in my path. I don't think it's any more complicated than that.” He stood. “If you're finished, we really should go.”

The drive to the church only took a few minutes, just as he'd said. There were only three other cars in the parking lot.

“It looks like Randy and Adrian beat me. Paul and Celeste aren't here yet.”

“But there are three cars.”

“That's Pastor Ron's car. He has to be here first to open up the building. Then he goes into his office to pray while everything is quiet, before everyone starts setting up for the service.”

“Oh…” She'd never thought about what happened before a Sunday-morning service.

Georgette followed Bob onto the stage area. She stood to the side and watched as he started putting the drum set together. Adrian and Randy waved, then continued laying out cords and monitors.

“Is there something I can do?”

Adrian pointed to a carrying case beside the stairs. “You can assemble the microphone stands if you want. Everyone gets one except Bob.

She turned to Bob. “Why not?”

“I can't sing while I'm playing drums, nor would you want me to. I don't sing all that well.”

Celeste arrived as Georgette finished assembling the last stand and Georgette went over to watch her set up the piano. “Have I told you how much I enjoy listening to you play? I took lessons for a year when I was a kid, but I wasn't very good. One day I took the keyboard off and was trying to figure out how the hammers were constructed and how everything worked together with the pedals, when my father discovered what I was doing and sent me to my room.” Georgette grinned. “That was the end of piano lessons for me. They had to get a tech
nician to put the piano back together, and he sold it a few days later.”

Celeste smiled back. “The electric pianos aren't quite as interesting inside, but they are portable.” She patted the corner of the unit.

Georgette turned to Randy. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Nope. But I'm sure Pastor Ron would like some help setting up chairs.”

Georgette gasped. “The pastor sets up chairs!?”

“Somebody's gotta do it—unless the congregation wants to stand or sit on the floor. That's the way it is in most organizations. Ten percent of the people do ninety percent of the work.”

“Then I think I'll go set up chairs.” She turned to Bob, who smiled his approval.

She expected Pastor Ron to be surprised at her offer, but he didn't refuse. However, when more people started arriving to help, the men took over and sent her away.

Since she no longer had anything to do, she stood to the side and watched the practice while the room started to take shape as a sanctuary. She'd never thought much about drums as an instrument, but watching the musicians go over selected parts until they got it right, she saw just how important it was for the drummer to give them the framework they needed.

When all the chairs were set up, she found a seat and waited for the service to begin.

It was very similar to the evening service, only more formal—except when the children were dismissed. They walked quietly out of the main sanctuary, but as soon as they crossed the threshold into the lobby, the
running and screaming began, fading as the horde made their way downstairs to the classrooms.

Up on the stage, Paul smiled and shook his head, and the congregation sang one more song. As Pastor Ron started speaking, the worship team quietly left the stage, and shuffled into their seats; Bob sat beside her. Just as they did in the evening service, the worship team returned to the stage during the closing prayer so they could play the last song, and then the congregation was dismissed.

The instruments and equipment were left on the stage for the evening service so Georgette joined Bob on the stage, waiting beside him while the worship team picked up their music and put everything in order. Bob's cell phone rang, and he left the noise and walked to the back, where he spoke facing the wall for some privacy. The conversation was short, which Georgette was learning was typical of Bob. Within two minutes, he had returned.

“That was my mother,” he said to the group in general. “I have to go to my parents' house for lunch. My mother wants to throw a big surprise party for my father's sixty-ninth birthday. I need to run over there for lunch, while he's out. My mother's called the family together to discuss the details, so I can't go out for lunch today.” He turned to Georgette. “When I told her that you were with me, she invited you along too.”

Georgette frowned. “A big party for his sixty-ninth? Why wouldn't she wait for a year and have something bigger for his seventieth?”

Bob grinned. “Because that's what Papa expects. Far be it from Mama to do what is expected of her.”

Celeste remained straight-faced, but Adrian, Randy and Paul all grinned, as if they knew something she didn't. Georgette turned to Celeste.

Celeste shrugged her shoulders. “I've never met Bob's mom. But I will at the wedding. Oh, that's right, I nearly forgot. We need your address, Georgette.”

“What? Why?”

Adrian slipped his arm around Celeste's waist. “Yes. We'd like to send you an invitation to the wedding, but I guess we can get your address from Bob.”

Bob's movements froze. “Yeah. Or you can just give it to me when the time comes. You've got a few months still.”

“I know,” Adrian said, “but it's best to be prepared.” He smiled down at Celeste. “I think we should get going so we can get a good table.” He turned back to Bob. “See you tonight at the evening service.”

 

Bob shifted into Park, and turned off the engine. The house blinds flickered when the car stopped, but he chose to ignore it. “This is it, my parents' house.”

“This isn't far from your house, is it? Your house is about a mile and a half that way.”

“Yes. Bart's parents live on the next block, and Bart and his wife Anna live two blocks that way. All close to work.” He pointed to the left. “Our days are long enough without adding even more driving time.”

He turned and put his hand on the door handle, but before he could open the door, George's hand on his other arm stopped him. “Why didn't you tell your friends that I've moved into your garage apartment? It was obvious they didn't know.”

He released the door handle, and turned to her. “With those guys, I have to wait until the timing is right. I figured I'd tell them on Wednesday, at practice.” Celeste wouldn't have thought anything special of it, but when
he told the guys, especially Randy, he knew he would be in for the razzing of his life.

“Does your mother know?”

“George, no one knows. It all happened so quickly, and remember, I spent most of the day on Saturday at work, like I do every Saturday. It's just that I haven't had time.” Not that he couldn't predict his mother's reaction. He had a woman living on his property. Regardless of the fact that George was living in a separate building across the entire yard, his mother would point out every possible and potential moral infraction imaginable. He knew he couldn't avoid the confrontation, however, so better sooner than later. He hoped his mother would at least lecture him in private, where George wouldn't witness it. After all, he was her boss, and he needed to maintain
some
dignity in front of her. “Let's go in. I saw the blinds move.” For the second time since the car had stopped. “Just one more thing. Sometimes my family can be a little overwhelming, so don't take anything that happens too personally.”

One eyebrow quirked, but George said nothing, so he led her up the walkway. The door opened the second his foot touched the first step.

“Hey, Rose! How's it going?” He turned to George as he stepped onto the porch near Rose. “This is my sister, Rose. Rose, this is George.”

Rose's eyes widened, she blinked a few times and backed up to allow them to enter. “Hi,” she said as they passed. “Mama is in the kitchen.”

He took Rose's hint, and walked toward the kitchen. “Hi, Tony, Gene,” he said to his two brothers, who were sitting on the couch in the living room, as he walked by.
“This is George. We have to talk to Mama. We'll be right back.”

They smiled and waved without speaking, and George did the same. Bob slowed his pace and turned his head to speak to George over his shoulder. “I guess my other sisters aren't here yet. Gene's wife, Michelle, is probably in the kitchen with Mama.”

In the background, Rose called Michelle, and as Bob and George stepped into the kitchen, Michelle passed them, nodding a greeting without stopping.

Bob's mother was stirring something on the stove.

“Hi, Mama.”

His mother turned around, smiling. She looked up at Bob, her smile fell and her gaze lowered to rest on George, all five foot four of her.

“Roberto, you told me you were bringing your new mechanic, George. I think you need to get eyeglasses with your age. You have brought a woman.”

“Mama, this
is
my new mechanic. Her name is George. George, this is my mama, Angelina Delanio.”

George stepped forward. “Hello, Mrs. Delanio,” she said smiling, as she extended one hand to his mother. Her voice dropped in pitch; she spoke evenly and in a friendly, conversational tone. Bob could see her years of fine upbringing being put to good use. “My name is really Georgette, but my friends call me George. I'd like to count you as a friend, so please, call me George. And I really am Bob's new mechanic.”

His mother reached forward and slipped her hand into George's, but instead of a handshake, George covered his mother's hand with her other, gave it a gentle squeeze, and smiled.

Bob's mother returned George's smile. “Now I have
seen everything. But this is good my son has seen a woman can do such a job.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You are doing a good job for him?”