Authors: Fern Michaels
“They closed up and left around three. It’s been real busy here today. Something wrong, Lex?”
“Hell, yes, something’s wrong. I must have called here a dozen times today and got nowhere. This sellout happened rather quickly, don’t you think?”
“Not for me to say, Lex. Mrs. Able, she wanted to go to Hawaii, is all I know. They left three days ago. The new lady owner said things would stay the same with a few changes for the betterment of the company. She was real busy today throwing away all of Mr. Able’s office stuff. A decorator come by. I hear computer and telephone people will be here tomorrow. A locksmith was here, security alarms are going in all over the place. And an electrified fence.
“Okay, Zack, that does it. See you tomorrow,” Stan said. He waved the trucker off before he fired up an evil-smelling cigar.
“Why?” The one word was like an explosion.
A look of disgust washed over Stan’s face. “Like I know? The only reason I know this much is because Bernice wanted me to put some air in her tires and she talked to me while she waited. She said the new owner is a movie star. A looker, from what I could see,” the older man said slyly.
“Jesus Christ! Does she know anything about the trucking business?”
“Don’t know. Bernice says she knows how to decorate and is spending a fortune on that. Wouldn’t be surprised if she don’t go and hang curtains in the cabs of the trucks. Now wouldn’t that be somethin’?” He guffawed, slapping his knees at the same time.
Lex Sanders pushed his Padres baseball cap back on his head. His gray eyes narrowed. “Yeah, that would be something, Stan. Maybe it’s time for me to look for another trucking company. You can pass the word along tomorrow.”
“You best be doin’ that yourself, Lex. I only got five years to go for retirement. I don’t like sticking my nose where it don’t belong. Now if you want to leave a note or a letter, I can slide it under the door.”
“That won’t be necessary. I don’t suppose you have a home phone number for the lady, do you?”
“Does the Pope wear roller skates? No, I don’t have a home phone number. Maybe the night watchman has it. He don’t come on till six. You can try calling him then.”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.”
“Now, there goes one wet hornet,” Stan muttered as Lex Sanders drove off in a grinding blast of gravel.
On the drive home to Bonsall, Lex tried to shift his angry mind into a neutral zone. He hated losing his cool, because when he got angry, the Arabians sensed it and reacted. A movie star! Damn. And Asa, going off without so much as a good-by, go to hell, or drop dead. Letters my foot. He’d always gotten mail from Asa—why wouldn’t this last notice reach him if one was even sent? It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the new sale, it wasn’t that at all. Asa was a friend, a surrogate father of sorts. Hell, he’d made him rich. “Goddammit, Asa, I deserve better than this.
Lex slouched down in the seat of his battered pickup, settled his aviator glasses more firmly on the bridge of his nose, and let his mind wander the way it always did when he came to Chula Vista. The drive down was exciting because he always hoped that somewhere along the way, or at the end of the drive, he would see Aggie Bixby. In thirty years it had never happened, but he still hoped. The trip home was always, like now, a real downer.
He wished Aggie could see him now, rich and successful and in a position to give her everything he’d ever promised. All he had left of Aggie were his memories and a tattered marriage certificate. Maybe he should have gotten a divorce. If he wasn’t a practicing Catholic, maybe he would have. It no longer mattered. At this stage in his life he wasn’t about to get married and share everything he’d busted his ass to get working twenty hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year. And he wasn’t about to share his dark secret. No one needed to know he was once a rail-thin Mexican kid born on a gringo’s kitchen floor. No one needed to know that after giving birth his mother went back to scrubbing and polishing. No one needed to know that Arnold Sanders sent him to agriculture school and left him his tiny eleven-acre avocado ranch, providing it was always known as the Sanders Ranch. He’d agreed and even took the name Sanders to make life easier. And why not? His father had moved the whole family to Bonsall to work for Sanders. They’d all lived in two cramped trailers tending to the groves and to the Sanders family. His sisters and aunts had cleaned their houses and his brothers and father had maintained the ranch and the animals. He was the only one who had benefited directly. He’d gotten a fine education and now owned over ten thousand acres of avocado groves. He grew lettuce and broccoli on another ten thousand acres and raised Arabian horses. He wished his parents were alive to reap the benefits of all his hard work. He wished Aggie was here so he could shower her with everything he’d. promised. He closed his eyes for one brief moment. A vision of Aggie in her white dress and the flower crown he’d woven for her made his eyes water. So long ago. Another life. Why hadn’t she ever tried to find him the way he’d tried to find her? He couldn’t remember the exact time he’d finally given up. He just knew it was a very long time ago. In his mind, he tried to picture the way she’d look today. She’d had such glorious long, brown hair that curled at the ends and soft, dark eyes. He’d seen dolls later in life who had complexions like Aggie’s. He’d even bought some of the dolls for his nieces, but they weren’t half as pretty as Aggie had been. He’d asked the salesgirl if she’d put pink hair ribbons in the dolls’ hair because Aggie always wore pink ribbons.
Damn, thirty years was too long to carry a torch for a teenage love affair. “Guess that makes me a one-woman man. You need to say good-by to Aggie Bixby the way you said good-by to Felix Sanchez. Easier said than done,” he muttered.
A long time later, his thoughts in a turmoil, Lex headed for the nearest restaurant for a quick bite before heading back to Bonsall. It was a steak house known for its charbroiled New York rib eyes and twice-baked potatoes. He usually ordered two of everything. The waitress, a coy blonde, flirted openly as she ignored the two women sitting across from him in a dim corner. To Lex’s experienced eye, the waitress looked like she’d been rode hard and hung up wet. He did his best to be polite without being rude. “Two bottles of Bud Ice.”
Across the room, Ariel Hart seethed as she tried unsuccessfully to get the waitress’s attention. “Five more minutes and I’m getting the manager. I know how busy a waitress can be and how they have to hustle, but when said waitress is flirting with a guy, that makes me mad. The man doesn’t seem to be responding, so what’s her problem?”
“Why don’t
we
flirt with him? He’s handsome enough,” Dolly said. “He’s looking at us and his eyes are apologetic. Did you see that little thing he did with his eyebrows? He’s flirting with you, Ariel. Flirt back. He looks rugged. Get a gander at those boots and jeans. Working man. Wears a baseball cap. You love men with dark, curly hair. So it has a little gray in it. So does yours under that Clairol stuff you put on it. Look how much you already have in common.”
“Stop it, Dolly. We came in here to eat so you wouldn’t have to cook this evening.”
“Miss! Miss!” Ariel had never snapped her fingers at anyone, but she did so now. When she had the waitress’s attention, she said, “We’ve been sitting here for almost twenty minutes and we were here before that gentleman. If you’re too busy, we can go somewhere else or I can call your manager and see what he can do.”
“Ladies, I’m sorry, please accept my apology. My food can wait. Serve the ladies and give me their check. I insist,” Lex said to the waitress.
“That’s not necessary,” Ariel demurred. Dolly was right, he was handsome as sin.
“Oh, but it is. If I was in your position, and I have been, I’d be mad as a hornet. I insist.”
Ariel smiled. “Thank you, you’re very generous.”
Lex turned back to his newspaper, but his mind wasn’t on the front page, it was on the pretty woman with the waterfall of blond hair sitting in the corner. He should have gotten up and joined them. The only problem was, he wasn’t much on casual conversation and they might think he was trying to pick them up. He felt his neck grow warm. He could have gotten at least fifteen minutes worth of conversation with the Padres baseball cap. He was wearing one and there was one on the table, which meant one of the women was wearing it. Probably the blonde, since her hair was mashed down on the top of her head. The lady with the pigtail probably didn’t wear a hat. For someone who doesn’t know much about women you certainly are observant, he chided himself.
He liked the sound of her voice when she ordered her meal. “Porterhouse steak, charred but medium rare, large, twice-baked potato, corn, string beans, applesauce, and we’ll have two bottles of Coors Light. Chips and salsa with the beer. My friend will have the same.” A woman after his own heart. He smiled and wished there was someone in the steak house who knew both of them so he could wangle an introduction. Always the last one out of the gate, Sanders. He tried to concentrate on the problems in the Middle East. Maybe they’d stop by his table when they left. He lit a cigarette and noticed they were smoking, too. That made things easier. This was, after all, the smoking section, one of the few restaurants in California that still allowed smoking. It was one of the reasons he ate here from time to time. He grinned when he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that both women drank from the bottle. He tried again to concentrate on the front page of the paper. His feet itched to move closer to their table.
Across the room, the women covertly watched the man with the newspaper as they munched on chips and salsa. They ordered a second beer. “He reminds me of someone, but I don’t know who,” Ariel whispered.
“If you knew someone like that, I’d remember. Unless, of course, you don’t tell me everything. That’s a
man
. Back in Hollywood the actors looked like that, but off the screen they were
wusses.
I think we should stop by his table and thank him on the way out. You know, hold out your hand, introduce yourself, and thank him for dinner.”
“I can’t do that. Besides, I already thanked him. Stop matchmaking. He’ll think we’re trying to pick him up like that waitress. There’s two of us. God, he might think . . . No, one thank-you is enough. Here’s our food. Look, she’s got his on the tray, too. That means he’ll probably finish when we do. If we leave at the same time we can say something casual then. Eat,” Ariel ordered, clearly frustrated with the scenario she’d just created.
“Who do you think he reminds you of?”
“I don’t know. Someone who’s passed through my life. I’m pretty good with faces, but I’m not good with names. It doesn’t matter. I’m really tired, Dolly. I can’t wait to get out of here and home to a hot bath.”
“Me, too. I’m almost too tired to eat. Am I going to give you a computer lesson tonight or do you want to get up early tomorrow? Guess what I learned today. We got an order to pick up twenty thousand Coke bottles. But, they aren’t the real bottles you see in the store—they’re like test tubes and our driver takes them to where they get blown into bottles. Interesting, huh? And a pickup came in for us to haul forty-two thousand pounds of butter cookies. Pickups come in all the time. Tomorrow we have to pick up a load of Guess? jeans and take them to the place where they get stone-washed. The things you learn. I say we skip dessert.”
“Okay, I’m ready, but I have to use the ladies’ room. Where is it?”
“Over there,” Dolly said, pointing to Ariel’s left. “Guess we can leave by that entrance. Which means we either walk over to that guy’s table or we forget it.”
“Let’s decide after we use the ladies’ room. Two beers don’t allow me to stand around and chitchat.”
“He’s gone,” Dolly said.
Outside, in the darkness, a dark pickup backed up, turned, and crawled past them. “It’s him,” Dolly said. “Do something. His window looks like it’s down.”
“Thanks for dinner,” Ariel shouted. “That was very kind of you.”
“My pleasure,” the man said as he drove off.
“I know that voice or one that sounds like it. When I least expect it, it’ll come to me. Time to go home, Dolly.”
“Bet you dream about that guy tonight,” Dolly said.
“Bet I don’t.”
“Bet you do!”
“That’s a sucker bet and you know it,” Ariel giggled, “but I’ll take it.”
“You’re on, Miz Ariel Hart.”
It was almost like old times, when Ariel was one of the prettiest actresses in Hollywood.
Almost.
“The morning will be fine.”
Lex saddled up one of his Arabians, a stallion named KO for King Omar. He cantered away from the barn before giving the stallion his head. The horse pounded over the hard ground, his hooves spewing up clumps of dark brown sod. Go, KO, drive these demons from my head. “Go, boy, go!”
Four
The grand unveiling of Able Body Trucking’s new offices was scheduled, ironically, for Valentine’s Day. “It’s probably an omen of some kind and I’m too stupid to see it,” Ariel said as she fit the key into the brand new lock on the office door. It was six o’clock in the morning and she was shivering, as was Dolly. “Maybe we should have stayed yesterday, but it was ten o’clock and I was too tired. I’m still tired.” She was grumbling, and she hated herself for acting this way. “The carpet people promised to place all the furniture. I paid extra for that little contribution. The florist said she’d be here a little before five, or as soon as she can after she gets back from the wholesale market. So . . . I say let’s open this door and hope everything is the way I want it to be.”
It was everything she wanted it to be and more. The meadow green carpet seemed thicker and more lush than she’d remembered. The vertical blinds, with a thread of meadow green running lengthwise, were a perfect complement to the luxurious carpet. The light oak desk and hunter green leather chair brought the room together. The deep, comfortable client chairs in front of the desk were covered in a nubby green fabric that felt silky to the touch. Feathery green ferns nestled on oak pedestals in all the corners. A shiny-leaf plant in a red. clay pot sat on the corner of Ariel’s desk, right next to the brand new computer she didn’t know how to use. A smaller room, next to Ariel’s office, was Dolly’s office. The furnishings were identical, right down to the computer and plant on her desk.
Dolly’s braid swished back and forth as she bounced up and down on her ergonomic chair. “This is all pretty nice, but neither of us knows diddly-squat about computers. Those women in the outer office don’t know anything, either. We could probably run this company into the ground with very little effort.”
“We’ll be computer literate inside of a week. We’re going to . . . to . . . input all that stuff in those boxes into the computer. We can do this, Dolly. Think positive.”
“I
am
thinking. When are we going to fit this into our schedule? We have truck driving lessons every morning. We have firearms in the afternoon and martial arts lessons. We’ll be too tired in the evenings to absorb anything. You have to pay attention when you’re on a computer. One of the characters on my soap opera erased a whole folder full of numbered Swiss bank accounts.
‘Gone
’
!”
she said dramatically.
“ ‘Millions down the drain
’
!”
“That’s not going to happen to us. We’ll schedule the computer lessons for early in the morning at my house. We’ll pay the girls for their travel time and the time they spend on the class. I think that’s fair. The lessons can start at seven, after we have breakfast. Nothing fancy, whatever you feel in the mood to make. Supper’s leftovers.”
“Who’s going to be in the office? Somebody needs to be here. Think about this—I make breakfast and then I go to the office. Maybe they have another teacher who can train me there. See if you can find one with a lot of patience who won’t mind interruptions. Phone’s ringing, Ariel.”
“I know. I just don’t know which buttons to press. There should be a manual here someplace.”
“By the time you find it, we’ll have lost an account. Press all of them and see what happens.”
Ariel did as instructed. She pressed button after button and said “Able Body Trucking” six times before she heard a voice on the other end of the line. “Yes, Mr. Sanders.” She listened politely. “It’s ten minutes past six, Mr. Sanders. We don’t open until seven. I think it’s wonderful that Mr. Able was in the office at five in the morning. I’m not Mr. Able. The schedule is on the door. I believe Mr. Able put it there himself. Our hours are seven to seven. The dispatcher’s office is open twenty-four hours a day. It’s commendable that you rise at four in the morning. I get up at six the way most people do and I’ll be .here at seven. Now, what is it you want? I’m probably not going to be able to help you, anyway. We’re undergoing renovations here and all the paperwork is . . . is being . . . fed into a computer. You can, however, check with Stanley or the dispatcher. Yes, he is a bit of a curmudgeon, but he’s a loyal curmudgeon and it’s my understanding that he knows everything there is to know about Able Body Trucking. Lunch? I can’t. I’m too busy. I’m booked up until the middle of June, lunchwise that is. No, I’m not putting you on. Of course we can accommodate you on delivery. Tell me what you want. I can’t make arrangements unless you’re specific. Yes, I have a pencil.”
“As usual, his problem is not earth-shattering and he could have called the dispatcher. You know something, Dolly? He has this strange voice—it reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who. Actually, it’s kind of sexy.” Her hand flew to her cheek in a purely reflex motion. Dolly turned away. “He invited me to lunch. I said no. He probably wants preferential treatment and wants to butter me up. Not likely.” Her thumb caressed the indentation in her cheek and then moved down to the cleft in her chin. “Not likely.”
“You know, Ariel, he is this company’s biggest client. You should give this man a little more consideration. What if he takes his business elsewhere?”
“And do you think another company will put up with him?”
“Money’s money. People shape up real good when greenbacks are involved. A smaller company might have the time to coddle him.”
“That’s like paying a maître d’ for a table in a restaurant.”
“And you’ve never done that? Get real, Ariel. I say you should meet him for lunch or coffee the next time he’s in town and lay down the ground rules. When he understands, he might fall into line. If he doesn’t, you tried. Unless, of course, you’re afraid to meet him.” Her voice was sly sounding, her eyes just as sly looking. She watched as Ariel continued to massage the pink scars on her face.
“I’ll give it some thought. Don’t get any match-making ideas, Dolly. The first rule of business, as anyone knows, is don’t mix business with pleasure. Let’s make some coffee and get the inventory started.”
They worked steadily until the office staff arrived. They were rewarded with exclamations of delight that sent shivers up and down their spines. “I guess that means we did good,” Ariel said, and smiled.
“This can’t be the same place I’ve worked in for ten years,” the freckle-faced Bernice said “That computer looks like a machine from hell. I’m getting nervous just looking at it.”
“Not to worry,” Ariel said blithely. “Here’s the plan. But, first I want to ask all of you something. Do any of you want to learn how to drive these rigs? If you do, the company will pay for the course. Even if you never drive on the open road, having the license will be a plus. If the truckers ever go on strike we’ll have it covered to a degree. This is in no way mandatory. The course starts today at nine o’clock. We can call in a temporary agency to work here mornings until we get through it. Inventory is a bitch, as you well know. And, putting all this stuff into these computers is going to take some expertise. I say we go for it.”
“Okay, count us in,” Bernice said, speaking for the others.
“Will the guys start calling us ‘the good old girls’?” someone asked.
“Will we have to learn how to park those rigs? I can’t even parallel park my car,” another said.
“Guess we’ll find all that out this morning. Dolly’s going to call the temp office so each of you get out your work for the day and have it ready. The computer people loaded your program so a knowledgeable person shouldn’t have any trouble.”
“Who’s our boss?” Bernice asked. “What I mean is, if we ever go out on the road, who do we answer to?”
“Me!” Ariel said smartly. Her heart was pounding so furiously she thought it would jump right out of her chest. She was taking charge, and she was damn well going to make all of this work. She gave herself a mental shake when she saw an eighteen-wheeler glide past the wide double windows. It looked like an untamed monster. She remembered a trucking movie with Jan Michael Vincent called
White Line Fever.
She also remembered rooting for the actor and cursing the bad guys, who just happened to be other truckers. That was a movie. This was real life. Things like that didn’t happen in real life. Maybe she’d call Jan and ask him where he did his research for the role. When she had time.
Promptly at 8:45, the women piled into the company van and headed for their instruction course five miles away. As they were exiting the lot, Bernice shouted from the back seat, “Lordy, lordy, there goes Mr. Sanders. Bet he gives that temporary an Excedrin headache. Do you want to hear something funny?” Not bothering to wait for a reply, she continued, “Mr. Sanders rarely comes down here, but he’s been here several times recently. He does call all the time and he did go to Mr. Able’s for dinners and such, but he hardly ever came here. It seems strange to me. Maybe he’s frightened of you, Miss Hart. A big guy like him, frightened of a little slip of a thing like you. It’s just too funny.”
Ariel adjusted the brim of her Padres baseball cap lower over her forehead. She found herself tugging at a lock of hair over her ear so that it would partially cover her cheek. Her heart was pounding again and she didn’t know why. In the whole of her life, to her knowledge, no one had ever been frightened of her. Bernice was being silly. Too silly to even think about.
“Stop doing that,” Dolly hissed. “People tend to stare more, trying to figure out what you’re hiding. Stick that hair back under your cap. That’s an order, Ariel.”
“Nag, nag, nag.” But Ariel did as instructed.
“And stop touching your face. Every time I see you doing it from now on, I’m giving you a good swat. It’s there, it isn’t going away. Life goes on, Ariel. Live with it. End of sermon.”
“Thank you. As usual, you’re right. He was rather handsome, wasn’t he? Reminds me of that guy who paid for our dinner the other night. He was driving a truck, too. Maybe it’s him.”
“You noticed.”
“I would notice anyone doing eighty miles an hour over a stop ramp.”
“Jeez, we’re among the living again. Thank you, God,” Dolly said.
Thank
you,
Dolly,“ Ariel whispered under her breath.
Ariel swerved the van into the trucking lot. “This is it, ladies. Take a good look, but make it quick because in less than ten minutes you’ll be behind the wheel of that mother. Looking at these trucks from our window is one thing, sitting behind the wheel is something else. Are we ready?”
God, she was enjoying this. She felt really alive for the first time in years. How much the feeling had to do with returning to Chula Vista and how much it had to do with a man named Lex Sanders, she didn’t know.
“We’re ready!”
“Hmmmnn,” Lex Sanders mused as he brought his pickup to a stop outside the dispatcher’s office. “Tell me something, Bucky,” he said to the gravelly-voiced dispatcher. “Was that the new owner in the van?”
“Sure was. Strange lady. But a nice lady. I just got done sneakin.’ a look at the new office decorations. I ain’t no expert, but my wife buys furniture from time to time and we don’t have nothin’ as good as that lady put in them offices. Shiny green plants, colored ashtrays, fine pictures on the wall. You can see out of them windows now. She tossed out Asa’s safe and had a spiffy new one put in the wall. There’s an alarm system, computers, a fancy-dancy telephone with all kinds of buttons. Chairs look comfortable. There’s a person in there now, bangin’ away at the computer. Wait till you see that carpet. Makes you want to take off your shoes and wiggle your toes. Real pretty.” He spit a wad of tobacco juice out the door before he reached for his cup of coffee that was so dirty and cruddy, Lex knew it had never seen soap or water.
“Who’s operating the office?” Lex’s expression was baffled.
The dispatcher grinned. “A machine answers the phone and a lady’s doing somethin’ with that computer.”
“I’ll be damned! Is she really a movie star?”
“That’s what they say. I ain’t never seen her up close. Spoke to her on the phone. Seemed real nice. Asked me if I needed anythin’. Her assistant brought me a real nice lunch the other day. Good cook. This ain’t my business, but seein’ as how Mr. Able thought so much of you as a friend and customer, you should know Chet’s stirrin’ up trouble. I heard—and I ain’t sure I should even be mentionin’ this, but I’m gonna do it anyway—I heard he’s goin’ after the rancher’s workers, stirrin’ them up, too. Best keep your eyes and ears open. Ain’t nothin’ worse than a wildcat walkout. Don’t even matter what the reason is.”
“Maybe the new owner will fire him. Asa seemed to think he needed him. He’s trouble and I think Chet is one of the reasons Asa sold out. He didn’t want to be hassled anymore.”
“Asa left this letter for you. I been holdin’ it till you got here. Asa felt real bad.”
Lex sighed. Suddenly he no longer felt betrayed. Asa hadn’t turned on him and gone off without saying good-by. He now regretted his surly attitude with the new owner. He could make that right on his way back to the ranch. He’d stop and have some flowers sent to Ms. Ariel Hart. Small white orchids mixed with those little popcorn balls, the kind of flowers Aggie used to like. Hang it up already, Lex. Stop living in the past. Send the lady a dozen roses and be done with it, he admonished himself. Invite her out to a nice dinner and make peace. You need her trucking company. You might even like her. Better yet, she might like you.
Highly unlikely. He was talking to himself something he hated doing, yet he did it almost every day of his life. He was his own best friend, his only confidant. Why, he didn’t know. On the other hand, maybe he did know and didn’t want to deal with it. It was that old Mexican thing. The old mores: you Mexican, me gringo. Know your place, Mex. Don’t step out of line. He’d worked his ass off and gotten his degree and then, because a very kind man believed in him, he’d stepped over the line. Because . . . because he’d received an American inheritance and an American name.
Damn, he’d almost missed the flower shop. He ground to a halt, his tires smoking on the asphalt. For a moment he felt befuddled. The windows of the flower shop were covered with red hearts, cupids with arrows, and trailing ribbons. “Valentine’s Day!” He groaned. A bell tinkled over the door as he walked through. A day for lovers. He felt like groaning again.