by June Faver
“Aren’t you going to open your mail?”
“But all this… I mean, it’s just so much. We usually only get a couple of letters per week and a few emails, of course.”
He leaned closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Maybe it’s hate mail.”
“Well, I certainly hope not.” She reached in the top drawer for a letter opener and ripped the first one open.
Dear Irene,
I really enjoyed this past week’s column. You seem to be so much more attuned to the problems Mike and Bev wrote in about. Maybe more compassionate than usual. This gave me the courage to write about the problem I’m having with my neighbor. He’s hard of hearing and leaves his dog outside at night. Then he falls asleep in front of the television. The poor dog barks, and I can’t get to sleep. I don’t want to cause a problem, but how do I let my neighbor know it’s bothering me without putting a strain on our relationship?
Sincerely,
Lucille
“Hmm… This sounds simple enough,” she said.
“Simple for you, but not poor Lucille.”
She had to smile at that.
He tossed another letter toward her. “Try this one.”
She slit it open and found another complimentary letter telling her that she had approached Mike’s problem with kindness and that her suggestions were right on.
“Well, that was nice,” she said.
“Good job.”
She found herself glowing under his praise. She swallowed hard. This was not the way she had planned to deal with him. She wasn’t some simpering schoolgirl melting into his green eyes.
She sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “And what brings you to the Gazette today?” She cringed at her own words, knowing he had a right to be there every day if he saw fit. He owns the building…
“I thought of some things that might help your bottom line.” A wide grin spread across his face. “I had some ideas for your sales staff. Are they here today or out in the field?”
“Sales staff? You mean Elvis Nordheim? He sells the ad space.”
A twitch of his lips that might have been a smile glimmered for a moment and disappeared. He sat down on the edge of her desk and leaned toward her. “Well, do you want to have a meeting with old Elvis?”
Reggie nodded and punched his extension into her phone. “Elvis, could you come into my office for a moment? Mr. Bell wants to meet with you.” The silence on the other end of the line was like a vacuum sucking at her ear. “Elvis? Are you there?”
“Yes… I’m here… I mean, I’ll be right there.” He hung up abruptly.
She moistened her lips and smiled at Frank, wondering what he had in mind for Elvis and if this would result in the loss of yet another longtime employee.
When a timid knock on the door heralded Elvis’s arrival, she called for him to enter. The door swung open, and a pale, terrified version of Elvis Nordheim stepped into the office.
She pointed to one of the cushy leather chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat, Elvis.”
Elvis was probably not forty yet, but his large, owlish glasses and receding hairline gave him a perpetually “middle-aged” appearance. The collar of his somewhat wrinkled white shirt was open, revealing a rather unattractive Adam’s apple in his ropy neck. His arms, hanging out of the short sleeves, seemed too long for his body, but that was probably because his pants were too big and belted way too high. He managed a tentative smile as he shuffled toward the chair.
Frank stepped forward, offering his hand. “Frank Bell,” he said.
Elvis stared at the hand before grasping it. His lips moved, but she couldn’t make out his response.
“Elvis has been with the Gazette for almost fifteen years,” she offered brightly, not sure if this tenure would matter much to a man who leased everything. Did he value loyalty, or was he focused only on immediate results? There was a silence that followed her statement. Neither man spoke. She cleared her throat. “Elvis is responsible for maintaining all the accounts.”
Frank nodded. “Is that so?” He turned to Elvis with a cheery expression. “I was driving around yesterday, just checking out some of the changes that have occurred since I left town, and I thought of some things that might beef up sales…”
There was no response from Elvis. He sat, as though paralyzed, his eyes glazed with fright.
“Maybe you might want to show me a list of all the current accounts? I’d like to know who your advertisers are.”
Elvis nodded and mumbled something unintelligible, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“No hurry,” Frank said. “Maybe by later today…”
A strangled sound gurgled out of his throat. He leaped up and made for the door, nodding and mumbling as he traversed the distance. The glass panel in the door rattled as he closed it behind himself.
Frank looked at her, appearing puzzled. “Was it something I said?”
She made a scoffing noise and folded her arms across her chest. “I think you scared the daylights out of him. Please stop terrorizing the staff. I can’t do all the jobs by myself.”
He surprised her by flashing a boyish grin. “Yeah, you probably could.” He returned to his position perched on the edge of her desk. “Don’t you think the paper would function better with staff that was a little more…alive?”
“Elvis is alive.” She heard the defensive note in her own voice.
He snorted. “Barely. Not exactly what one thinks of as an extrovert salesman type.”
“Well…” She cast about for some strong defensive argument but found none. “Well, he’s been working here for almost fifteen years.”
Frank arched an eyebrow at her. “I see.” He shrugged and slid off her desk. “I’m just trying to support you, Reggie. I’m not going to stick around for this, but when he brings you the list, why don’t you challenge him to bring in one brand-new account by the end of the week? That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”
She nodded grudgingly. “I suppose.”
“And I’ll leave so I don’t terrify your staff.” He winked at her and grinned as though this was the funniest thing in the world. “By the way, you look…great today.”
She felt herself coloring and stammered her thanks. As he slipped out the door, it was as though he took all the oxygen with him. She watched from her office window as he stepped outside the building. He stretched his broad chest, and the expanse of muscles showing off under the knit shirt caused her to gape.
“Oh, my!” Her breath caught in her throat.
He walked purposefully to his car and then hopped in without opening the door.
Reggie wondered why every encounter with Frank Bell left her feeling both irritated in his presence and empty after he left.
* * *
Frank cruised through town again. He had already made a list of potential advertisers, but he didn’t want to offer it to the ultra-sensitive Elvis.
Frank kind of liked that Reggie was so protective of her staff… But she still saw him as the enemy. He wished he could break through that wall she had erected around herself.
Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe she built the wall around me. This seemed appropriate since everyone else seemed to be on her good side and only he was out in the cold.
He was glad he’d been on hand to witness her opening her fan letters. She needed to know that she had talent, that she could make a difference in people’s lives.
He drew a deep breath and blew it out. She had plenty of compassion for the weak and downtrodden… For the defenseless, she would rise up like a mama tiger protecting her young.
A smile flicked across his face. She needs to see me as a sympathetic character, not as her oppressor. How can I get there from here?
How could a girl who would marry the school bully possibly think of Frank as terrifying? He unconscio
usly shook his head.
How can I make her like me? He blew out another deep breath. How can I make her stop hating me?
A slim scrap of an idea was coming into focus on the back of Frank’s brain. If he could pull this off, maybe he could get Reggie Lee herself to tell him how to get through her defenses.
* * *
Later that afternoon, when Elvis presented her with the full record of all their advertisers, Reggie Lee had to admit that it was a pitifully small list. And there were no recent additions, many advertisers having accounts for almost all of Elvis’s fifteen years. Apparently he just made the rounds to drink coffee with the advertisers and see if they had any changes in their weekly promotions.
Her stomach quaked as she contemplated how best to tell him he needed to get on the ball.
He sat across from her, still looking a bit nervous but a lot more centered than he had earlier when Frank was holding court.
“Um, I want you to find a new account by the end of the week,” she said.
“Yeah, like that will ever happen.” He rolled his eyes.
“Elvis, I’m not kidding. You need to go out and sign up a new account by Friday.”
He gripped the armrests. Leaning forward, his eyes seemed to bulge out at her from behind his glasses. “What if I can’t? Am I going to be fired?”
“I’m just challenging you to go out and find one new account.” She realized she had used Frank’s words, but they did seem to define the situation better than any she could come up with. “I know that mostly you just call up our longtime advertisers to take their renewals, but this is serious, Elvis. You need to get out there and find a new customer right away. We’re trying to turn this business around.”
He appeared to be strangling.
“You can do it, Elvis. This is your job. It’s what you do.” She smiled at him brightly…too brightly. “You’re the point man.”
“I—I don’t know. I’ve had the same accounts forever. How can I…?” He left off abruptly.
“It’s going to be okay. Just find one new account. There are quite a few new businesses in town. I’m sure you can find one that will advertise with us.”
He gazed at her as though she had suggested he grow another head.
She grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
He climbed out of the depths of the leather chair and stood, an uncertain frown on his face. Then he surprised her by flashing a grim smile and giving a thumbs-up in return.
She wanted to hug him. “Go for it, Elvis!”
He straightened his narrow shoulders and marched out of her office.
Reggie Lee’s hands still shook when she reached for the stack of unopened letters. This being-the-boss thing isn’t so tough.
* * *
“Excuse me!”
Gayle looked up from her computer screen to see a young couple at the front desk. The man had a baby in a pouch attached to his chest.
She pushed her chair back and approached them with a wide smile. She had not seen them in town before. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”
“I sure hope so,” the young woman said. “We’re looking for an apartment and haven’t seen anything here in town.”
The young man leaned his elbows on the countertop. “We have driven all over, street by street. Are there any apartment buildings in the town of Rambling?”
Gayle sucked in a breath. “Um, not really. Mrs. Henson turned her garage into a real garage apartment, but I think she’s had the same renter for about a hundred years.”
To her dismay, the young woman burst into tears.
“What kind of town doesn’t have any apartments? We can’t even find a place to live.” Her voice rose a whole octave as other Gazette employees stopped what they were doing to stare.
Gayle grabbed a couple of tissues off her desk and offered them to the woman. “I’m so sorry. If you’ll leave your contact information, I’ll do some research and see if I can find you a place. What are you looking for?”
While the woman mopped up her face, her husband provided some details. He was with the Texas Fish and Wildlife Agency and had just been assigned to this district.
“I think there is a trailer park in the next town to the south. It’s only about ten miles away.” Gayle cringed when the young woman burst into a new round of tears.
“A trailer park! I don’t want to live in a trailer park.”
The man put his arm around her and led her from the Gazette office.
Gayle made a silent vow to find the young couple a place to live…and not in a trailer park.
* * *
Frank pulled into the national franchise coffee shop where he stopped to purchase coffee each morning. He was becoming a regular here. He wondered why they didn’t advertise in the Gazette, but it wasn’t his job to find out. Give old Elvis a chance.
He nodded to the barista, who rattled off his usual order. He paid and took his coffee to a table by the window. Definitely a thriving business.
He set his laptop on the table and logged on to the Wi-Fi. He logged in to an account he kept for making anonymous inquiries and began to compose his letter.
Dear Irene,
You’re my only hope. I’m so miserable, I’m head over heels…
He snickered as he tried to picture her face when she read his letter. Smiling to himself, he continued. When he was done, he read it over and tweaked it a bit.
This should get her attention. His finger hovered over the key for a moment, and then he hit send.
Done! Now all I have to do is be patient and wait.
He picked up the paper container and sipped the hot brew. Unfortunately, patience was not one of Frank Bell’s virtues. He questioned his own motives and wasn’t sure of the answers. He wasn’t quite certain why he was trying to get close to a woman who had hated him since early adolescence. He didn’t know why it was important for him to win her over, but it was. He envisioned her dark eyes and pouty-baby lips. Lips he dreamed about kissing. He dreamed about her mane of blonde hair, loose and tangled after a strenuous bout of lovemaking.
He snapped to attention, realizing his surroundings and what he had just thought. He wanted to bed the lovely Reggie Lee Stafford. What was that all about? Was that all? Somehow, he knew there was more, but he refused to explore that issue. He would concentrate on making Reggie Lee his official girlfriend…his lover. He would court her and win her heart and her luscious body…and she would tell him exactly how to seduce her.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Reggie Lee was running late.
Shannon had dumped over her entire bowl of Cheerios and milk. She had to be cleaned up and re-dressed.
Reggie’s dad was grumpy because his magazine got drenched.
Reggie Lee hadn’t had time to do much with herself except run a brush through her hair before buckling Shannon into her car seat and heading for the day care center. Once there, Shannon had turned clingy, clasping Reggie around the knees and bawling.
“Shannon, Mommy will be back after work. You love to play with Miss Jill and the children.” But her words fell on deaf ears and wailing lungs. By the time Miss Jill was able to distract her and allow Reggie Lee to slip out, she was seriously late to work.
She tried to keep breathing as she neared the Gazette office, but when she pulled into the parking lot, her heart nearly stopped. Frank Bell’s silver BMW sat parked close to the front door.
Oh, no! Not today. I definitely can’t take a dose of Frank Bell on top of everything else. She turned off the ignition and sucked in a deep breath. I am the editor of this paper. I will not be intimidated.
When she pushed through the front door, she found a circle of her employees clustered around Frank, who was in the middle of regaling them with some story.
When he saw her, he quipped, “Better look busy. The boss is here.
” There was a titter of laughter, and everyone drifted away, leaving Frank and Elvis sitting together.
“Thanks for the tip, Frank,” Elvis said. “I’ll call on that coffee shop first thing.”
Reggie did a double take. What had happened to terrified Elvis, the one who couldn’t speak intelligibly in front of the man who owned the building? Now they were chatting as though they were old pals.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she breathed.
Elvis grinned, giving her a wink and a thumbs-up.
Frank stood up. His gaze flicked over her figure before reaching her eyes. He reached for a bag containing coffee from that same coffee shop where he always stopped.
Weasel. She didn’t know what his game was, but she sure wasn’t going to let him set Elvis up for failure. Did the coffee shop manager have the authority to advertise in the local newspaper? Elvis deserved some respect. After all, Elvis had worked there fifteen years.
Reggie Lee pasted on a smile. “Were you looking for me?” she asked with forced pleasantness.
He winked. “Nah, I just dropped by to intimidate your employees.”
Obviously. “Well, you’re doing a good job. They looked terrified.” She turned and led the way to her office with Frank following close behind.
“I’m not a scary guy, Reggie,” he whispered.
Oh, yeah. Right. She bit her lower lip. “Oh, I am so late. I had a rough start with Shannon this morning.”
His expression sobered. “Reggie, I don’t think you’re on a time clock here. You’re the boss.” He handed her a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “And thanks for giving Elvis the lead on the coffee shop.”
He shrugged away her thanks. “I just figured they should give me a return on the money I’m investing with them.”
“Good idea.” Heart thumping wildly, she sat down and rolled her chair under her desk. How could he be so considerate this early in the morning?
He saluted her with his cardboard cup. “You put in plenty of time on the job.”
