She sighed and plunked herself down in front of the computer. Get to work and quit daydreaming. If he calls, great. If he shows, greater. If not. Chalk up another one in the loser column.
Several hours and as many cups of tea later, she twisted in her chair, trying to pull out the kinks. She headed for another potty stop, then on to the kitchen to check out the fridge. She dragged a hand through hair that wore the dragged hands look and whooshed out a breath. Harley stopped at the back door, glanced over his shoulder and when she didn’t respond, gave a gentle woof reminder.
“Just a minute.” She pulled a bag of grated cheese and another of flour tortillas from the interior and set them on the counter. The dog woofed again, sharper this time. “I’m coming, you know patience is a virtue.” His wagging tail bruised her shins as she passed him to open the door. “I should get you a doggy door but half the wildlife of the area could come in without invitation if I did.” Ears flapping, he charged down the steps and across the back lawn to the doggy area she’d covered in wood chips. Her backyard really needed some help, as in tearing out the summer annuals and weeds that littered the curved beds. A rose camellia dropped rain-rusted petals on the bark underneath the shrub, the boxwood next to it wearing dying camellia blossoms among the small evergreen leaves. Perhaps she should hire someone to come in and do fall cleanup before spring came.
“Come on, Harley, I have work to do.”
Bassets lose their hearing when their nose snuffles ground smells. She knew that to be so. But hope springs eternal and all that. “Harley! If I have to come get you…” He’d always ignored her dire threats and today was no different. “Fine.” She shut the door and returned to fix her lunch, spreading cheese on the tortilla, putting it on a paper towel and into the microwave.
A sharp bark announced the dog’s change of mind.
“Now you have to wait.”
The phone rang. Could it be him? Mr. Sam Elliott look-alike himself? She crossed her fingers, all the while scolding herself for being so childish. “Blythe’s Graphics. How can I help you?” She made sure her smile was in place. “Hi, Mom. No, sorry I haven’t checked my machine. Forgot to.” She cradled the phone between ear and shoulder and pulled her quesadilla from the oven, all the while mentally castigating herself for not checking the machine. She always checked the machine immediately upon returning home. After all, some important client might have called.
But when she checked the display of her answering machine, one call, and that would have been her mother’s, was all there was. She listened to her mother, juggled the hot food onto a plate, and poured herself tea over ice. “I know, but there is no chance I can come this weekend. Mom, I’m sorry.” She ignored her mother’s remonstrances. “I know it’s my birthday tomorrow…I’m going to skip it this year. Listen to me, please. I have work to do, as in some very important, very tight deadlines including the programs for the singing Christmas tree, so I am gluing myself to my chair. Make me a list and I’ll see how I can fit it in. No, I cannot go out to the Christmas tree farm with the entire family.” I’m not putting up a tree, I’m either canceling or postponing Christmas this year. But she didn’t dare tell her mother that—yet.
“I’m sorry.” She rolled her eyes skyward. What part of no didn’t her mother understand? Understand? Ha, she didn’t even hear it. “Look, I’ve had my break and I have to get back to work. Call you soon. Bye.” Blythe hung up the phone on her mother’s stutter and, plate in one hand, glass in the other, paused at the door, juggled, let the dog in and headed for her office. Harley danced at her side, his happy grin telling her he was sure going to enjoy sharing the treat she’d made. She set the food on the desk and herself in the chair, tapping the space bar to call up her work again.
Nothing. She moved the mouse. Nothing. The screen had frozen. “Not today!” Her shriek made Harley drop to the floor, eyes pleading as only basset eyes can, tail barely brushing the carpet.
“Okay, Blythe, take a deep breath, that’s right, let it out, shoulders relaxed.” That was about as helpful as moving the mouse. She followed her instructions once more and felt a bit of air between her shoulders and her ears. Again. If only her heart would settle down like her shoulders were doing.
She swallowed, ordered herself again to relax and hit control, alt, delete. Right, her program was not responding; now wasn’t that a surprise? Control, alt, delete again and nothing happened. Not today, please not today. I should have defragged it. Okay, Lord please fix this thing and not later, but right now. I need to work today. She glared over at the old computer on a table across the room that looked as if Hurricane Ivan had passed through it. Being a horizontal sorter instead of a vertical one inclined to take up a lot of space. At least she had a backup machine. But when had she last backed up the files in question?
Her screen went dark. Not good. It hadn’t followed the normal procedure for shutting down. Lord, I thought you said you would answer when I called. Well, I’ve been calling and all I see is a dead computer. Her stomach twisted itself in a half hitch.
Her hand automatically reached for the ringing phone, but she stopped before answering it. Right now was not a good time to talk to a client, or her mother or a friend, or anyone. The machine could pick it up. What was wrong with the computer?
“Hi, this is Thane Davidson.” He had the kind of voice that sounded good even on an answering machine.
He called—like he said he would. A man who lived up to his word. And a computer genius.
She picked up the phone. “Hang on, the message will click off in a minute.” She glanced down to meet Harley’s expectant gaze, gave him a bit of her lunch and smiled when the machine clicked off. “Hi.” Brilliant conversationalist that she was. “How was your run?”
“Good. How’s the work going?”
“Not good right now. My computer is acting up.” She pressed the start button, having given the monster time to sort itself out. But when it groaned instead of booting up, she felt like pounding it with something solid. Like a baseball bat. Calling it names failed to help, either.
“What’s happening?”
“Can you hear it?” She held the receiver close to the tower.
“Yes. Pathetic.” For the next half hour he talked her through various labyrinths of her computer, places she’d never seen nor had any desire to see again. Finally, he sighed. “How old is your computer?”
“Not quite two years.”
“How long since you did a backup disk?”
“Two days ago. I do a complete backup every Saturday. And the file I was working on, I have the backup from last night. But the four hours I spent on it today will probably be gone, right?”
“Afraid so, sorry. Do you have program disks to reinstall?”
“Somewhere.”
“What will you do? New computer or put in another hard drive?”
“Any suggestions?”
“Well, if you’d like, we could install a new hard drive, increase your memory and speed, not difficult.”
“You said we.”
“How about I get the hardware and bring it over? While you make dinner, I can get it up and running again. That is if that’s what you want to do?”
While he was talking her mind flitted through her cupboards, freezer and refrigerator. What could she make? Or she could go pick up a barbequed chicken at the market, bake potatoes in the microwave and make a salad. A loaf of sourdough bread from the bakery would be perfect.
“Good. And thanks in advance.”
“You are most welcome. Give me some information on your computer and I’ll be on my way.”
Blythe hung up, torn between delight at seeing him again and so soon, and despair at what she’d lost. If only they could retrieve that file. If only she had saved to the CD when she stopped for lunch. If only the hours went by more slowly. And here she’d been thrilled to be as far along as she was. Was being the operative word. She glanced around the office. No time to clean that up but then a clean office wa
s the sign of a sick mind, another sign on the wall said so and she totally believed it. Until someone else was coming into her office.
She moved the backup disks of the files she’d been working on over to the other computer and booted it up. While he worked on one, she could be working on the other. It was just slower than a weary snail.
Harley moved, too, laying down with his chin on her foot, his normal place during the working day, if there were no sunspots to bake in. Blythe leaned down to pet him.
“Sorry, buddy but there won’t be any playing today.” She leaned her head toward one shoulder, let it stretch, and then to the other, trying to pull the tension from her shoulders.
Why, oh, why didn’t I save that file? I know better. She glared at the dead box on her other table. Should have taken a baseball bat to it just for the pure joy of it. And how was she to fix a company dinner on top of this?
“Come on, Harley, we’re going to the store.” If the man thought he might get home cooking, he would be in for a surprise. I wish I knew if he is in a relationship. You never can be too sure these days.
CHAPTER FIVE
Thane caught himself whistling as he opened the car door for Matty.
How long since he’d whistled? Something that used to be part of his daily life. When had it gone away? How surprising that he’d noticed. Something was in the air, that was for sure.
He slammed the rear door of his SUV and opened the driver’s side. “I think, dear Matty, that I have found the woman of my dreams.” He glanced over his shoulder to see his hound sitting on the seat just behind the passenger seat. “I thought I put you in the back.” Her ears went down and her tail stopped. “Oh, all right. Sit there. But don’t you bark when I go in the store.” Her tan polka-dotted front feet danced on the leather seat and she gave him an adoring look, before shifting to watch out the window.
Purchasing the needed computer supplies took less time than he’d thought it would, so when he followed the instructions of his GPS, and knocked at Blythe’s door, no one answered. If she was so hot to finish her work, where had she gone? Obviously she’d not taken Harley—his deep woof from the other side of the locked door announced that. Thane turned and stared around the neighborhood, a mishmash of cottages, some redone, others deteriorating but in a genteel manner. What had once been a working class neighborhood now showed traces of yuppie invasion.
“If you’re Thane, she went to the store,” a woman two doors down called.
And if I’m not Thane, did she not go to the store? Were there other neighbors spying as well? No one was peeking out of windows, nor skulking around corners of the houses. “Thanks.” He returned to his vehicle and debated; take Matty for a walk, go back home and work for awhile, or stay here and check for messages. The latter won out and with Matty giving his other ear a quick cleaning, he dialed for messages and set about answering what he could. Change of schedule for tomorrow. He glared at his cell phone. Now he wouldn’t be able to walk Matty in the morning or invite Blythe out to dinner. Half tempted to say he wasn’t free in the morning, he dialed back and agreed. One did not renege on one’s largest client, even though he’d need to be on the road by 5:00 a.m. to beat the traffic and get to South San Francisco by eight.
He left a message on Josie’s pager that he would need her to walk the dog in the morning and late afternoon. At the next message he shrugged, checked his PalmPilot and set the meeting for Thursday at noon, definitely time to walk and latte before leaving—and for that trip, he’d take BART so he could work on the way home, as long as he got a seat. The Bay Area Rapid Transit sometimes seemed like a second office, and the sights of all the other computers and technical devices showed that others used their travel time as wisely as he did. He’d never learned to sleep on the commuter train.
He was just finishing his last message when a well-cared-for older car turned into the drive just behind him. Perfect timing. He scooped up his purchases, popped the rear door and went around to grab Matty’s leash as she jumped to the ground. While he had to boost her over the tailgate getting in, she leaped out with a happy woof.
“Hope you don’t mind my bringing her?”
“Not at all.” Blythe reached into the back seat for several plastic bags. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
Harley’s woof turned into a full-blown howl.
“Your friend is not a happy house sitter.” He followed her to the yellow front door. Pots of geraniums lined the three steps to a porch shadowed pink through the western screen of bougainvillea. A white wicker rocker with a cushion splashed in vivid reds, pinks and yellows had already invited him to sit and make himself comfortable before he opted to work in the car.
Not that wicker was his thing. His outdoor furniture lacked cushions over the teak slats, mainly because cushions needed to be taken in and he’d not taken time for such mundane things.
He waited while Blythe fumbled with the key, finally opening the door to a rush of Harley, yipping his greeting to Matty, entirely ignoring the man looming behind his owner.
“Some watchdog, isn’t he?” Blythe motioned Thane inside. “Welcome. Let me put these things in the kitchen and then I’ll show you the way to my office.”
“Okay, dogs. That’s enough sniffing.” He raised his voice slightly to follow Blythe. “Do you mind if I take Matty off the leash. She has good house manners.”
“No, of course not.”
He glanced around the room as he unsnapped the leash and folded it to put in the pocket of his leather bomber jacket. Lived-in but lovely and inviting. Just what he’d expect of the woman who so intrigued him. She might call herself a graphic designer but she could add interior decorator and artist to her list as the two oil paintings—one of the waterfront at the park, the other of John Muir House out toward the freeway—both bore her signature. A trio of watercolors of summer blooming irises, purple cone flower and Mexican sage showed her artistic versatility. If she’d also taken the photos lined on the mantel, what was she doing producing playbills, menus and advertising for local businesses?
“There, sorry I took so long.” Blythe wiped her hands on her jeans as she entered the room.
“You did all these?” He nodded to all the artwork.
“Ah, yeah.” She shrugged as if they were of no account, as if anyone could create such beauty.
“I see.” Keep out of her business, Davidson, you have enough of your own. He picked up the packages. “Let’s see your computer.”
She led him down a stair lined with what he assumed were family photos interspersed with more art shots and lots of Harley. Harley sleeping, Harley running toward her through a field of California poppies, Harley looking up from nose digging, his muzzle covered in dirt, Harley as a puppy wearing reindeer ears at Christmas and a woebe-gone expression.
Matty and Harley both followed behind them.
Blythe pointed to the newer computer on a desk against the far wall. On one wall, sliding glass doors led the way out to the backyard and two computers sat on a table off to the right. A drafting table took up space in the middle of a room with one corner set up with easel and paints, and another with framing supplies of a mat cutter, clamps and a miter box. Tools hung on the wall above it.
“You’re a jack of all trades?”
“Yeah, and master of none.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me.”
“I’ll turn on the computer. Now that someone is here who understands it better than I, it will probably work just fine.”
“Please.” He shook his head, raising very expressive eyebrows to go along with the slightly sarcastic word.
“Don’t you know that mechanical and technical things always behave for one in the know? Like cars for a mechanic?’
Thane rolled his eyes and removed a tool kit from his jacket pocket before removing said jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. How like a woman to anthropomorphize even a computer. “They are nothing but a box, chips and circuits.”
“Frequen
tly run by gremlins who delight in messing around with said circuits and chips. Not a lot they can do with the box. But keyboards and a mouse, that’s another gremlin family, I’m sure.”
He shrugged and pushed the power button. Nothing. “Guess it really is down.”
“Not that I like to say I told you so, but…”
“Have you ever taken a computer apart?”
“Once, when I added more memory.”
He pulled out the tower and began to unplug cables, whistling a tune under his breath.
“Would you mind if I go work on the other one?”
“Uh, of course not. Just stay close so I can ask you questions if I need to.”
“Dinner will be ready anytime we are.”
He nodded and removed the first of the screws. As usual when confronted with a failed computer, he lost all track of time and space, rebuilding the insides, and putting it back together. “These the installation disks?”
“Those to your right, yes.”
“Okay.”
After a bit, he asked her more questions about how she wanted programs installed, and when she came to stand behind him, the light fragrance of her perfume reminded him of summer days and citrus drinks.
“I can do the rest.”
“If I do this, can you get further ahead on the other?”
“Well, yes.”
“Good, then let me help.” He looked over his shoulder. “If you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” She shook her head. “Why would I mind? I just hate to take advantage of you.” Her cheeks flushed pink when she realized what she’d said.
He kept his chuckle inside.
“I mean.” It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Oh good grief…” Her cheeks deepened in hue. “I think I better go check on our dinner.” She fled up the stairs, both dogs jumping up to follow her.
Thane watched her go, chuckled and turned back to the computer. After all, he had to earn his dinner. The old saw, sing for his supper, drifted through his mind. Now that would take away anyone’s appetite. Shower singing was his forte. Matty often howled along with him.
Once Upon a Christmas Page 3
