Tara opened the folder and shook her head at the first brochure. “Forensic Accounting? I don’t even know what that is.” She slid the folder in her notebook. “I don’t know why she thinks I can do this. I’m a cheerleader in every stereotype of the word.”
Lisa laughed. “Leslie said you flew through the tax preparation classes like no one else. She has a lot of faith in you.”
“After the next few days, we’ll know for sure if it’s warranted. Do you have a quiet place I can work on this stuff?”
“I’d sneak you into the conference room, but the heat is out again. You’d turn into a frozen treat in an hour. This place is falling apart. Minnie says she has a plan to raise funds for the renovation. We could use them. There’s one study room that doesn’t have a drafty window.”
“Does it come with a masseuse?” Tara rolled her shoulders and let her head loll to the side.
“If it did, honey, you’d never see me at the reference desk.”
Tara’s lips curved up. “What do you have to stress about? Everything is perfectly calm at the library.”
Lisa snorted. “Yeah, by the time you get here. All the teens with no place to go after school have been picked up by their parents or the police.” Lisa’s phone rang. “I’ll have the last room open for you by the time you get your coffee.”
“Thanks.” Tara headed down to the coffee bar and ordered her hazelnut coffee. “I’m going to splurge and get whipped cream on top.”
“Coming right up.” The teenage girl with the paper hat behind the counter scribbled something on a paper cup and moved toward the coffee machine with all the speed of a hibernating beaver.
I hope my coffee’s still hot by the time she gets it to me. Tara leaned against the bar and waited.
“Funny meeting you here.” Ryan appeared at her side. She’d been staring at the display of coffee beans and wondering if she had anything intelligent to write in her admissions essay, so she hadn’t heard his crutches creak.
“We keep running into each other.” She grinned. Maybe things were looking up. She smoothed her hair. “At least I didn’t cream you this time. You didn’t hurt your leg any worse last time, did you?”
He was wearing wind pants and a T-shirt for the Chicago Marathon. He looked comfortable despite being propped on crutches. Like popcorn and a good movie. Something she hadn’t enjoyed in a long time.
“No, it couldn’t get any worse.” His face sobered.
Minnie couldn’t have been right. “You really have to have your leg amputated? You said surgery, but I thought an amputation was gossip.”
“Amputated?” Ryan laughed so hard he almost fell off his crutches. “What? No, who told you that?” he managed to reply between snorts.
Great. He thinks I’m an idiot for believing it. Oh well, him and every other nice guy. It shouldn’t matter anyway. “Minnie mentioned it. I didn’t think it was true. You know how gossip gets the story all out of whack.”
Ryan chuckled. “My mom’s pretty good at mangling things. Anything else I should know about?”
“Undercover work?”
Ryan made a confused face. “Like police work?” When Tara nodded, he said, “No, but if I was, I couldn’t tell you.”
Tara laughed. “That’s what I told Minnie. Shacking up with a politician’s wife?” She pulled a loose tendril of hair from the end of her bun and twisted it around her finger.
“Wow. Whose?” He scratched the back of his ear while leaning on one crutch. “Maybe I should.”
“I guess if you have to ask, that one isn’t true either.” Tara winked.
The lines around Ryan’s mouth deepened when he laughed. Tara wanted to run her finger along them. She jammed her hand into her pocket. While Ryan seemed like a great guy, she would be working around the clock for the next two weeks. No time for a few dates, and Ryan would return to his training after he saw the specialist. Her disappointment must have shown on her face.
“Sorry if I’m not as exciting as the gossip.”
“I’ve been around long enough to know how much of the gossip to trust.” She winked again.
Ryan nodded and moved to fill his coffee cup from the free coffee carafe. The cup wobbled as he tried to balance on his crutches and work the spigot on the coffee pot.
“Let me help.” Tara took the cup. Her fingers brushed against his and warmth shot through her. Luckily the cup was empty or she would have sloshed hot coffee over both their hands.
“Thanks. Anterior cruciate ligament sounds a little like amputation.”
“Only because they both start with ‘a’.” Tara let the warm brew gurgle into his cup. Just as she finished, the barista brought Tara’s coffee with its gigantic swirl of whipped cream. The drink looked awfully frothy next to his sober black one. She started to hand him his cup, then realizing how awkward it would be to carry hot coffee while on crutches, she said, “Let me bring this to your seat. It’s the least I can do after knocking you over.”
Ryan grinned and dimples formed in his cheeks. Some of Tara’s stress slipped away. “I’d appreciate it. I’m camped over this way.”
Tara grabbed a couple of napkins then followed him.
“How’d your morning go?” Ryan asked as he navigated to a short set of stairs.
“Busy, busy, but Minnie — you met her yesterday — came in to help answer the phone. And I found the contact information for the person Leslie suggested. There’s a ramp over there.” Tara inclined her head around a bookcase.
“This is shorter.” He moved the crutches to one hand and hopped up the five stairs on his right foot. “Sounds like things are going smoothly then.”
“Well, I haven’t heard back from Charlie yet, but yes, so far.” She pushed away the threatening queasiness. “One day at a time.”
“That’s all you can do.” Ryan turned toward a desk along the windows. A laptop, headphones, and backpack littered the table. A fleece pullover was draped over the back of the chair. Tara placed his coffee next to the computer. She started to go, but Ryan said, “Do you know anything about a project my mom and her friends may be working on?”
Tara thought for a minute, then shrugged. “Other than fundraising for the library’s building project, I don’t know. They say I’m not old enough to be a member of their group. Unless…” She tapped her lip with her finger. “They do owe me a favor.”
“Would it include carrot sticks and aerobics?” Ryan asked as he settled in his seat and slid his crutches under the desk.
“I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t question their particular brand of magic.”
“So what brings you here? I’d think you’d want to veg out in front of the TV during your down time.”
Tara winced. Why was she even contemplating college when she’d never be taken seriously? “Leslie wants me to take some accounting courses this fall, and I need to finish my applications.”
“Good for you. I think it would be hard to go back to college after having been out for a while.”
“It’s even harder if you never went in the first place. I didn’t need a college degree to be on the dance squad, and I don’t know what to write for these essays. I haven’t written more than an email in years.”
“Find something you are passionate about.”
“Writing essays doesn’t make the list.” Tara grimaced.
“If you wanted to answer phones for the rest of your life, you wouldn’t have taken the tax prep classes.”
“I took those to help Leslie.” She was flattered Ryan remembered the detail though.
“From what I’ve heard, you sailed through them. You must have some ability in this area.”
“Did you hear that from the same gossip that said you were donating your amputated leg to a politician’s wife?”
He laughed. “Sometimes they do get it right.”
She shook her head, blinking at the flickering fluorescent light above her head. “I do like how neatly everything comes together. But I’m so scared I’ll
screw something up. This is people’s money we’re talking about. Lots of people depend on their refunds.”
“You’ll practice. It’s what school is about — making mistakes, so you do it right when it matters.”
“So I write my essay about screwing up?” Tara blew on the edge of her coffee before taking a sip.
“And what you learned from it.”
“Well, that makes sense.” In theory. She could make mistakes with the best — or should it be worst? — of them, but she still didn’t have a topic.
Chapter Seven
“Charles Silverman.” He winked and flashed a capped smile. “But you can call me Charles.”
“Nice to meet you, Charles.” Tara held the door open and allowed him to pass through before locking it behind him. She hadn’t expected to hear from him until after lunch today, and he’d shown up an hour before the office opened. She held out her hand. “I’m Tara Mansfield.”
His spring trench coat protected a swanky suit that, by her guess, was at least two years old. The current fashion had a wider lapel and three buttons on the jacket instead of four. Charles didn’t seem like the type of guy to wear an out of fashion suit but maybe he was a little down on his luck and Leslie was trying to help him out. It would explain his ability to be here at a moment’s notice. “I’m glad you were able to come so quickly. I hope we didn’t make you leave anyone in the lurch at your current office.”
Charles was still holding her hand. She wriggled it free and resisted the urge to wipe it on her suit skirt. His skin had an oily sheen to match his slicked hair. He was probably around Leslie’s age, a couple years older than herself, but he looked like he’d lived hard.
“Not a problem, babe. I’m currently between positions and this will be a great way to kill some time.” He gave her an appraising look she remembered from her cheerleading days. What did he estimate her retail value to be? If he thought he would get anywhere with her, she had a can of pepper spray in her purse she’d introduce him to. While she knew she couldn’t survive the week without his help, she was capable of handling her day-to-day duties, despite his evaluation of her physical attributes.
And she despised being called ‘babe.’ It usually meant that the guys were too lazy to learn her name.
“Let me give you a tour. Show you the coat closet, the office, the break room and such.” She waved him around her desk and toward the back hallway.
“Bathroom’s here. A closet there.” She pointed to doors as they passed. “This is the break room.” She pushed open the door at the end of the hall. Charles stepped around her and into the room.
“Hmm. A futon? What services do you provide there?” He slid a leering look her way.
Ewww. Leslie had suggested this guy? No wonder he was between positions. She hated to think about what he actually meant. What a creep.
“I don’t know what kind of offices you’ve worked in, Mr. Silverman, but we handle finances here and that is it. Leslie took naps on the futon because she was pregnant.”
“Oh yeah.” The words came out dry, like he didn’t actually believe her.
Another reason to hope Leslie would get out of bed rest, and be able to return to work.
“So where’s my office?” Charles asked, heading back toward the reception area. He stopped in front of Leslie’s door. “Here?”
Tara hadn’t had a chance to think about where he would work, but the idea of having a door between them had appeal. There was space for another desk in the reception area, and she and Leslie had discussed how they would arrange things when they were able to hire another person. She supposed he’d have to work in Leslie’s office. It didn’t seem right for him to take over Leslie’s space, but she couldn’t have him greeting customers either. It would only be for a few days, she reminded herself as she opened the door for him.
“This is Leslie’s office. I haven’t had a chance to organize things for you yet.” As she said it she realized how inane she sounded. Files were stacked neatly in the inbox and outbox bins on the desk. The blotter, phone, and clock were all square with the edges of the desk. The only hint that anyone had worked here in the last month was the open file on the blotter with a pen on top of it and the chair turned away from the desk. Exactly as Tara had left it Friday afternoon.
“Same old Leslie, not a hair out of place. Does she still wear the French twists so tight her eyes bug out?” Charles wandered around the desk and picked up the photo of Mark from its place of honor next to her computer screen. He laughed and slapped it face down.
Tara stood in the doorway, desperately itching to return Mark’s picture to its proper standing.
“It’s not as bad as I expected.” Charles dropped his briefcase in the middle of Leslie’s desk and shrugged his coat off his shoulders. “It’ll do, for now.”
“Okay.” Tara stood in the doorway wondering what she should do next. Take his coat? Offer him coffee? Leslie never asked her to do any of these things, but she was acting as the hostess here. “We don’t open for another half hour, so make yourself comfortable.”
“Great.” Charles held his coat out to Tara.
She took it as if it was a bag of dirty diapers. “I’ll hang this up.” She turned toward the door. “I’ll get the file for your first appointment. You’ll have a chance to skim it before they arrive.”
“Send them in. I’ll have a coffee with two sugars and half a teaspoon of cream.”
“I don’t think we have any cream. Is non-dairy creamer all right?” She could guess his answer. A big fat no.
“Skimping on the coffee supplies? Things must be tight. I knew Leslie couldn’t get this place off the ground.”
Charles hadn’t had one nice thing to say about Leslie since he arrived. Tara couldn’t believe Leslie had recommended him. He didn’t seem like the type of person she would associate with.
“Leslie and I both drink our coffee black during the day. We used to keep cream for the customers, but it usually spoiled before it was used so we stopped buying it.”
The phone on Tara’s desk rang.
“You better get that. It looks like Leslie can’t afford to lose customers.” Charles pressed the power button on the computer.
Tara hid her scowl and headed for the door, anxious for any excuse to leave Charles’s presence. His evaluations of the office were annoying at the least, since the entire place had been renovated from top to bottom in the last three years. She grabbed the handset on her desk and tucked the receiver between her ear and shoulder.
“Knotts Accounting. How may I help you?” She draped Charles’s coat over the back of her chair.
“It’s a boy!” the voice exclaimed. She recognized Mark immediately.
“What? Leslie had the baby? Is everyone okay?” She stopped her questions before she asked when Leslie would be back to work. With a new baby, she’d be out beyond the end of tax season. She grabbed Charles’s coat off her chair and hung it in the closet. She didn’t need to be in front of her computer for this call. She closed the closet door and headed for the coffee pot in the break room.
“Everyone’s okay. The baby’s still baking. We saw something unmistakable on the ultrasound though.” Mark laughed.
“Congratulations on the boy. How exciting! When can Leslie come home?” She poured a cup of coffee and dumped the required two sugars into a mug with their logo on it. Charles never suggested a replacement for his half tablespoon of cream so Tara didn’t worry about it.
“They are keeping her in the hospital a little longer. Her blood pressure isn’t coming down. The radiology tech saw something on the ultrasound she was concerned about too. We’re waiting to hear more from Leslie’s doctor.”
“I hoped she’d be able to come home.”
“Me, too. At least she’s getting rest here. She’s not allowed to be on her feet for more than five minutes at a time. Hold on a sec.” Mark said something muffled, then came back to her. “She wants to know how you are holding up.”
�
�Tell her I’m doing fine. No need to worry.” Tara hoped her uneasiness wasn’t evident in her voice. She placed Charles’s coffee in front of him, then returned to her desk. “The person she suggested is here already. That should help. He seems eager to get to work.”
He had certainly powered up the computer quickly. Maybe the bad vibes she was getting from him were simply from years of working with men who only appreciated women for their bodies.
“Great. She’ll be relieved. Hopefully it will help her relax. She’s been so upset about dumping all this on you.”
“She’s got better things to worry about than me.” Tara’s confidence wavered. Leslie knew she couldn’t handle this and it was making her condition worse. Tara couldn’t let her fears affect Leslie and Mark’s baby. She had to handle this. Do whatever was necessary to keep the office running. She’d work around the clock to prove herself to Leslie.
“Tara!” an irritated voice called from Leslie’s office.
“I better go. Tell Leslie to take it easy and keep that baby baking as long as possible.” She tried to shake away the uneasiness. Leslie was depending on her.
“Will do. I’ll talk to you later.”
Tara hung up and went to see what Charles needed. If it was about his coffee, he would have to learn to doctor it himself. She leaned through the doorway. “Yes?”
“Could you log me onto the computer system?”
“Sure.” Tara started toward the desk, then stopped. “Actually why don’t I create a login for you? Then you can set everything up the way you want.”
Charles hesitated. “Will I still be able to access the client files?”
“Yes. Just not Leslie’s private files.”
He didn’t look altogether happy, but something about him made Tara want to be cautious. She backed away from the desk. “Is there anything else?”
“I want my password to be ‘big kahuna.’”
“We use a password generator and change the passwords on all logins every two weeks. We are very concerned about our system and our clients’ privacy.”
Climbing Heartbreak Hill Page 4
