“I told her the truth, that I knew nothing about it.”
Charlie nodded. “Good.”
“She didn’t believe me.”
“Ah.” Charlie tucked Gladys’s hand close to his side. “Now you know how I feel, being disbelieved at every turn.”
“Okay, I get the point. Besides, you obviously have something up your sleeve. How did you accomplish that delay with Anderson’s?”
“If I told you, then you’d know, and the next time Tippy the Lip asked, you’d have to fabricate. I prefer things this way.”
“You want me to believe in magic.”
“Why not?” Gladys interjected. “I certainly do.”
Charlie looked wise. Then he nodded in the direction of the museum entrance. “Direct your attention over there and tell me you don’t believe in magic.”
Spence followed Charlie’s gaze and his eyes widened as he sighted Jill. “I do believe,” he said reverently, gazing at the woman he loved. “But she had no business paying for new clothes, just to make this speech. That suit looks expensive.”
“Don’t worry, my boy. In addition to purchasing the wedding flowers, Gladys and I took Jill shopping. I’ll wager Gladys had more fun than our Jill.”
“I had a ball,” Gladys said. “She reminds me of my daughter when she was a little younger. I can hardly wait until my granddaughter is old enough to enjoy shopping trips.”
Spence continued to stare at Jill, who had come in with Hedda Kramer. The two women laughed about something, and Spence drank in Jill’s buoyant beauty. “I’ve never seen her all dressed up before,” he murmured. “In high heels, and everything.”
Charlie beamed. “Quite impressive, I’ll admit. When those shoes were invented, I wondered at the practicality, but they certainly do something for—” He looked at Gladys and reddened. “That is, they enhance the line of—”
“They sure as hell do,” Spence agreed, amused at Charlie’s discomfort in front of his lady love. “Jill is gorgeous in jeans, but in a skirt, and a soft blouse and the way the jacket nips in at her waist, she really…” He stopped, choosing not to put into words what he was thinking.
“Well said, my boy,” Charlie finished with a wink. “And here she comes.” Charlie waved as Jill headed in their direction.
“Lovely, simply lovely,” Gladys said when Jill arrived. “Burgundy was the right color choice, after all.”
“Thank you.” Jill glanced shyly at Spence. “Gladys thought I might carry more authority dressed like this. She wanted to make a contribution to the effort.”
“I think I have,” Gladys said.
“Most definitely,” Spence added, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her. “You look terrific.”
Jill adjusted her shoulder bag. “Feels pretty funny, wearing nylons and heels after seven months of jeans and running shoes.”
“You don’t look funny,” Spence said, and noticed that Charlie and Gladys had drifted away to give them some privacy. “You look as if you were born to wear clothes like that. I can’t get over how versatile you are. No wonder you have trouble deciding where to put your energies.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “That was a nice thing to say.”
“I meant every bit of it. In fact, if you can give me a little of your time this evening, I have a few more comments along those lines…”
“The seats are almost filled,” she said, laying her hand lightly on his arm. “We’d better start the meeting.”
He glanced down at her fingers resting on his sleeve and then looked back into her eyes. She drew her hand away, but the color in her cheeks and the light in her green eyes told him that the brief contact had affected her as it had him. His heart raced and his body tightened with desire. The past two nights without her had been hell. He wondered how he’d last until June, assuming that he stood half a chance of her coming back to him.
He cleared the emotion from his throat. “I’ll get things rolling,” he said, introducing her with pride and a splash of jealousy, as he watched other men in the room warming to her. It wasn’t only the men, however. The women liked her, too. If he’d been smart enough to use her as a spokesperson before, perhaps they’d be closer to the goal.
She could do anything she chose, he thought as she began her speech. Was that her problem, that she had too many options? For one selfish moment he wished she’d been born with only one straightforward ability that pointed her in a single career direction. But then she wouldn’t be the multifaceted woman he loved.
“Are all of you from the second bus recovered from our glorious hike?” she asked, and was greeted with groans and laughter. “Great. You’ll be happy to know that the bus company offered to donate that vehicle to the museum, as an example of an ancient mode of transport.”
Spence chuckled. She was clever, all right.
“But that isn’t why I asked Spence to call another meeting,” she said. “I asked for this chance to talk to you because our accidental hike through Garden of the Gods started me thinking. We’ve put a lot of emphasis on saving the museum, and I still believe in that. I’d also like to see the melodrama continue as free entertainment and a training ground for young Colorado Springs actors.”
Spence noticed some nodding, mostly from people who had already signed his petition. Many people, mostly those from the second bus, sat with their arms folded and skeptical looks on their faces.
“But frankly,” Jill continued, “the museum and the melodrama aren’t the most critical elements of the Remembrance Mall. Remember what it was like for us, trudging along that road toward the park entrance, many of us handicapped by having the wrong shoes for that sort of activity?”
They were starting to get it. Spence saw the light dawning on several faces.
“They say you can never understand another’s problem until you walk a mile in that person’s shoes,” Jill said, looking carefully around at the group. “On Tuesday afternoon we were given a chance, purely by accident, to experience what it might be like for a handicapped person to make the trip through this mall.” She paused, and the room was perfectly quiet. “That’s all I have to say,” she added, and sat down in the front row where Charlie and Gladys had saved her a seat.
12
SPENCE WALKED to the front of the room. Jill had set the crowd up beautifully. He could tell from their open posture and their listening attitude that they were thinking, not merely reacting to Tippy’s suggestion of fewer services and more revenue.
“I can’t speak for the rest of you,” he began, “but coming to work every day at the Remembrance Mall used to make me feel pretty good about myself. There was an atmosphere of goodwill. I don’t know exactly how that translates into dollars and cents—it’s tough to put emotion on a ledger sheet. But have you ever noticed that none of us has trouble hiring clerks? Help Wanted signs stay in the window an average of two days around here.”
“Not anymore,” commented someone from the middle of the crowd.
“My point exactly,” Spence continued. “The atmosphere of goodwill is going sour. I don’t feel the same pride coming to work that I once did. The melodrama’s ended its run, and that place used to give me a lift. I don’t see smiling, gray-haired folks enjoying the trolley these days, just grim shoppers who’ve managed enough purchases to afford the ride. In fact, I don’t see many shoppers smiling, period.”
“I’ll smile when I get that ten-percent rent reduction,” said the same belligerent man who always sat in the back.
Another man, young and hesitant, stood up and adjusted his tie. “Can I say something?”
Spence nodded. “Sure.”
“I was on that second bus, and I’d worn new shoes that day. The unexpected walk was misery. I have the blisters to prove it.” A few people nodded in sympathy. “What you guys say makes sense,” the young man continued. “I don’t feel the same coming to work since the changes started. I see a difference in my customers, too. I don’t know about th
e ten-percent reduction—it may or may not happen—but the atmosphere of the mall is important. I think we have to put things back the way they were.” The young man sat down amid murmurs of agreement.
“Thanks,” Spence said. “I have one more thing to say. We’ve had these special features, but until now they haven’t been used much at all in advertising. What if we suggest a campaign to the mall management, using the features as a selling point? Instead of cutting out the extras, why not use them as promotion tools to bring in more business?”
“You gonna put that in the petition?” asked someone.
“Sure, unless somebody objects.” Spence surveyed the room. “Then it’s in. Basically, that’s all I have. The petition’s here, if anyone wants to sign tonight. If you want more time to think about it, the petition will be available in the store all day tomorrow.”
“What about Anderson’s?” asked a woman.
“They’ve decided to postpone their decision until Monday,” Spence replied, glancing at Charlie. “I figure we’ve got to hit Tippy Henderson with this petition tomorrow afternoon, and we need eighty-five or ninety percent of you to make it effective. We now have about forty percent. So unless anyone else wants to speak, we’ll adjourn. The petition’s on the table by the door.”
Chairs scraped as everyone stood and started out of the room. Spence walked over to where Jill, Charlie and Gladys waited for him.
“Well done, my boy,” Charlie said, reaching up to pat Spence on the shoulder. “You and Jill make a fine team.”
“We might get them this time.” Spence smiled at Jill. “And you’re right, Charlie. Jill’s creative ideas have made all the difference.”
“I don’t know if we’ve got them or not.” Jill glanced at the petition table. “A lot of people are walking out without signing.”
“Yeah, but I saw the expressions on nearly everyone’s face when you talked about what it must be like to be handicapped and have to negotiate a gigantic mall like this one,” Spence said. “They’ll be at the store tomorrow if they don’t sign tonight. I just hope Tippy the Lip doesn’t throw the petition back in our faces tomorrow afternoon.”
“Surely she wouldn’t do that,” Gladys said.
“She has no legal obligation to abide by the wishes of the tenants,” Spence replied. “And she’s one stubborn lady, but I can’t picture her standing firm against a petition for ninety percent of us. Let’s hope we get that many.”
“Let’s hope so,” Charlie said. “Well, Gladys, my dear, shall we be off?”
She smiled and took his arm. “We’ll be back tomorrow,” she said to Spence and Jill. “Senior Striders’ walking day, you know.”
“And we’ll be checking on your progress with the petition,” Charlie added. He glanced from Spence to Jill. “You two have a lovely evening.”
“I’d better be going, too,” Jill said, reaching for her coat on the back of the chair.
Reflexively Spence put his hand over hers. “Wait a minute. I thought maybe we could—”
“I’m afraid not,” she said softly, giving him a look that pierced him through with longing. “I’ll walk out with Charlie and Gladys.”
He watched her leave. The high heels added a graceful sway to her walk, and he almost groaned with frustration. He’d have to let her go this time. No point in making a scene in front of everyone. But he reached a decision as his gaze traveled over her luxuriant hair, small waist and inviting hips. Before this was over and she drove away, perhaps forever, he’d make love to her once more, somehow, somewhere. He wanted one more memory of her body closing around him. And he needed to remind her, one last time, of their passion.
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON at four o’clock, Spence’s office overflowed with people wanting to accompany him when he gave Tippy Henderson the petition. Jill was squashed into one corner of the room with Charlie, Gladys, Bernie, George and Robert.
“Too bad we didn’t get the ninety percent Spence wanted,” George said. “With only seventy-two percent of the tenants on that list, Tippy may not go along.”
“Seventy-two percent is still a clear majority,” Bernie said. “Anyway, we have to go with what we’ve got. Time is running out.”
“Okay, listen up,” Spence said, speaking above the murmur of voices. “We can’t all fit in Tippy’s office, so I’ll have to pick four people to go with me. There’s nothing wrong with the rest of you waiting out in the hall, though, as moral support. I’d really appreciate that.”
“So who’s going?” asked someone.
“Jill Amory, because she’s worked on this from the beginning, and—”
“That’s okay,” Jill demurred. “I don’t need to go.”
“Yes, you do,” Spence said, with a glance that told her he’d make an issue of it if she refused. “This has been your project.”
She flushed as most of the room’s occupants turned toward her. “All right,” she said quietly. “I’ll go.”
With a nod, Spence turned toward the others. “And Hedda Kramer, for her encouragement, and Tom Jorgenson, who spoke up in the meeting last night and changed some minds, I think. And a representative from the Senior Striders. How about Robert?”
Robert adjusted his glasses. “I think you’d better take Bernie.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He, um…well, just take him, that’s all.”
“Is that okay with you, Bernie?”
Bernie gripped his walking stick and glanced around at the group. “That’s just fine with me. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Surely Bernie won’t try to charm Tippy now?” Jill whispered to Robert as everyone began edging out the door.
“I don’t think charm is the right word,” Robert said.
“Then what on earth…?” Jill stared at Robert.
“Never mind that,” Robert said, “let’s go.”
“What’s all this about Bernie having to be the representative?” Spence asked when he reached her side.
“Robert wouldn’t tell me,” she replied. “Are you worried about it?”
“Charlie assured me not to worry. Whatever the secret is about Bernie, Charlie’s not telling, either. For all I know we have Bernie, the Patron Saint of Shoppers in our midst. After Charlie managed to get Anderson’s to back off, I’m willing to believe anything these old guys tell me.”
“I still wonder how he did that,” Jill said.
“Me too, but magicians don’t reveal their tricks, I guess. It worked, whatever he did.”
“Let’s hope this does, too,” Jill said. “Have you noticed we’re gathering more store managers and owners along the way?”
“Yep. Tippy’s got to be influenced by this show of force.”
“And if not, we have Bernie, our secret weapon.”
“Right.” Spence grinned. “You know, I’m having fun. After all those years in the military, it’s a blast to challenge authority for a change.”
Jill laughed. “And what will you do when this is over? Find another cause to champion?”
“Maybe.” He glanced at her. “If I could count on my sidekick.”
She remained silent.
“Weekend’s coming up, Jill. Any plans?”
“I’ll be washing my hair.”
“I’d love to help,” he said.
“Spence, let’s not go through this again.”
He sighed. “All right.”
Privately she wondered how she’d get through the weekend, but she had to, somehow. Charlie and Gladys would be married on Tuesday morning, and she’d promised to be there. Immediately after the wedding, she’d leave.
Before the crowd reached Tippy’s outer office, Tippy’s secretary appeared in the doorway and peered out. “My goodness,” she said, her eyes wide. “What’s all this?”
“We have a petition to present to Tippy Henderson,” Spence said.
“All of you?”
“Yes, but only five of us need to talk directly with her. Will you tell her we’re here?”
“I’ll tell her,” the secretary said, backing toward Tippy’s office door. In a moment she returned, still wide-eyed. “You may go in,” she said, edging sideways toward her desk.
Spence ushered the women in ahead of the men, so Jill was the first person in the office. Tippy sat behind her desk, smiling as if about to receive a commendation.
“So, Spencer Jegger, you finally got all your little ducks in a row,” she said when Spence came forward and handed her the petition. She placed the papers on her desk without looking at them. “Now that you’ve delivered the results of this temper tantrum, you may all leave.”
Jill’s mouth dropped open in disbelief at the woman’s rudeness. Tippy the Lip was aptly named. Jill wondered how she’d earned a position of authority, but perhaps she didn’t adopt this attitude with her superiors.
“Before we leave, we demand a reply to our request,” Spence said, his gaze threatening. “The majority of your tenants are unhappy, Ms Henderson. I suggest you consider what they have to say.”
Tippy glanced through the pages of signatures. “In the first place, a fair number of tenants didn’t sign this petition, and in the second place, they’ll all sing a different tune when they receive their first rent reduction.”
“And when will that be?” Hedda Kramer said. “Exactly?”
“I can’t give you an exact date,” Tippy said with a cool glance. “Once Anderson’s is in, we’ll have a better idea about that.”
“We really don’t care about the rent reduction,” the young man named Tom said. “We want the mall back the way it used to be.”
Tippy clucked her tongue. “Such reactionary behavior is a shame in someone so young, Mr. Jorgenson. And if you run that store on ideals instead of clearheaded business practices, you’ll find yourself in big financial trouble.”
“And if we lose our ideals,” Spence said, “we’re in trouble that can’t be measured. Did you even look at the proposal for the ad campaign? Instead of eliminating our services for the handicapped and aged, why not use them as a promotion?”
“Because I don’t care to,” Tippy said, folding her arms on the desk. “An ad campaign would take money, which we may or may not recoup through increased business. My methods are much quicker.”
Forever Mine, Valentine Page 15
