Bentleys Buy a Buick (That Business Between Us Book 5)

by Pamela Morsi

  When break time finally arrived, Erica was grateful for the walk to the vending machines. One of the most difficult back-to-the-job things to get accustomed to was the long hours seated in front of the computer screen. It made her neck and shoulders ache in a way that carrying a baby in a sling or lifting a toddler into a grocery cart never did.

  She stood in front of the giant vending machine full of prepackaged snacks, a fistful of change in her hand. Cookies, chips or cheese crackers? Three bad choices. Did she want to stoke up her blood sugar? Or retain fluid? This was a downside of her job as well. A little bit of medical knowledge could be a dangerous thing.

  “I always go for the peanuts,” said a voice behind her. “At least there’s protein in those oily, empty calories.”

  She turned to see Dr. Glover, standing behind her. He was only a couple of inches taller than she was. It was nice not having to really look up to meet a man’s eyes.

  “I overslept this morning,” she admitted. “So I’m trying to make the least bad breakfast choice.”

  “Step away from the vending machine,” he said, mimicking a cop on a megaphone. Then he added in a more traditional voice, “Seriously, go back to your desk. I’ll bring you something better than this.”

  Erica hesitated, but his nod sent her back to the Medical Records office, where he showed up less than a minute later with a giant, warmed muffin.

  “It’s sweet potato,” he told her. “Potassium, magnesium and beta carotene in a relatively low glycemic load.”

  To Erica’s amazement, Dr. Glover actually sat down on the edge of her desk.

  “Thank you,” she said, before eyeing the gift suspiciously. “Did you steal this out of the Doctor’s Lounge?”

  The cushy, private rest area down the hall was famous for the platters of fresh fruits and pastries still warm from the oven. However, pilfering the doctor’s stash was expressly forbidden. Erica said as much to Glover.

  “It’s not stealing. They actually count me as one of the doctors.”

  “You are,” she pointed out. “I’m not.”

  “Eat,” he ordered. “We can’t have you fainting on the job. You’d ruin the department’s reputation as the one place that never has a crash cart.”

  Erica tutted at his joke and shook her head, but the muffin smelled wonderful, so she took a bite.

  “Mmm, this is good,” she admitted.

  Dr. Glover nodded. “I know. It’s my favorite. And I’ve tried all of them.”

  Erica decided she should just thank her good luck and enjoy her breakfast.

  “So how late were you this morning? Did you get called on the carpet?”

  She shook her head. “I made it here on time, but I’m usually early.”

  “Early, huh? I thought women were always late.”

  “That’s a stereotype.”

  “They’re always late when they’re meeting me,” he said. “Maybe they’re reluctant.”

  “Or maybe you’re dating the wrong women,” Erica said.

  He chuckled. “There’s no maybe about that. All I ever seem to attract are the psycho-chicks. I must have a beacon shining above my head that says, ‘Crazy ladies, apply for romance here!”’

  Erica laughed.

  “It must be true,” he insisted.

  “You just need to meet some different women,” Erica said.

  He shrugged. “I do. I meet nice women, and they are always married. You are a case in point. Nice, funny, smart, easy to talk to and married. That’s my luck.”

  Erica was flattered. Then a thought flickered through her mind. She almost let it go, and then she reconsidered. Why not do something nice for someone else, and perhaps she could even help herself in the bargain.

  “Callie, the woman you worked with on this project before me,” Erica said. “I kind of got the impression she was sort of interested in you.”

  He stared at her strangely for a moment and then laughed uproariously, loud enough to be heard in every corner of the department. But when he spoke it was only a little above a whisper.

  “You kind of got that impression? I kind of got that impression, too. What did I tell you—psycho-chicks, they adore me.” He rose to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks for the conversation.”

  “Thanks for the breakfast,” she replied, indicating the half-eaten muffin she still held in her hand.

  “Enjoy,” he said as he walked away.

  Erica finished her muffin and got back to work. At noon, she logged off and had just unlocked the drawer to get her handbag when Melody stepped into her cubicle.

  “Ready for lunch?”

  Erica glanced up at her, puzzled. “You’re in a good mood today,” she pointed out.

  Melody shrugged. “Callie’s out sick. That’s good news for you and me. We’re the women she’s targeting.”

  Erica mentally reminded herself that “targeting” was Melody’s word choice. Erica had no evidence that Callie was upset with her at all.

  “Okay,” she said simply.

  Melody looked positively exuberant. Erica felt less so, but she accompanied the woman downstairs and followed her through the cafeteria line.

  When they carried their trays to the Medical Records table, Lena, Rayliss and Darla were already there. Callie’s seat at the head of the table was empty. None of them had chosen to take it. Erica didn’t, either.

  They seated themselves. The atmosphere was a bit more quiet than usual, and everyone was relaxed.

  “Callie’s out sick today? I hope it’s not serious.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Darla replied.

  Rayliss chuckled. “I’d bet on a bad case of anal astigmatism.”

  “Anal astigmatism?” Erica was certain she must have heard incorrectly.

  “Yeah,” Rayliss answered. “Callie probably couldn’t see her butt coming in to work today.”

  Lena, Darla and Rayliss cackled as if that was the funniest joke they’d ever heard. Melody wasn’t laughing, but she looked inexplicably pleased.

  Erica smiled, but with uncertainty. She knew the group found it difficult to resist gossip. But this was more serious than silly rumors. It was very well known that Mrs. Converse was a stickler for appropriate use of sick leave. She took great pride knowing her department had the lowest absentee rate in the entire UTHSC institutional system.

  If Callie, with her seniority and traits as a natural leader, was flouting the strict attendance policies, it would be noticed. And Erica was sure Mrs. Converse would not be happy and would be compelled to come down on it harshly.

  Erica thought it might be in the best interest of the department to defend her.

  “I’m sure if she called in sick, she truly is.”

  Darla looked up at her and then glanced over at Rayliss. The meaningful glance that passed between the two of them was completely uninterpretable to Erica.

  “My guess is that Callie was pretty whipped this morning,” Darla snorted. “Not to mean she was actually ‘whipped’—I don’t think the guy she’s been doing is into that specifically.”

  Rayliss giggled at that and shot Erica a glance as if it was supposed to mean something to her.

  “Oh...” Melody said, as if just getting the direction of the conversation.

  Lena perked up as well. “I’d heard her bragging yesterday about her new boyfriend.”

  “I’m not sure you can call him a ‘boyfriend,’” Rayliss said. “Yeah,” Darla agreed. “He was more like a reverse booty call. The toughest thing was getting him to meet her. When he showed up, she jumped his bones.”

  “He told her he wasn’t interested,” Rayliss said. “But he couldn’t turn it down.”

  “His lips said no, but his dick said yeah!”

  Darla shot Erica another look and there was so much challenge in it, it took her breath away. Why was everyone looking at her? Darla was suggesting... What was she suggesting?

  The memory of the steamy shower at the shop flashed in her mind. And Melo
dy’s words “targeted the woman’s husband” reverberated through her head.

  A sick pit of emptiness formed in her stomach. No, no, no, she assured herself. This had nothing to do with her. Callie may have hooked up with somebody, but that meant nothing to her. It had nothing to do with Tom. But still, Erica looked down at her salad and felt sick.

  “Once was not enough, of course,” Darla said. “He was reluctant to get going, but when she got him started, he really had an appetite. Callie said it was like he was starved for it. She gave him an A+ for technique and bonus points for stamina.”

  Erica looked up to see every face turned in her direction. Their expressions were curious, questioning, as if they were watching for her reaction. They seemed strangely amused, except for Melody, who was wide-eyed and shocked.

  It’s not true, she mentally chided her lack of faith. Tom would not, could not, be unfaithful. Their marriage mattered too much to them both.

  But then why, why were these women looking at her? Why were they expecting some response from her? It was crazy. It was impossible. It was sickening.

  How she got through the next few moments, she didn’t know. She forced herself not to rise from her seat, not to run to the safety and solitude of the ladies’ room or the familiar territory of her cubicle. She sat at the table, forking pieces of tasteless lettuce into her mouth.

  It’s a lie. It’s a mean, cruel lie. Don’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing how their comments affect you.

  These were lies, Erica assured herself over and over again.

  They had to be lies. Although running alongside those mental expressions of certainty were tiny flashes of unhappy memory—the empty shop, the weeks of unexplained secretiveness and Quint’s words, “the woman at the hospital that he bought flowers for.”

  Purposely she forced herself to recall another scene, now a decade old, standing on the courthouse steps. The wind blew through Tom’s hair as he vowed “to love, honor and cherish, as long as we both shall live.”

  Finally the seemingly unending lunch break was winding down, and Erica was able to leave the table, still holding her head high. On her way back to the department, she stopped by the restroom, as she always did, but didn’t even bother to repair her lipstick.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were pale. Her eyes looked hollow. Was this the look of a wronged woman?

  “It’s not true,” she said aloud. Then she punctuated that comment by the sudden need to race to the commode, where she vomited the hateful lunch she’d just eaten.

  Chapter 14

  WITH SHEER FORCE OF WILL, Erica managed to avoid tearing up through the rest of workday. By the time she got on the bus, where theoretically she could have gone on a self-indulgent crying jag in front of strangers, she was no longer really in the mood.

  She was sure it wasn’t true. So instead of allowing the lie to eat at her and urge her to doubt, she would bring it right out in the open. She would share with Tom what her coworkers had suggested and ask him to tell her the truth.

  The plan was a good one, she thought. And a very different approach than what her mother would have come up with. Ann Marie would already be playing private detective, borrowing a friend’s car to shadow him. Searching through his laundry for phone numbers, lipstick stains or worse. She’d be tracking the mileage on his truck and checking his cell phone while he was in the shower for every number dialed or received.

  Then, by the time Ann Marie notified her divorce lawyer, she’d have a complete list of her husband’s assets and would know which ones she wanted for herself.

  But that was Erica’s mother. And those men were her mother’s husbands. Erica knew she had chosen better. And she wasn’t about to believe the worst of Tom.

  She got off at her stop and walked to the shop, thinking about the discussion she and Tom would have. Maybe he would be home for dinner tonight, and they would laugh together and listen to Quint. And then after their son was put to bed, it would be just the two of them. She’d tell him everything. He would be incredulous. He would hold her and explain everything to her and reassure her that it was all the worst kind of office gossip.

  Yes, that was exactly how it was going to go. And she could hardly wait.

  When she arrived at the shop, she went into the office to greet Quint. She kissed him on the top of the head and then listened as he related, in minute detail, how Maddycinn Guerra had “totally messed up” the spelling test.

  “She forgot to write down the study words from the board,” Quint said. “So she couldn’t study and she missed three. Three! She never misses any. She started crying and she couldn’t stop.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Erica said.

  “You’re telling me,” Quint agreed dramatically. “I never heard such boo-hooing in my whole life. It was awful. Cody stuffed tissues in his ears to shut out the sound.”

  Quint was grinning. “He had the big white tissues sticking out of his ears. It made him look like a rabbit or something. And everybody laughed. But Maddycinn thought they were laughing at her, and she cried even more. That upset Mrs. Salinas, and she made Cody write ‘I will be kind to sad friends’ on the board ten times.”

  Erica managed to hide a smile.

  “Being kind to sad friends is a good thing to practice,” she told her son.

  Quint nodded. “Yeah, I know. But you ought to be sad over serious stuff like your cat dying or something. Nobody cries over spelling words.”

  “Well, apparently Maddycinn does,” Erica said. “Why don’t you get your stuff together while I talk to your dad?” Just before she turned toward the side door, she noticed the pile of fliers and envelopes on the edge of the desk.

  “Is this what the postman brought?” she asked Quint. The boy nodded.

  Erica absently flipped through the mail. She quickly sorted through it, but one envelope caught her attention. It had the bank’s return address but was too small to be the monthly statement. Erica opened it curiously. Inside she found a brand-new credit card, with a brand-new number. She hadn’t gotten rid of the card they already had, so this must be an additional card. That surprised her. She and Tom were very careful with credit and tried to pay in full every month. And the account they had already had more available balance than they ever hoped to need. Why on earth would Tom have applied for an additional card? She turned the sheet over and then glanced inside the envelope. There was only one card, one card with Tom’s name. That was curious as well. Every account they had ever had, had always been joint. Erica was an equal partner in Bentley’s Classic Car Care. In truth, without her good credit and her life savings Tom would never have been able to approach the bank for the start-up money. But she had been happy to be a part of it. It was his dream. And when she’d fallen in love with him, it became her dream, too.

  Erica put the card back in the envelope and set it on top of the other mail. She made no attempt to disguise the fact that she’d opened it. She and Tom had no secrets.

  Yes, that was right, she reminded herself. She and Tom had no secrets.

  Noise on the driveway drew her attention as a big silver SUV pulled into the parking spot in front of the door. Erica recognized the vehicle, of course.

  Trish Aleman emerged from the driver’s door. A minute later, her kids were climbing out of the back.

  “It’s Emily and Jordan,” Quint said excitedly, leaping down from his own seat to join them.

  He nearly barreled over Trish at the doorway as she called over her shoulder. “You kids stay outside, but keep away from the street.”

  She greeted Erica with a smile, though she seemed a bit more subdued than usual. Trish was one of those women who just seemed to have been born beautiful. She was a natural, with perfectly proportioned features, flawless skin and a lovely smile. Like a gifted artist she was able to improve that canvas by expert application of makeup and perfectly coiffed long, thick dark hair that hung down to her waist in shiny ripples. Today she had those brunette tresse
s pulled up in a neat ponytail.

  Why was it, Erica wondered, that when Trish put her hair in a ponytail, she looked young and vivacious? When Erica tried the same thing, she merely looked as if she hadn’t had time to do her hair.

  “Hey, Trish, what a nice surprise to run into you.”

  “We’ve got to make a point to see each other more often,” Trish said. “The kids love to play together.”

  That was true. Her children and Quint always had a great time. For the adults, however, it wasn’t always so perfect. The men worked together all week and had little or nothing left to say to each other at night or on a weekend. Trish and Erica should have lots in common, but Erica always felt as if she were in a competition and losing badly.

  “How are you doing?” Trish asked.

  “Great, great,” Erica replied. “How’s it going for you? Are the kids loving school this year?”

  The conversational question seemed almost to catch her off guard, as if she hadn’t really thought about it. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said. “How is Quint?” she asked, almost as an afterthought.

  “Doing great. He’s very excited about Halloween this year.”

  “Halloween? Oh yeah, when is that?” Trish asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Erica answered, surprised that Trish didn’t know. She seemed sort of out of it, distracted almost.

  Tom walked through the door from the shop. “Hi,” he said, including both women in the greeting. He snaked his arm around Erica’s waist and gave her a little squeeze, but his eyes were on Trish.