His Uptown Girl. Gail Sattler

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      “Yes.”

      Chapter Four

      Bob unlocked the door to the lobby promptly at 7:00 am, punched in the alarm code, then headed straight for the coffee machine.

      He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed coffee so badly.

      At first he’d been a little nervous about going to the twenty-four-hour donut shop with George alone, but today he had no regrets. They’d talked, they’d laughed and they’d talked some more. It was well after midnight by the time they’d realized they both should have been home asleep. Bob couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired after a weekend, but he also couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much.

      It told him it had been too long since he’d set the worries of the business aside, and gone out to do something just because it was fun. Now that he had help in the shop, he could look forward to trying some new things.

      People started coming in before the coffee was ready, dropping off their cars on the way to work.

      Bart arrived as usual at seven-thirty and George arrived with enough time to run into the washroom, change and be at her station for eight o’clock.

      Bob shook his head. He had no idea why she did such a thing, but he had to admit he enjoyed watching her run by before she re-emerged in the shapeless coveralls.

      When the washroom door opened, Bob had her coffee poured, complete with double cream and no sugar.

      “Thanks, Bob,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes to take her first slow, luxurious sip, then sighed. “What’s lined up for today?”

      “About the same, nothing critical. We’ll get the morning rush caught up, then you can get back to the bookkeeping.”

      “Okay.” She nodded, then took a bigger sip of the hot coffee. “The way you’ve got me splitting my duties is working really well. I’m making good progress.”

      Bob smiled. He was pleased with how fast she was getting everything organized, and Adrian would be even more pleased. “Great. We’ve got the usual tune-ups lined up for the morning, but after lunch I’ve got some bigger jobs for you.”

      He started to go over the row of work orders pinned to the board with George when the electronic chime for the door sounded.

      They both turned simultaneously as a tall, good-looking man in an expensive suit walked in.

      George fumbled her coffee mug, spilling a little over the edge. A splash of coffee dribbled onto one boot.

      Bob stared at this new potential customer, one better dressed than the majority of people who walked in off the street. He’d probably had a breakdown mid-trip, as the neighborhood wasn’t exactly the center of the high-rise financial district.

      Instead of looking at Bob, as most potential customers did when they needed help, the newcomer only had eyes…and raised eyebrows, for George. He surveyed her from head to safety-workboot covered toes.

      “Hello, Georgette.”

      Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Hello, Tyler.”

      Tyler gazed around the room, taking in everything from the work board to the coffee machine to the old couch, and treating Bob as just another furnishing. Bob tried not to take it personally.

      “I need some work done on my car.” Tyler focused on the crest on George’s coveralls, blinked, then looked back up to her face. “Can you help me?”

      George cleared her throat. “What seems to be the problem? With your car.”

      “It, uh… It makes this noise every once in a while, and I thought I should have it looked at.”

      It was Bob’s gut feeling that there wasn’t really anything wrong with Tyler’s car, and that Tyler was there only to see George.

      To give them some privacy, he walked into the shop.

      “Hey, Bob, did you see what just pulled in?”

      He turned toward Bart. I don’t want to know what Tyler drives, Bob thought. “What?” he asked.

      Bart jerked his head in the direction of Bay Four’s open door.

      He could see a shiny new Porsche through the large opening.

      A Porsche so new that any alleged noise would be covered by the warranty, and could be fixed at the dealership.

      Bob resolutely ignored the car, fixing his attention instead on the large window between the office and the shop. George was standing at the counter, writing something down. Tyler was leaning forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

      “Looks like you’ve got competition,” Bart’s voice drifted from behind him.

      Bob spun around.

      “No one is competing,” he mumbled, then began searching through his tool caddy for just the right wrench.

      “If you say so.” Bart shrugged, then turned around to continue his current project.

      As soon as Bart was busy, Bob turned to watch Georgette.

      She didn’t seem very excited to see her acquaintance, and Bob didn’t know why he found that comforting. Her behavior reinforced it—she shook her head a few times, then glanced through the window, straight at him.

      Bob quickly turned his head down and continued his search for the wrench. When he found his spare, he picked it up and turned to continue the job he was supposed to be doing when the movement of the door of Tyler’s Porsche opening caught his eye. Slowly and carefully, the Porsche was backed out of the parking spot and driven away, purring like the well-tuned machine it was, not a suspicious noise to be heard.

      Bob pulled the rag out of his pocket, wiped his hands, and returned to the lobby, where George was busily typing purchase orders into the computer.

      “I see your friend left.”

      He waited for her to deny that Tyler was her friend, but she didn’t.

      “I told him that if he thought there was a problem, he should take it back to the dealership where he got it, because anything wrong would still be under warranty.”

      He again waited for her to say something more, anything, but silence hung between them.

      He cleared his throat and stepped behind the counter. “Let’s go over today’s lineup together.”

      She nodded silently as he paged through the orders. When he’d divided up the work for the day, she logged off the computer, picked up her pile, and made her way quietly into the shop.

      Bob couldn’t remember the last time a day had dragged this way. Even though the three of them didn’t talk any more or any less than they had in the past week, a heavy silence seemed to hang in the building, despite the constant noise of their repair work.

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