Generations Page 6

  “Agreed.” Andrew glanced up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs and saw Marissa and Tabs coming down. He’d wondered where they were—he’d seen the car outside, but hadn’t caught sight of them yet. His stomach gave a little flip. He needed to talk to Marissa and try to smooth things over, but he had no idea how. Just that she looked beautiful at that moment, with her hair pulled back.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then. See you, ladies.” Tony lifted his hand in a wave, then left.

  “Morning, Andrew,” Tabs said, glancing back and forth between him and Marissa like she’d been expecting one of them to speak first.

  “Morning. How’s it going?”

  “We got the measurements for all the bedrooms on the second floor, and we measured for the new hallway flooring as well,” Marissa said, sounding a little more businesslike than she had the previous day. “There’s a staircase to an upper attic, but we wanted to check the home inspection reports before we went up there just to be on the safe side.”

  “Good idea. I have that in here.” Andrew led the way into the office and picked up the file from the desk. “Yes, they inspected it, and they said it’s safe.”

  “Do you have any idea what you want to do with that space?” Marissa asked.

  “I don’t. Maybe something will come to us as we’re working on the rest of the building.” Andrew ran his finger along the edge of the desk, trying to find the words for what he really wanted to say. “Marissa, I’m sorry about last night.”

  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said. “I was blaming you for all my past troubles, and that wasn’t fair.”

  “Well, I was being stubborn, and I shouldn’t have been.”

  “Yeah? Well, I was overreacting and prideful.”

  He crossed his arms. “I was scared. So there.”

  They stared each other down. “So, I see how it is,” she said at last. “You’re just going to throw that out there and expect me to surrender.”

  “You know you can’t win this argument.”

  “Maybe, but that’s never stopped me from trying before.” A smile touched the corners of her lips. “Scared of what?”

  “Spiders, mostly.”

  She blinked. “Spiders? But there weren’t any spiders at the restaurant last night. At least, none that I saw.”

  “It wasn’t spiders I was scared of last night.”

  “So what was it?”

  “You.”

  She blinked again. “Me?”

  “Yup.”

  “But I’m not a spider.”

  “I know. Weird, right?”

  She put a hand on her hip. “So, if I’m not a spider, why were you scared of me?”

  Andrew looked down at the floor, then back up again. “You know, I thought about that all last night, and it was the most confusing conversation with myself I’ve ever had. But then I had a chat with Florence, my housekeeper, and she helped me out quite a bit.”

  “She kills the spiders at your house, I imagine.”

  “Actually, Jimmy does. Well, in reality, he catches them and releases them outside. It really doesn’t matter to me as long as they aren’t inside anymore.”

  “So you’re very benevolent in your rejection of spiders.”

  “Absolutely. I’m benevolent in all my rejections. It just seems like the right way to be.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “So, what did Florence say to you that helped you figure out why you’re so scared of me?”

  “I can’t tell you that—it’s long and complicated and quite personal, and you shouldn’t pry.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll tell you what I learned from what she said, though, and that’s almost as good. I think I could come to care about you, and that scares me quite a bit.”

  Marissa tilted her head to the side. “It scares you that you might care for me?”

  “Yup.”

  “You must not have very many friends.”

  “Mostly just Tony. But he doesn’t make me feel the way you do.”

  “Oh? And how is that?”

  Crud. She was going to make him spell it out. He should have known that, though, given how she rose to every challenge he presented her. “Like I’m having a panic attack and might need to see a doctor.”

  “Oh? That good?”

  “That good.”

  She gave him a compassionate look. “I’ve heard vitamin B is good for hearts.”

  “I’ve never taken it. I’ll have to give it a try.”

  “It’s pretty cheap, so you’re not out a lot if it doesn’t work.”

  “What if it doesn’t work because it’s you making me feel that way? Should you take the vitamin B?”

  She gave him a disbelieving look. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “You scare me too, you know, and I don’t scare easy.”

  “How am I scary?”

  “Well, for starters—we’re being totally real here, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. For starters, you’re possibly the best-looking guy I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something because I’ve designed some sets for a couple of soap operas, and those guys are hot.”

  “I accept that compliment in the spirit in which it was offered.”

  “Good. And second of all, I have this weird little feeling in my gut whenever I see you, sort of like that time I ate the day-old sushi. You weren’t there, so you don’t remember it, but it wasn’t pleasant.”

  “Are you saying I make you want to throw up?”

  “I’m saying, I want to throw up, but I don’t actually do it. There’s a difference.”

  “Oh, yes. A very marked difference.”

  “I think so.”

  Andrew reached out and caught her hand, holding it in his. “So, what are we going to do?”

  She looked down at their intertwined fingers. “I think we have two choices.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Either we go to the doctor because we’re both dying from some kind of weird disease, or we investigate this and see where it goes.”

  “I don’t want to die,” he replied.

  “Then let’s see where this goes.”

  He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “I think I like that idea.”

  Chapter Seven

  Andrew leaned back in his desk chair and scowled. Ten applicants for the position of business manager, and not one of them had more brains than God gave a goat. And no, he didn’t want to hire a goat—he just wanted a person who was smarter than one.

  “Florence,” he said a moment later when she came in with his lunch, “I have too many desks and too many desk chairs. I have this desk here, one at the downtown office, and one at the hotel. What does one person need with so many desks?”

  “So you can feel important wherever you go?” she suggested, sliding his plate in front of him. “Desks do seem to carry more authority than just a table or a chair.”

  “But I like tables and chairs. In fact, I think we need more of them.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “Marissa doesn’t even have an office anymore. She works entirely from home.”

  “You could give that a try,” Florence replied. “I don’t know how the board of directors would feel about that, though—holding meetings in the living room.”

  “They’d get used to it eventually.” Andrew took another bite, then chewed slowly as a thought came to him. By the time he swallowed, it still seemed like a good idea, so he decided to say it. “Florence, are you happy here?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Of course. I’m very happy. Is something wrong?”

  “Absolutely not. That’s why I’m even bringing this up. Tony thinks I should hire a business manager.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that.”

  “Well, what if I think you’d do a great job and I’d like to offer you the position?”
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br />   She sat down heavily in the chair across from his desk. “You want me to be your business manager?”

  “I can’t think of anyone better. You’ve managed me all these years, haven’t you? You practically read my mind, you’re thoughtful and logical, and I trust you more than anyone in the world.”

  “I . . . I really don’t know what to say.” She fingered the button on her cuff. “Who would run the house?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll worry about that later. Right now, I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

  “My thoughts. My goodness. I don’t know if I have any.” She looked bewildered. “What would I be doing, exactly?”

  “You’d act as my personal secretary. You’d help interview the staff and oversee them. You’d make phone calls for me, meet with the contractors—you’d basically be my right-hand man. Er, woman.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She looked at him with a worried expression. “Aren’t I too old to be taking on something like this? Wouldn’t everyone expect someone younger and more experienced?”

  “All I know is that every time I’ve needed to be whipped into shape, you’ve done a fantastic job of it,” he told her. “Take a little time to think about it, all right? I don’t need an answer right now.”

  “All right.” She stood up. “I’ll give it some good thought. I’m just flabbergasted, I really am.”

  He was actually pretty flabbergasted too—not that he’d made her the offer, but that he hadn’t thought of it days earlier. She was such an obvious choice that he felt like kicking himself, but then he chuckled. If she accepted the post, kicking him would be part of her job.

  ***

  “If we put the credenza here, up against this wall, this creates a better traffic flow for the room,” Marissa said, holding up her hands like a movie camera. “Then people can walk over to the closet freely.”

  “I see,” Andrew said with a nod. “Credenza. Traffic flow. Gotcha.”

  She lowered her hands and gave him an exasperated look. “Have you even been listening?”

  “I’ve been listening, but I’ve been watching even more, and I have to say, I like what I’m seeing.”

  She looked around. They were standing in the center of a completely empty room. “What are you looking at?”

  “You.” He reached out and slid his arm around her waist, and her heart sped up a little bit. This was the first time they’d been alone since they’d agreed to give this relationship thing a try, and the first time he’d ever been this close to her. She stepped into his full embrace, and he smiled down into her eyes. “It’s so much fun to watch you make all these plans. Your eyes sparkle and you almost bounce a little bit. You’re like a bunny. A cute interior-design bunny.”

  “I don’t think there are such things as interior design bunnies,” she replied.

  “Oh, there definitely are. And you’re one.” He ran a finger along her jaw line. “Thank you for what you’re doing here. I’m impressed every day by what you’re coming up with. I think we can actually make a go of it.”

  “Of course we can. Otherwise, we’re sure wasting a lot of time.” She was finding it hard to breathe because he was so close, and the anticipation was killing her. If he didn’t kiss her within the next three seconds, she was going to grab his face and plant one on him, and she wouldn’t feel at all guilty because she’d only be doing what he was supposed to be doing all along.

  He put her out of her misery, though, by lowering his face to hers and giving her the softest, sweetest, nicest kiss she’d ever been given. Then he grinned against her lips. “I think kissing is something we do well.”

  “I would have to agree,” she replied.

  “But there’s one thing that has to happen before anything else,” he went on. “I need you to come home with me for dinner tonight and meet Florence. She’s my rock—she’s been everything to me since my mother died, and until you’ve met her, well, I’m sorry, but we can’t kiss again.”

  “We can’t?”

  “Nope. If she doesn’t approve of you, we can never kiss again.”

  “That sounds quite serious. Do you think she’ll like me?”

  “I think she’ll adore you, but again, until you’ve met, we have to be careful.” He stepped back and held his hands up. “I really shouldn’t even touch you.”

  “I’m quite surprised you touched me in the first place, if she’s that powerful,” Marissa said with a grin.

  “Well, see, first I had to make sure I wanted to keep kissing you. It’s a complicated system, really.”

  “I can see that. So, what time’s dinner?”

  “Let’s leave here at five and head over together, and then I can bring you back here for your car when we’re done. Does that work for you?”

  “It does. And in the meantime, no touching.” She paused. “That means you’re going to need to scoot out of the way so I can walk out the door.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” He took two steps to the left, and she shook her head as she passed him. What a completely loveable dork.

  ***

  “So I now have all the furniture for the bedrooms in the main part of the hotel ordered,” Marissa said, noticing how interested Florence seemed to be in everything she was saying, unlike some people who had only pretended to be interested earlier that day. “When we get the plans for the addition, I can start coming up with something for those, but I’m working with what we’ve got for now.”

  “Which is the best way to go about it,” Florence said approvingly. “More potato salad?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Marissa had been delighted to enter the house and find that Florence was everything Andrew had made her out to be. She was somewhat bowled over by the house itself and was worried that she’d get lost in it, but so far, she’d only needed to walk from the front door to the kitchen and from the kitchen to the dining room, and that was simple enough that nothing dreadful had happened along the way.

  She took some more potato salad, then passed it down to Andrew. He’d been quiet during the meal, letting the two women chat, and Marissa appreciated that. She wanted Florence to like her—for certain romantic reasons, of course—and she thought it would be a lot easier without Andrew in the mix. It was rather admirable, the way he was trying to be invisible.

  “I’ve made a decision,” Florence said when there was a lull in the conversation. “As you know, Andrew, I’ve been a housekeeper for a large percentage of my life, and I enjoy it very much. I enjoy the families I’ve worked with, especially yours. I have a sense of loyalty to you, and I don’t want to break that bond in any way.”

  “You couldn’t—” Andrew began, but she held up a hand to silence him.

  “I’ve decided that becoming your business manager is what you most need from me right now, and so that’s what I’m going to do. It will be a big stretch, but I like to be bossy from time to time, so overseeing a staff shouldn’t strain me too badly, and you never know—I might find that I like it.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “You seem a little hesitant.”

  “That’s mostly because I’m nervous about taking on the new responsibilities, but I definitely want to do it. I’ve given it all the thought you asked for, and who knows—I might actually get excited about it.”

  “Thank you, Florence,” he told her. “This is a huge weight off my shoulders. And please know that we can get you an assistant or anything else you need to make this easier.”

  “Thank you. Right now we need to be thinking about a new housekeeper. You need someone a little older, like me, someone who won’t distract you on your busy days.”

  Marissa raised an eyebrow. “He’s distracted by a pretty face, is he?”

  “Most men are, dear, whether they want to be or not. I think she should be at least forty-five.”

  “And if she had a wart on the end of her nose, that would be even better,” Marissa added.

  “Oh, yes. A wart. I wish I’d thought of that myself.”

 
Andrew chuckled. “All right—I feel like you’re having a lot of fun at my expense. I guess I have an announcement of my own.”

  “Well, best be out with it,” Florence said. “No sense in prolonging the news.”

  “I won’t be needing a housekeeper because I’ve decided to sell the house.”

  Florence’s fork clattered to the table. Marissa looked between the two of them, trying to figure out what had just happened. “You’re selling the house?” Florence finally managed to say.

  “I think it’s time. I only bought it because Mom liked it and she needed a peaceful place to hide away during those last few weeks of her life, and it’s filled with memories everywhere. The hotel, however, has that whole private quarters area back behind the office. If you as the guest don’t know there are rooms back there, you never will find out, and that appeals to me—privacy, but I’d still be on hand if something were to come up.”

  “That makes sense, but it will still be hard to see this place go.” Florence turned to Marissa with a smile. “We all must move on wherever the wind takes us. That’s the only way we can fly.”

  “I’ll talk to Jimmy tomorrow,” Andrew said. “I want to put him in charge of the flowerbeds at the hotel.”

  “Perfect task for him.”

  Florence sat back, but only allowed herself a moment’s rest before she stood. “I’ll clear the table and then we can have dessert.”

  Marissa stood too. “I’m going to help clear the table and then politely refuse the dessert. I’m not trying to be a party pooper—I’m just trying to cut down on my sweets as of the first of the month. So far, I’ve eliminated water, carrots, and cucumbers.”

  Florence laughed. “I completely understand.”

  By the time evening was over, Marissa and Florence were good friends, and Florence had told Andrew—in front of Marissa—that she approved.

  “I know that means a lot to you,” Marissa said as they walked out to his car.

  “It really does. I knew you’d pass with flying colors, though.” He opened the door for her, then walked around and took his own seat.