Chapter 11
It had been a full week since she’d last seen Lucas. Their date and near-kiss had been last Monday, and since then, her only contact with him had been several short handwritten notes left on the kitchen counter.
It was ridiculous; she’d thought that her days of courting boys by passing notes to and from them were long past. But here she was, thirty-five years old, a successful business owner, and she was conducting her love life just as she had back in the tenth grade. Except it was even worse than that; back then, she’d actually managed to kiss some of the boys she liked.
She had tried to find him. Last Wednesday, after a full day of no sightings and no phone calls, she’d looked up the address for Romance Heating and Plumbing, and, finding that it was only three blocks from the restaurant, she’d scooted her way over there. But of course he wasn’t around. She’d tried again on Friday morning, right before her final meeting with the drywall guy, and again there was no sign of him.
When she’d gotten back to the restaurant, she’d discovered that he had been looking for her, and he’d left a note. It was all business, though: the parts to finish the work upstairs were still not in, and he’d come back on Monday to check in. There’d been no “I had a great time Monday afternoon,” no “I’ll call you tonight,” nothing at all to indicate that they’d had a moment – more than a moment, really.
He obviously hadn’t called, but now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever given him her number, so he had an excuse for that, at least. She hadn’t called him, either, and she had no such excuse. The phone number for his office was right there on his awful, ten-years-out-of-date website.
She could give him a little more time; it had been a week already, what was another couple of hours? He’d said he would check in on Monday, and it was Monday, and he hadn’t actually ever lied to her, as far as she knew.
In the meantime, she checked her to-do list, even though she knew almost everything on it was either done, or would have to wait until Ash arrived in town this coming weekend. The electrical work was finished and inspected and approved. The drywall was all up and ready to be painted. The appliances in the kitchen still weren’t hooked up, but they were right where they needed to be. The cupboards and closets were filled with cleaning supplies and non-perishable pantry items – Ash hadn’t asked her to do that, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. And the new HVAC system was installed, and keeping the whole place at a comfortable 74 degrees.
Besides the upstairs plumbing, the only work that remained required Ash’s approval. There was furniture to order, painting to be done, and all the other tasks to turn the parlor and living room into the dining room for the restaurant. Dori couldn’t do any of that for Ash, but she’d done the next best thing. She had picked out three good options and secured a promise of twenty-four hour delivery from the Northwestern Restaurant Supply Company outlet in Portland, so all her friend had to do was make a choice and a single phone call to get everything done.
Dori decided to head outside. It was a beautiful day, sunny and a little bit breezy, with a pleasant chill in the air. She made her way out to the street on her crutches, with Little Tee’s leash tied to the right one. She knew her doctor – and really, any rational person – would be horrified, but Tee had yet to try and run away from her. As silly as it was, the dog seemed to know what the crutches were for, and that tugging on her leash would be very bad.
“What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” It was Lucas, shouting at her, his eyes wide, pointing at the leash with a trembling hand. “Do you want to break the other leg, too?”
She wanted to ask him, if he was so concerned about her well-being, why he hadn’t managed to speak to her for a whole week. But she pushed that thought away. “Tee knows not to run away. She’s the smartest dog I’ve ever seen. But if it makes you feel better,” she untied the leash one-handedly, and offered it to Lucas, “you can take her.”
He did. “I do feel better. I don’t care how smart she is, she’s still a dog, and all it takes is one squirrel or stray cat and she’ll be off like a shot.”
“Well, thank you for saving me from the squirrel menace, then.” It came out a little more sarcastic than she’d intended, but after ignoring her for a week, he’d earned it. On the other hand, he might think she’d ignored him, and he was acting gallant, for lack of a better word. He was also exhausted, judging by the circles under his eyes, and the way he could barely keep his head from drooping. “You look beat. You want to come inside? I finally figured out how to work the espresso machine yesterday. These professional ones are more complicated than they look.”
The promise of extra-caffeinated drinks did the trick, and he led the way back into the restaurant, holding the door open for her. Once she made her way back to the kitchen, she went straight for the machine. A minute later, she handed him a small, steaming cup.
“Oh, my God,” he said after the first sip. The effect was instantaneous; his body was shaking from head to toe from the sudden jolt of caffeine and sugar. “What did you put in this?”
“It’s my big sister’s special pick-me-up recipe. Triple espresso, with double sugar, whole milk – none of that skim nonsense – and half a teaspoonful of dark chocolate syrup.” It was guaranteed to perk up the most tired and listless person. “I’m glad you like it.”
Lucas was still shaking. “I’m not sure about ‘like.’ I’m thinking it ought to come with a warning label.” That was probably true, but anyone far enough gone to need the Mary Costello special wasn’t going to be in any state to read one.
“Mary’s a lawyer, so she’d probably agree with you,” Dori said. “But you needed it. You looked like death warmed over a minute ago. I guess you had a busy weekend.” There, she’d given him an opening to explain himself.
He took it. “Not just the weekend. I don’t think I’ve had five minutes to myself since we got back from Passion Lake last Monday. Just one job after another, it’s been crazy.”
There was the slightest hint of an apology in his voice, or at least Dori chose to hear one. Besides, she knew first-hand how hectic the life of a business owner was. “But that’s good, right? More business never hurts.” Unless you were running your business single-handedly, as she knew Lucas was. He had never said anything about how difficult things were for him, but it was obvious from the way he was running himself ragged. And also by what she’d seen when she had gone over to his office last Wednesday.
There was a garage big enough to comfortably hold four trucks, but three-quarters of the space was filled with storage crates, and there was just one empty space to house the one truck Lucas still owned. Clearly, at one point, he had owned four trucks, but not anymore. Now, as far as she could tell, it was just him and his last remaining truck.
“Yeah,” he said, somewhat unconvincingly. “Except I had to spend way too much time tracking down parts to get all the work done. Speaking of which,” he tilted his head up, “I still don’t have what I need to finish the bathroom. I guess I’m going to have to go out to the supplier in person and see what the heck is going on.”
Dori had a guess about that, which tied into the reason he only owned one truck. “I don’t have anything left to do here this morning. I could come with you, if you want.” The offer came out without any thought behind it; it was just her instinct to help a fellow small-business owner in trouble. She realized he might take it as something more, maybe even see it as her asking him on a date. And maybe it actually was that; there was too much going on in her brain – and her heart – to untangle it all.
“I could use some company, sure.” He said it casually, or was it too casual? Was he trying to hide some deeper feeling? Was he secretly thrilled that she had made the first move this time?
There was only one way to find out.
~*~
The drive out to the big Pacific Plumbing Supply warehouse was almost forty minutes, and Lucas spent most of that time unburdening himself to Dori about his business woes. It had begun very impersonally, but by the time they saw the sign to turn off for Hillsboro, ten miles west of Portland, he was talking, totally unbidden, about feelings he’d never confessed to anyone else, or even himself. He told her what it was like to watch the thriving company he’d inherited from his father dwindle down to a one-man operation that was lucky to keep ahead of the monthly bills.
At some point during the ride, she had put her arm around him. He hadn’t even noticed her doing it; he’d just begun to feel slightly less alone and hopeless, and then he’d looked over to see what she’d done. She didn’t interrupt his monologue with questions or comments other than the occasional – and, he thought, heartfelt – “I totally understand,” or “yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
“Even after this last week – more work than I’ve had in a year – I’m barely keeping my head above water. I don’t know how I’m going to survive with those Nationwide people breathing down my neck.”
He turned into the driveway for the warehouse and pulled into a handicapped space. Dori was on crutches, after all.
“Nationwide?” She gave him a puzzled look, then nodded her head in recognition. “Are they the ones with that commercial, the one with the penguin and the lizard?”
He muttered a curse under his breath. Dori didn’t hear it, or at least pretended she didn’t. “It’s all I can do not to throw something at the TV every time it comes on. Nationwide Heat and Air.” He spoke in a mocking, angry tone, “’Whether you run hot or cold, we’ll be right there with you.’”
Lucas helped Dori and then her dog out of the truck, continuing to mutter, while she continued to ignore it. “Well, let’s just worry about you right now, and you can tell me what you really think of the penguin and the lizard on the way back.”
He had no shortage of choice words for his corporate rival or its spokesanimals; he could easily abuse them the entire ride home and never repeat himself once. “Fair enough.” He held the door open for Dori, and walked inside, looking around for any sign of the manager. He’d done business with Pacific for the last decade, and Walter had been the manager of this location the whole time. They weren’t friends, exactly, but for a purely business relationship, they were about as close as could be. “There he is.” He pointed the man out to Dori; a slightly overweight, not quite balding man in a shirt and tie reading from a clipboard over by the far wall. “Hey, Walter!”
The man turned, and even from fifty feet away, Lucas could see his face fall. “Wait there, I’ll be over in a minute,” he called out.
Lucas whispered to Dori, “Did you see his face? He gave me a look like I ran over his dog.” The poodle barked sharply. “It’s just an expression!” That earned him a low growl. “Anyway, something’s up with him.”
“Let’s hear what he’s got to say,” Dori said. Something in her tone suggested that she already knew what they would hear, and, more, that she had an answer ready for it. Lucas wasn’t sure how he felt about that. This was his business; he hadn’t asked for her – or anyone else’s – help.
“Lucas! How’s it going?” The cheer in the manager’s voice was forced. “What brings you all the way out here?”
He mustered up all the patience he could. “I’ve been having trouble getting some orders filled this last week. I figured I’d see if we can’t get it sorted out.”
“Let’s go over to my office,” Walter said. Thankfully for Dori, it wasn’t far to walk, and the manager held the door open for her and pulled out a chair. He sat himself behind a cluttered desk. “I’ve been having problems myself,” the man picked up a binder and waved it in the air. “Too many orders at once, and I can’t fill them all fast enough.”
This was a busy season, no doubt. But Walter had never had trouble filling orders before, and there had been much busier seasons than this chilly autumn. “I understand, but maybe I can put some orders in ahead of time, you think that would help?”
Walter frowned, and opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before finally speaking. “I – uh, I don’t think that would help, no.”
Dori spoke up, her voice bright and chipper. “Nationwide Heat and Air is pushing you to be exclusive, aren’t they?”
Lucas glared at her. What the heck did she know about the plumbing business? He was about to ask her exactly that, but he saw Walter’s eyes go wide in shock, and he realized Dori was exactly right. How had that not occurred to him? It wasn’t just the slow – or no – delivery the last week or two. Prices had been going up, pretty sharply for some items, just in the last few months, and that coincided with Nationwide opening up a new location in Dayton, not five miles from Romance.
“Of course not,” Walter said, but the man couldn’t look either he or Dori in the eye.
“I’m a businesswoman,” Dori said. “I know how it works. And my sister’s a lawyer on Wall Street. I’ve seen how these things go. They promise you all the orders you can handle, and they push out all the small local competition, and then they offer you the big exclusive contract. How am I doing so far?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “But here’s the thing. Once you sign that contract, everything changes. They’ve got all the power, and it’s never long before they start changing the rules on you. Remember ‘Empire Strikes Back?’ How Darth Vader keeps turning the screws on Lando? That’s what happens. Every time.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Walter was angry, but his voice was shaking, and Lucas could see that Dori was hitting very close to home. He also couldn’t help but be impressed at the way she’d used Star Wars to illustrate her point.
He just sat there, letting Dori continue. “I told you, my sister works on Wall Street. She writes contracts like the one they want you to sign. Here’s how that goes. They tell you to lower your price by fifteen percent, effective immediately. You say, I can’t, and you can’t tell me what to do anyway. And then they say, according to section five-hundred-and-twelve, subsection Q, paragraph fifty-eight, line sixteen, we can tell you exactly what to do, and if you don’t do it by tomorrow morning, you can expect paperwork from our lawyers.”
Walter was shaking now; Lucas almost felt sorry for him. “It’s not like that!”
“My sister went to Yale for law school,” Dori went on. “I will bet you cash money that every one of Nationwide’s lawyers went there or Harvard or Princeton. And so did all their accountants. And the guys in charge, well, do you remember how Michael Douglas was in ‘Wall Street?’” Walter gave a feeble nod. “Those guys would eat him for breakfast. You make your deal with Nationwide, and that’s who you’re up against.” She paused then, for what he assumed was dramatic effect, and then she went on, in a sympathetic tone, “Who do you have on your side of the table, Walter?”
Walter’s face had gone completely white. Now Lucas did feel sorry for him. He had no doubt that, even though Dori was exaggerating a bit, what she said was basically accurate. Surely all those smart and vicious corporate types were putting tremendous pressure on Walter to go exclusive and freeze him and all the other local companies out.
“This is Dori, by the way,” Lucas said, since Walter appeared incapable of speech for the moment. “I’m working with her on the old Scott house, you remember that big house on Georgiana St.? Her friend from New York is turning it into a restaurant, and they’re sparing no expense, but I can’t finish the job without the parts.”
Dori put her arm around him. Again. “Once people see how great it turned out, and what a fantastic job Lucas did, he’s going to have more work than he knows what to do with. Right, Lucas?”
He turned to her, grinning. “Right, Dori. As long as I can actually do the work. But I’m sure we can figure out a fair arrangement, can’t we, Walter?”