Call Me Lydia

by MaryAnn Myers

  "Home swimming laps!"

  Reed shook his head, having never felt such frustration with anyone, and sighed. "Check him out, Lydia, and go from there. Just don't jump to conclusions until then. Please..."

  "Fine! I'll do that. But I'll tell you this, there's something not right about that man. I can sense it."

  "And tell me you've never been wrong?"

  "No, Reed, I haven't," Lydia said, looking up at him with eyes as sure as when she'd told him Dan Morris wasn't coming back. "Not when the feeling's this strong. Not once, not ever. And I don't think I'm wrong now."

  Chapter Nine

  The next time Lydia talked to Reed it was after eight. She'd spent the day glued to the computer, elbows propped, chain smoking and drinking coffee, and had totally skipped lunch. So when he suggested they go out for dinner, she didn't think twice. "I'll meet you in the parking lot in five minutes."

  She swung by the cafeteria for a pack of cigarettes and a Hershey Bar and decided to go check on the machine Tony had fixed earlier. "It's running good," the operator replied when asked. That came as no surprise, though it did irritate her, not that she wanted the machine down.

  "Have you seen Tony Armato?"

  "He was just here a minute ago," the man said. "But someone needed him over in secondary."

  This too irritated her. Everyone seemed to need him. She made a point of bypassing that area of the shop on her way out.

  At the restaurant, Lydia didn't appear to notice that she had the attention of every man she passed, but Reed certainly did. One man even went so far as to nod to him as he whistled under his breath. And oh, what a feeling. For all they knew, she belonged to him, something he'd like very much. So much in fact, he didn't realize as he sat down across from her that he was staring at her breasts.

  "Oh Christ, Reed!" Lydia whispered, leaning forward. "Not you too?"

  He blushed instantly. "I'm sorry. It's just that uh..."

  Lydia shook her head. "Yeah, I know. They're big. And I hate them."

  "Why? They're beautiful," Reed said, still red in the face, but stealing another look. "Why on earth do you hate them?"

  "Because they're too big. They always get in the way. They get too much attention. And I haven't been able to sleep on my stomach comfortably since I was thirteen. That's why."

  Reed smiled. They weren't too big, they were perfect. Just like everything else about her. The shoulder-length brown hair that seemed to bounce with her every move, the olive green eyes, the softest-looking skin he'd ever seen...

  "Something from the bar?" a waiter asked.

  "I'll have a double Scotch, no ice."

  "A glass of white wine for me," Reed replied.

  Lydia smiled at his choice and commented on it when the waiter walked away. "How fitting. I would've figured you for white wine."

  "Oh?" Reed was floating somewhere between reality and a daydream. "Are you saying only a certain type of man chooses Chablis?"

  Oh Jesus, Lydia thought. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was flirting with him. She already had one relationship she didn't know what to do with. "Um... Greg drinks white wine, so maybe."

  Reed looked awakened. "Greg?"

  "Greg Stewart. We're sort of an item."

  Reed sat back, thinking how stupid it was to have hoped she'd be unattached. "There's a tennis player by that name."

  "Yeah, I know, it's the same guy," Lydia said matter-of-factly. "I met him while I was at Clairborn."

  Reed didn't want to ask, "Is it serious?" But he did, and Lydia smiled.

  "What's serious, is the situation at the plant."

  Reed found some comfort in that answer, and when the waiter put their drinks down, he reached for his in the midst of another daydream. One in which Greg Stewart was a nobody.

  "So what about you?" Lydia asked, tasting her Scotch.

  "Involved?"

  "Kind of."

  "Kind of? How's that?"

  Reed smiled self-consciously. "It's just not intense is what I meant. Not for me at least. And I want that."

  Lydia smiled.

  "It's sad too, because she's really nice and all. And she's really pretty. It's just..." He sighed. His mind was a blank.

  "There's just no...uh, urgency. Do you know what I mean?"

  Lydia nodded. She knew. She knew all too well. "Do you think she'd like to meet Greg?"

  Reed laughed. They raised their glasses in a mock toast, and with that, the two whiled away an hour and a half without once referring to work.

  "I feel like I've known you forever," Reed said, as they walked to their cars.

  Lydia smiled. "Is that anything like 'haven't we met before?’”

  Reed laughed and opened her door for her. "I'll be in a little late tomorrow. I have an appointment with one of the purchasing agents at Mago."

  "Oh? When did this come about?"

  "He called me this afternoon. He says he has some prints he wants me to look at."

  "Hmph." Lydia thought about that, along with something still bothering her about her meeting with Bob. "Well, good luck. I'll see you when you get in."

  When Lydia arrived at the plant the following morning after a restless night, she couldn't have been more pleased to see Tony's car gone. She decided to park at the side entrance, since it was closer to the stairs going up to the conference room and would also spare her having to face an empty lobby. She stopped for coffee in the cafeteria and headed for maintenance in search of Bill. He was at his desk, looking like she always felt after a night of Scotch. It made her wonder, especially with all of his absences.

  "I missed you yesterday. What's your excuse?"

  Bill smiled, but looked apprehensive in answering. "My son was sick. We'd been up the whole night with him."

  "The flu?"

  "Something like that. He's fine now."

  Lydia smiled. "And what about you? How's the hand?"

  "Almost as good as new."

  Lydia gazed down at the still swollen, purplish-blue area around his wrist. "Gee, I can tell."

  Bill had to laugh. "Who do you think you are, Florence Nightingale?"

  Lydia smiled. "Did you fill out your accident report yet?"

  “No, I’ll do it today."

  "Come on. We'll do it now."

  Bill started to object, but Lydia insisted, and they both went up to see Jan.

  "What about the part on Bluecross?" Lydia asked, leaning over his shoulder.

  "Uh...I'm not on it," Bill said, refusing to look up.

  "Why not? You've been here long enough."

  "I kept my old policy."

  “Why? What's wrong with ours? Don't you have to pay?"

  Bill shook his head, which told her absolutely nothing. But she could sense how nervous he was getting and let it go at that. At least he was filling it out. "I'll be in accounting," she told Jan.

  Bill waited until she was gone, then acted as if his hand slipped, ripping the form, and asked Jan for another. "I'll fill it out on my break," he said. "I’ll bring it back later."

  Lydia returned a few minutes after he left, carrying an armful of payroll records. "I'm going to be down in the confer­ence room, and so there's no more confusion, let's refer to it as my office from here on in."

  Jan nodded nervously.

  "And don't disturb me unless it's my dad, the president, or Bruce Springsteen."

  Jan started writing down what she'd said.

  "That was a joke, Jan. I was kidding."

  Jan crossed the note out and looked up with an anguished smile. "Yes, Miss Lydia."

  Lydia looked at her. "You plan on sticking with that, huh?"

  "If you don't mind. I' m just not comfortable calling you by your first name."

  "Fine," Lydia said, though she thought it was ridiculous, and wasn't downstairs more than five minutes, when Jan buzzed her on the intercom. "How dare you bother me?" she answered. "And so soon yet?"

  "I'm s-sorry," Jan stammered. "I know you said you didn'
t want to be disturbed unless..."

  Lydia rolled her eyes, convinced this woman had no sense of humor whatsoever. "What is it, Jan?"

  "It' s Mr. Armato. He asked for Mr. Reed, but I told him he wasn't in, and he asked for you then. I told him you were busy and didn't want disturbed, but he said it was important." She paused to catch her breath. "Do you want me to tell him...?"

  "No, I'll take it," Lydia said. "And please, lighten up. What line's he on?"

  "Three. Line three."

  Lydia hesitated before switching over. "Yes?"

  "I think I'm onto something," Tony said and paused, as if that were enough.

  "What?"

  "Remember how I was saying the production on third didn't figure?"

  “Yes.”

  "Well, I watched closer last night. And the two machinists who put out the most parts..." He paused again.

  "And?" God, Lydia thought, like pulling teeth.

  "Hold on a second." He covered the phone with his hand.

  Lydia could hear distant laughter. One sounded like a woman's.

  "Anyway, they both had too much scrap," music sur­rounded his voice “and yet came up with the right amount of parts."

  "So what do you make of it?"

  "I don't know. I couldn't watch any closer without being obvious. And then I got to talking to Will about it..."

  "Wait a minute," Lydia said. "When was Reed here?"

  Her question apparently irritated Tony, because not only did his tone change, he almost didn't reply. "Last night about one or so."

  Lydia thought for sure Reed said at the restaurant that he was going home. "I'm sorry. Go on."

  "It can wait," Tony said. "I'll be in around five."

  "Five? Why so late?"

  "I need to catch some sleep. I want to get through the night without leaning up against a wall or something."

  Lydia smiled. Talking to him on the phone was definitely easier. "All right, I'll see you then. But before you hang up, would you mind telling me what you were in prison for?"

  Tony made a noise, sounding a little like a laugh but more like a "hmph." Then, with the music sounding further away, he answered, "I don't think you really want to know."

  Lydia swallowed. "Why don't you tell me anyway."

  Tony hesitated, drawing a slow, thoughtful breath. "It was for voluntary manslaughter."

  Silence...

  "I told you, you didn't want to know."

  Again, all Lydia could manage was silence.

  "I'll see you at five."

  Lydia hung up with her heart pounding in her ears. Manslaughter? Voluntary? What the hell does that mean? That he did it on purpose? He certainly looked mean enough. Not that that should matter to her. So why did it? She had enough on her mind. She didn't need this. The company was crumbling down around her, crumbling down with a man convicted of manslaughter at the helm. "Oh Jesus!" What a thought.

  She grabbed the phone and dialed her father. "Betty, I need to talk to Dad."

  "I'm sorry, Miss Lydia, but he's gone to see you' s momma."

  Lydia propped her elbow on the table, sighing as she buried her face in her hand. "God, I wish George wouldn't take him there."

  "But, Miss Lydia."

  "I know. I know. He has no choice. I just wish..."

  "Miss Lydia?"

  "Yes?"

  "You's daddy been sayin' some strange things when no one's supposed ta' be listenin'. I've been wantin' ta' talk to you's about it."

  Lydia sat up. "Strange things? Like what?"

  "Funny things. Talkin' to himself and all. Talkin' about you's momma. More'n usual. I'm worried about him."

  Lydia was quiet for a moment. "Has he seen Dr. Jones lately?"

  "Yes mmmm, only he don't feel no better when he comes home. Sometimes worse. I keep prayin' to sweet Jesus."

  "Well, I'm sure that'll help," Lydia said, managing to sound sincere. "Meanwhile, maybe I'll call Dr. Jones. I'll let you know what he says."

  "Praise the Lord! It's so good havin' you's home, Miss Lydia. I feel so much better with you's bein' here."

  Lydia didn't exactly feel better, but kept that to herself and switching over to intercom then, dialed Jan. "Can you get me Dr. Jones's phone number? He's my dad's doctor, so maybe if you look..."

  "I have it right here," Jan said. "Would you like me to get him on the line?"

  "No, not just yet. Right now I need you to come down here. I want to hash a few things over with you."

  Jan gasped. "Have I done something wrong?"

  Lydia rolled her eyes. How one person could be this insecure was baffling. "No, Jan. I just..."

  "But Mr. Reed doesn't like the offices unattended."

  "Then lock the mothers up!"

  Jan gulped. "Yes, Miss Lydia. I'll be right down."

  Lydia hung up and while lighting a cigarette, thought of something else. She dialed Jan again. "Good, you're still there. I need to see the payroll checkbook, and I guess the corporate one too."

  "The ones in your father's office?"

  "Are there any others?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "Then why in the hell would you ask such a thing? Christ, Jan! You're driving me crazy!"

  "I'm sorry," Jan said, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean to upset you. I only..."

  "Please!" Lydia insisted. "Just bring them down when you come. And stop reading more into what I say. All right?"

  Jan sniffled. "Yes, Miss Lydia. I'll try."

  Hanging up totally frustrated, Lydia immediately started going through the payroll records. She got as far as Tony's, which she found a little hard to believe and flipping through the rest to Reed's, sat back shaking her head. "Oh great! Another mystery!"

  Reed came in then, carrying the checkbooks and a large manila envelope. Lydia greeted him indignantly. "Where the hell's Jan?"

  Reed hadn't been able to get Jan to tell him why she was crying, but now he figured it probably had something to do with Lydia's mood. "I think I'll go out and come back later,"

  he said.

  "Oh no. By all means, stay. I've got a few things on my mind I need to talk about. And seeing as Jan's guarding the upstairs, you'll have to do."

  Reed sat down, sighing heavily. "Jan.'s not guarding anything. I just thought since I was coming down anyway..."

  "Oh yeah? Then why doesn't she take lunch?"

  Reed answered defensively. "I want the phones covered. Now more than ever. The last thing we need is for the switchboard operator to be telling our customers there's no one in the offices."

  That made sense, but still. "Why did you come back here last night?"

  Reed glanced off, shaking his head. "Is that what this is about?"

  “Partly. And I'd like an answer. A plain and simple one. I'd also like to know how you justify paying Tony so much. I think we could probably get God for less. This is ridiculous!"

  Reed disagreed. "He's getting exactly what he's worth, for what he knows. By the way, this private eye shit of yours is getting a little old."

  Lydia appeared shocked by this declaration, but instead of getting angrier, she laughed. "Oh really? Well I think the questions are appropriate. His salary's higher than yours, for Christ sake. Doesn't that bother you?"

  "No," he said, sitting back. "Not in the least."

  Lydia sensed otherwise. It did bother him, though not nearly as much as she thought it would. "Tell me why you were here last night."

  Reed swallowed. "I decided to come back and go through the old Mago files; old quotes, cost sheets, everything. Every job we'd ever done for them. I wanted to be better prepared for my meeting this morning."

  Lydia lit a cigarette, studying him.

  "And while I can understand your being suspicious of a lot of things and a lot of people, why me?"

  Lydia smiled faintly. "I'm sorry. But I just don't know how you figure." She didn't. Because he still wasn't being honest with her, not totally.

  "Your father set up an incentive program for
me. I'll get profit sharing and bonuses." He sat back and smiled. "I told you, this company's my future."

  Lydia lowered her eyes, wishing there was someone she could talk to. Someone she was sure she could trust.

  "Now, do you want to hear how it went at Mago?"

  She looked up. "Sure, tell me all about it."

  "Well, it was really strange. Those prints he wanted me to look at." He picked up the manila envelope. "They're all jobs for a smaller house. A thousand of one, five hundred of another. We'll hardly be competitive."

  "Maybe he didn't know."

  Reed shook his head. "No, that's the strange part. He says Bob Miller pulled them for us."

  Lydia looked at him. "Bob did? That is strange." Because he would definitely know.

  "Maybe he's feeling guilty," Reed said, "and thinking maybe every little bit he can throw this way..."

  "Or maybe just trying to make a point."

  Reed frowned. "What point's that?"

  Lydia took a drag off her cigarette and shrugged. "I don't know. I just keep getting a feeling that this is all for a purpose, that it's all connected somehow."

  Reed smiled. She wasn't upset anymore, and he was the one who'd calmed her down. He was good for her. They were good together. He felt it last night. And he was feeling it now. He opened the envelope and took the prints out. "I thought when Tony came in, I'd have him take a look and see if he could figure out a way to run them without a major setup."

  "Oh Christ!" Lydia said. "Of course he'll figure it out! Why, I can just see him out there now, leaping tall machines in a single bound and the whole bit!"

  Reed laughed.

  "Are you sure you aren't sleeping with his sister?"

  Reed shook his head, laughing again, and Lydia reached for the checkbooks. "Well, here goes nothing."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Make sure these are correct."

  "Want some help?"

  "Are you packing a calculator?"

  "It just so happens that I am," Reed said, smiling as he reached into his lapel pocket.

  "All right, you do payroll and I'll do corporate." Halfway down the first page of figures, she said, "Oh, I just remem­bered. Tony called earlier."

  Reed raised an eyebrow, fearing another tantrum. "He says he's onto something."

  "When's he coming in?"