Closed Doors

by Nancy Radke

  "True," Jared answered. “I know how you feel.”

  Elenora threw her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him as he bent over. "Thank you, dearest. And thank you, too, Jared."

  "You have to give George lots of credit," Jared said, smiling. "He wouldn't let us do anything but our best."

  "Would you ever do less?" George asked.

  "No. Not intentionally."

  "You're going to accompany us through the locks, aren't you? That's one thing I've never done before, sailing in Florida and up the East Coast. I don’t think all of my crew members have been through, either."

  "Yes. I'll bring Larry along, too. He's taken a lot of boats through. Between us, we'll guide you the first few times."

  "I've heard there's been some disasters there."

  "Plenty of accidents, usually of the fender-bender type, but sometimes a larger boat will crush a smaller one to pieces. You need all hands on deck, ready to act instantly."

  Below, on the wharf, two small trucks arrived and backed in behind the tents.

  "The caterers have arrived," Jared pointed out. "I better make sure they know where we want everything." He excused himself and went down the stairs and Ellen moved closer to the windows, her gaze following him as he tended to business.

  After a brief conference with Jared, the caterers went right to work, draping white linen over the long serving tables and beginning to place dishes upon them.

  As the food was laid out, Ellen looked at her watch. It was already three. The time had sped by, as it always did when she was enjoying herself.

  "Let's go on down," Elenora suggested, re-joining her. “John and George are so busy, they won’t have time. I just realized I'm hungry."

  They did so, each getting a plate from the caterers and filling it with a few salad items. Not everything was laid out yet, but it helped to settle their immediate hunger. They sat down at one of the picnic tables and ate for a moment in silence.

  Ellen looked up every few seconds, watching for Jared, her gaze following him whenever he passed.

  "So, has he asked you yet?" Elenora said.

  Ellen paused, sending a cherry tomato rolling as she tried to fork it. "Huh? What?"

  "Are you two engaged? You and Jared?"

  "Why... no."

  "You better know what you want to say when he asks"

  "What makes you think...?” Ellen stopped, then tried again. "I can't tell if he's even interested. Do you know something I don't?"

  "Not really. But it never hurts to be prepared."

  Ellen smiled. "I wouldn't have to consider it very long."

  "He watches for you, too, you know."

  "He does?"

  "Just like John does for me. He looks around until he finds you, then stops searching."

  "I didn't notice."

  "No. You're too busy looking for him."

  Ellen wondered if her face was as red as it felt. It probably was, for the older woman chuckled, her brown eyes gleaming, then said, "Don't mind me. I always was a romantic. But once he’s found you, he goes back to whatever he was doing."

  A group of people had gathered at the bottom of the ramp, looking lost. "That's my sister," Elenora said, her voice flattening out as she motioned toward them. "And the rest of my family. I told them and my friends to come. I better go see to them." She stood up, pushing her chair back. "Take care. Don't forget what I said."

  Ellen figured her "duty" was done, so wandered around on her own. The six band members were beginning to take out their instruments, playing a few snatches of melody as they tuned up.

  Jared was busy, constantly being consulted. It made Ellen even more proud of him, if that were possible.

  Ten minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to begin, Jared stopped at Ellen's side, a bottle of champagne in his hand. "Want to help me a minute?" he asked.

  "Of course." She was thrilled to help.

  He looked past her and waved to a worker on a forklift. "Move the stairs in now, Billy," he called out, and the young man brought over some white portable stairs—six steep steps with a small platform on top—and set them into position under the bow.

  A line hung down from the rail overhead, with three colorful square flags attached. After the forklift backed away, Ellen followed Jared up the steps and held the net-covered bottle while he tied it onto the line. The bottle spun in tiny circles as she released it, and she steadied it for a moment.

  "Should she swing it?"

  "No. Not on dry land. She needs to just pick it up and whack the bow. If she wants to, she can let go at the last second—to avoid being splashed."

  "I see. She's nice."

  "Yes. They both are. You meet some great people in this business... most of the time. The other kind make all the headaches." He led the way off the platform. "Stay here. I'm going to bring the Van Chattans over, ready to start the ceremonies. You may as well see it all, up close."

  "Fine."

  "Or you can watch from up there." He pointed to a handling truck operated with a hydraulic lift. "Get on and Billy will take you up high enough to see everything."

  Not wanting to be in the forefront, Ellen chose the lift. Billy did indeed take her up high enough to watch first the christening—the bottle broke on the first whack—and then the launch.

  After the short ceremony, the crane slowly lifted the boat—still in one of her cradles—until she cleared the concrete. As the band played, the two tugs moved the crane with its load out into the water. There the boat was slowly lowered again. Once she floated she sat for awhile before George started up the motor and backed her out of the slings.

  Everyone cheered and clapped and one of the workers set off three Roman rockets that exploded overhead in a burst of noise and color. The band played even louder as people headed toward the heavily laden tables, ready to eat and party.

  From her vantage point, Ellen spotted Donna standing close to a jovial-looking man, his dark head tipped towards hers. She was smiling radiantly, oblivious to the commotion around her.

  Do I look like that, with Jared? If so, no wonder Elenora teased me.

  Billy brought the platform down to ground level and grinned. "How was that for launching a boat?" he bragged.

  "Perfect."

  "Your first launch?"

  "Yes."

  "The thrill is always there."

  Ellen looked around and found Jared close by, his gaze on her even while talking to several people. She caught her breath as Jared nodded, ever so slightly, at her. The thrill was also there.

  Had Elenora been right? Did Jared search for her?

  She looked away, noticing someone else watching her intently. Larry. She hoped he was not going to be a problem.

  *15*

  A week later, Ellen watched as Jared signed three papers his production manager handed him. Larry had given him a quick explanation and left, asking that the checks be mailed today.

  "Tough day?" Jared asked.

  "Very. I'm exhausted," Ellen said. He wore his office personality at the moment—cool and professional—and she responded in kind.

  During the past week, she had discovered that working with Jared was like working with two different people. He treated her with an office casualness while they worked. She was the office manager and he distanced himself with his own professional manner. Once home, he dropped the boss-employee role with lightning speed, seeming to change in mid-sentence. But when Ellen tried to switch into her teacher mode, he rebelled against it, becoming more and more difficult to teach. It took some getting used to.

  Larry had proven invaluable, giving her welcome computer tips whenever he stopped by and the office happened to be empty of all but her. His quickie lessons had helped her decipher Donna’s instructions, so that she felt more and more confident. Aside from erasing the accountant’s files—which Larry quickly retrieved—she had not done anything really serious.

  Her lunch with Larry was pleasant, taken when Jared was off on a lunch of his ow
n. They had talked business, then discussed a boat he owned and was outfitting for a long trip. She had agreed to another lunch, next week, giving in under pressure from him to get out of the office on these summer days.

  Donna had gradually thawed out as the two of them worked together; even asking Ellen to attend her wedding, apologizing for not having any printed invitations left. Her fiancé, Clyde Brekley, wanted her to have a fairy-book wedding and insisted on picking up the tab. They had invited everyone from the boat yard, besides all their relatives and friends.

  Donna had left the day before, happy to have a full day off to make her final preparations. With her departure, the entire responsibility for running the office fell on Ellen. Larry had stopped by often to help, but she had still tensed up, afraid of making a mistake.

  "I hope teaching school isn't this nerve-wracking, or I'll not last," she told Jared.

  "After awhile it'll get easier."

  "Huh! If you say so."

  "Get the checks ready for these. I'll sign them, then we're through."

  She glanced at the amount. "Everything costs so much in the yacht business. These are a small fortune in themselves."

  "True. We seem to be paying out more than usual right now." He waited while she prepared the checks, then signed them and handed them back. "We'll mail these as we go."

  She folded the checks with the bills and placed them into their envelopes. "Must we do any reading tonight? I don't know if I'm up to it."

  "Hum. We'll eat and then decide. There's an excellent restaurant close by. What do you say?"

  Was he asking her out to eat? Remembering her conversation with Elenora, Ellen felt a surge of joy. Maybe the woman was right and Jared was interested in her.

  "That sounds wonderful. I'd love to go." Then she remembered his earlier reluctance to be seen with her. "But I thought you didn't want anyone to see us together?"

  "It's different now."

  "How?"

  "You're my office manager. No one will think any more about it. As such, we can eat out after work now and then, without anyone questioning it."

  His matter-of-fact explanation wiped the bubbles off Ellen's spirits. This wasn't a date, only a matter of convenience.

  "Let me get my things." She entered the small restroom next to Donna's office, realizing that if she admitted feeling better after eating, Jared would want to be tutored tonight. Then again, he might not.

  With her taking Donna's place, Jared no longer felt such intense pressure, so had shortened the reading sessions. By now he could successfully sound out new words. Plus he had a sight vocabulary of thousands of words.

  He was reading, but he wasn't. As soon as she changed from three words on a page to a sentence or paragraph, Jared began mixing up the words. If a doctor could figure out what was wrong, physically—and somehow correct it—then Jared should be able to read like other people.

  Probably. Maybe. She hoped. Although she had studied about eye problems in college, Ellen didn't remember that much about them.

  Taking a hot, wet paper towel, she blotted it back and forth over her face, trying to wipe away the tiredness. It didn't work. The quick spurt of adrenaline she'd felt when Jared mentioned going to the restaurant hadn't lasted more than two steps.

  She refreshed her make-up, but still looked and felt beat. Her hair was too tight, pulling against her scalp. She re-combed it, getting it back under control, and pinned it up again. It still pulled, but felt a little better, and her spirits picked up.

  Going out with him, even if not officially a date, was exciting. Jared had that effect on her. He had a way of making her feel special.

  As he did every woman. Charm seemed to roll naturally from him. Since he had given her the flowers last week, their relationship had stayed neutral. She hoped he did not regret his impulsive gift. She had tended them carefully in a vase, trying to draw out every vestige of color, every breath of fragrance.

  Taking her jacket, she hurried back, eager to begin the evening. "All ready," she stated.

  "Almost ready," he corrected her, with a shake of his head. He stepped close, reached up and pulled the pins from her hair. As it tumbled down, he fluffed it out with his fingers, sending a tingle racing down her spine, then stood back to view the result.

  "That's better."

  "Much better," she agreed, the sudden, yet hoped for, intimacy setting her aglow.

  She still was not used to his quick changes. He was much more adept than she in creating and maintaining a professional atmosphere. He could turn the charm on and off like a switch.

  She could not. When he did something like loosening her hair, her emotions threw both throttles forward. She could not ease back suddenly.

  Did this mean he wanted to further their friendship? She did. She really wanted to explore all the possibilities. Ellen no longer questioned Elenora's deductions. Jared had to be interested in her. Now the question was, would he stay like this for the rest of the evening, or become distant again?

  The restaurant proved to be small and quiet; light enough to see the food, dark enough to feel private and intimate. The waiter seated them at a table for two overlooking Lake Union.

  "What looks good to you?" she asked, before remembering he could not read the menu.

  "They do a good seafood crepe here," he replied. "I've had it often."

  She nodded. "That sounds fine to me; but would you like to try something new?"

  "Yes, actually I would. Is there any shrimp and steak combinations?"

  Ellen studied the menu, found the combination and read it to him.

  "Got it."

  "How do you grocery shop?"

  "I hire a shopping service. Lots of busy people do. I still have to guess what's inside cans, especially if they picture a complete meal on the outside."

  "What do you do then?"

  "I open it up and eat it. It’s called creative cooking. Sometimes I get some pretty weird combinations."

  She laughed and he grinned back at her.

  The waiter reappeared, offering advice on the soup and salad selections. They ordered and he left.

  Jared grinned triumphantly at her. "Simple!"

  "So I see." Waiters were helpful. If Jared went to an unfamiliar restaurant, all he had to do was ask the waiter's recommendation.

  "I find this one of the most relaxing places I've been to. I used to come here several times a week, after work."

  "That's nice," said Ellen, not meaning it. It might be nice at first, but it seemed sad to her that he should have to eat out so much. Or did he not eat out alone?

  "Remember, 'all walls have ears,' especially in restaurants," he added in an undertone.

  Glancing around, Ellen saw several diners nearby, some singles, but mostly couples or groups. None looked to be a threat. "Perhaps."

  "I know. You think I'm paranoid, but people can't help but overhear what's at the next table... if only during breaks in their own conversation."

  "Still...." Ellen shifted her range of vision to include the table directly behind him. The lone diner, a dark-haired woman around thirty with sunglasses atop her head, had come in a few minutes after them. She ate distractedly while writing in a small notebook. Professionally dressed, she could be preparing a speech or making a grocery list. Like the other patrons of the restaurant, she appeared intent upon her own business.

  The waiter arrived with their meal and they ate leisurely, their conversation focusing at first on the restaurant and the view of the lake. As she slowly savored her seafood crepe—delicately flavored with herbs—Ellen found her energies reviving.

  The low afternoon sun shone brilliantly through a window just behind Jared. The waiter pulled the blinds shut, but streaks of sunlight landed on Ellen and she shifted her chair slightly.

  "I like your hair down," Jared commented.

  "I've been thinking of cutting it."

  "No!" The vehemence of his answer startled her. "I love it this way... it's beautiful."

  "T
hanks. But it's so fine, I have to pin it up or it flies all over the place. I can't have that at the office."

  "Of course not. You need to wear it up when you're working, it makes you look poised and professional."

  "That's an added benefit."

  "And untouchable."

  "Good."

  "It challenges a man."

  "I wish it didn't. Your crew is finding plenty of reasons to drop into the office. Maybe I should leave it down."

  "Don't you dare. Then we really would have pandemonium at the boat works. Why don't you loosen it after we get home each day?"

  "As long as it doesn't distract you when you're reading. If I'm to do a good job at being your tut—-"

  "Office manager," he interrupted sharply. "I know."

  At that moment the woman who had been sitting behind him stood up as if to leave, turned and said, "Jared. What a surprise."

  "Angelique." His brows flicked upward in acknowledgment of the woman standing beside him. She was tall and strikingly beautiful... and could have heard everything they'd said. Ellen felt the floor drop out from under her. Had she said anything wrong?

  "Well?" the woman demanded, indicating Ellen with a nod of her head.

  "Angelique, this is Ellen Craig, my new office manager. Ellen, Angelique, the reporter I—"

  "What happened to Donna?"

  "She's getting married Saturday. Her new husband lives in Friday Harbor—he runs a charter boat service." He looked at Ellen as he added, "It took me awhile to tumble to what was happening between her and Clyde. I'd sold him a new cruiser. Usually that’s the last I see of my customers, but he kept coming in to buy or exchange things. I thought I’d sold him a lemon until Donna cued me in."

  Angelique dismissed his account with a wave of her hand. "So you're the new office manager?"

  "Yes."

  "And on a first-name basis already," the reporter observed. "How cozy."

  The woman had claws and did not mind digging. Ellen felt herself bristle. She straightened in her chair, temper flaring and only just in time remembered Jared saying that the woman would retaliate if he was too aggressive in trying to get rid of her. As long as they acted like they had nothing to hide, maybe she would go away.