The flush of pink that suffused her cheeks had another effect on him, as well. The hint of color transformed her from being merely pretty, to being beautiful. Gordon stared, astonished. A little makeup, some high heels, she’d be a knockout. He supposed that her receptionist duties might include some work that got her “dirty,” as she put it, hence the grubby clothes she had on. Not sufficiently professional. A dress code was clearly needed.
He hoped he’d embarrassed her into silence. Beginning to turn his back on her and continue his business with Red, he was stopped by her voice.
“Dad, where’s that spray window cleaner you brought up here?”
“Over on the windowsill.” Red spoke to her with clear fondness. Probably never saw a reason to be anything other than indulgent with her. Doubtless allowed her anything her little heart desired from the time she was old enough to ask. Gordon felt the old resentment shift and turn inside him as he compared her easy upbringing to his own lifelong struggle to raise himself up by his bootstraps. He’d had to help support his family, then pay for his own night-school education as he worked during the day. He’d gone even farther and invented a few high-performance parts for hot rods, and actually managed to sell a prototype to a big aftermarket company.
Now, finally, he was nearly ready to take his place among the automotive industry’s business elite.
Gordon squelched his brief resentment. It was Red’s business whether he chose to spoil his daughter. As long as she answered the phone politely and didn’t drain the company coffers more than was reasonable.
He watched her cross the office with her confident, almost masculine swagger. He noticed her short unpainted nails that showed traces of old dirt still embedded beneath them. He was still wearing his polite smile as she crossed back toward him carrying the blue cleaner. “Well, Sarah, it’s been nice meeting—what is this?”
The spray bottle leaked onto his fingers where she’d thrust it into his hand.
She smiled at him, a little pityingly. “It’s a bit of a dirty job, but you know what they say: ‘any job worth doing is worth doing well.’ Please do the glass counter. It’s really grungy. Welcome to my company.”
Sarah sailed out, her footsteps a confident staccato on the stairs as she raced down them.
Gordon stood with the smell of ammonia wafting up, at a complete loss for words.
Red looked at him, his pitying expression a mirror of his daughter’s. “Um, she’s actually right about your clothes. Business casual or even jeans would probably be better.”
Gordon slowly set the cleaner down onto Red’s desk with what he thought was admirable self-control. “Red, I would hope that this supervisor position doesn’t include taking direction from the receptionist.”
Red blustered. “No, of course not. Well, I suppose I might take the occasional suggestion under consideration. But, you know, Sarah’s not the receptionist. She’s more of a technician. The, um, head technician.” Red managed, with all his bulk, to look sheepish. “Matt was the front man who answered the phone and worked the store. When he felt like it. But now of course, he’s gone.” He gazed at Gordon.
“You don’t expect me . . .”
“No, of course not! In fact, I’d like to work with you about the reorganization of the company. Business management is your area.”
“You haven’t told Sarah that I’ll be the new supervisor, have you?” Gordon shook his head, not needing an answer. He flicked his fingers, ridding them of liquid. “Okay Red, you asked for it. First thing Monday, let’s you and I have a meeting. The day after, we’ll hand out the new positions. This should be interesting.”
His hand was already itching to shove the ammonia bottle back into Sarah’s face. It would be his pleasure to tell Daddy’s little tomboy not to miss a spot.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
L.A. Caveman Page 18