Anything Your Heart Desires

by AJ Adaire

  “Okay, let's look around. They went to several dealerships looking for the perfect vehicle. “I don't want a huge truck. They're too high for me to get into,” Jo declared. “I need something small.”

  They drove through the local car dealership without seeing any pickups out front. “Hey, look at that,” Amanda said pointing to a small pickup at the back of the lot. There was no sign on it listing its price.

  Mallory looked in the direction Amanda was pointing. “I wonder what the story is on that one.” Jo looked interested. “Let's go check it out.”

  Mallory navigated the lot and parked next to the little silver truck. The three women got out of Jo's car and with cupped hands peered inside the vehicle.

  “This is neat,” Jo said. “It's just the right size, seats four people, and has a small bed. Look, it looks like this little rack flips back to extend the bed. I think my bike will fit in there. Let's talk to a salesman and get some information about it.”

  As if on cue, a tall, lanky salesman approached the group of women and, after a warm greeting, he asked, “How can I help you?”

  “Yes.” Jo drew the salesman’s attention. “We saw the truck parked here and are curious about this vehicle. Can you give us any information about it?”

  “Sure. That's a 2006. I sold it as a new vehicle to an older man four years ago. He recently died, and his family just sold it back to us. We're getting ready to clean it up and put it out front for sale. It has really low mileage, only has eighteen thousand some odd miles on it.”

  “Next best thing to it was driven by a little old school teacher,” Mallory joked causing everyone to chuckle.

  “Exactly.” replied the salesman adding a genuine smile. “I'm Dan.” He shook hands with each woman in turn. “Which of you is interested?”

  Jo raised her hand. “That would be me.”

  “Okay, let me show you some of the other features of the vehicle.” He opened the door and allowed Jo to get in. “This is the turbo model. It has an electric driver's seat.” He pointed to another car on the lot. “It's built on the same frame as that model over there, so it rides like a car, has all wheel drive and the added functionality of a truck.”

  “That's good, Jo,” Mallory commented. “It'll be good in bad weather.”

  “Yeah, and the power seat will be perfect for me. I can push it back to get out and in and adjust it easily to drive.” Turning to the salesman, she asked the price. It was within the ballpark of what she thought she could afford with her trade. “Can we take it for a ride?”

  “Sure, let me get a tag. If you give me the keys to your car, I can have it appraised for you while you take this one for a spin.”

  While he was gone, the trio looked over the neat little truck. Mallory lowered the tailgate and flipped the bed extender back. “Look,” she added, “the back seat folds forward, and that little door folds down making the back open to the bed so you can put longer items inside. That's pretty neat.”

  The salesman returned with a tag. Mallory and Amanda got in the back seat and Jo drove. She was barely out on the road when she decided she wanted the vehicle. It answered all her needs. Returning to the lot, they negotiated a price and Jo made the deal.

  “I don't think you stole it, although you probably got a fair price. Perhaps had you not been drooling on the hood when we started dickering about price, we could have done a little better,” Mallory teased.

  Jo glanced at Mallory. “I would probably have paid full price if not for your intervention. It's exactly what I need. It has low mileage, and he gave us the extended warranty at a reasonable cost and threw in that nice bed cover that'll be good, especially for the bad weather. It'll be nice to be able to lock things in the bed. I'm a happy camper.” A huge grin spread across her face.

  On the way home, the women stopped so Jo could treat them to dinner. As they were eating, Jo announced, “I think it's time for me to go home, Ladies. I can get around on my own now and should be able to care for myself. I might need help with shopping for a few more weeks. Other than that, I think I can manage.” Jo had graduated to using a cane for stability and for the past couple of weeks had been navigating fairly well.

  “We'll help you as long as you need us,” Amanda promised. When she got home, Amanda offered and Jo accepted that she call their cleaning service and arrange for Jo's house to have a thorough cleaning so Jo wouldn't have to worry about it. She could see if she could maintain it on her own and make her own decision about whether to keep them on or not.

  “I hope I'll be able to do it myself. Surely, I'll have the time.” A wisp of sadness insinuated itself into her voice. She quickly forced herself to brighten her tone. “Just think, no more alarm clocks for me.”

  Mallory and Amanda had talked with Dana and Nic about the job offer they were about to make Jo. In the time Jo had spent at Amanda and Mallory's house, Jo had become a member of their extended family.

  “Jo, we have an offer to make you. Initially, we won't need you much. However, you know that we're planning on opening the business in the next couple of weeks. Mallory is going to be office manager. She's still working part time at the hospital for a while and won't be available to be at the desk for all the hours we'll be open. Even after she leaves the hospital, there'll be too many hours for us to cover. Especially after business increases and Nic gets busier, we'll need someone to help us out. We were wondering if you would be interested in working for us part time to start, with increasing hours as the business grows. From time to time, we'll need someone who knows the business anyway. As it becomes successful, Mallory and I will want to be able to take time off to get away together as will Nic and Dana. We’ll need someone we can trust to help out.”

  Jo, appreciative of all that her friends had done for her, jumped at the opportunity to be able to help them in return. “Sure, I'll even do it for free. I owe you guys so much. How will I ever repay you?”

  “We won't hear of it. We feel we owe you more for saving Mallory's life. We're extremely glad you'll be with us in our new venture.”

  Chapter 4

  STACY ALEXANDER SAT AT her desk located in front of a large window in her apartment. Her second bedroom served as her guest room and office. The window overlooked the main street of her little town, located just outside New York City. Shops and restaurants lined both sides of the street. Her apartment was in a freestanding house above a little shop that sold shoes and leather purses. She loved opening the door and stepping into the landing leading to the stairwell of her second floor space. As she entered, she always inhaled deeply to absorb the aroma of the leather that seeped into the hallway. Coming from a similarly sized town in Virginia, she appreciated living outside of the frenzy and hectic pace common to big cities. She had chosen the little suburb for its small-town feel as well as its proximity to New York City. As an author, she enjoyed being near her publisher for meetings when necessary and away from the hustle and bustle the rest of the time.

  The process of writing was enjoyable to her. Stacy loved solving the challenges each story presented and especially loved the research involved. Her first job, as a researcher for an international company that did surveys and market research, was a job she continued to do on a freelance basis between novels. The current project entailed doing the data analysis for some French surveys. Having taken the language in high school and college, her French was passable but still not what she considered fluent. She felt more confident writing than speaking the language. Once she completed her report, she would translate it herself and then have her translation checked for accuracy before submitting it. As she worked, Stacy glanced out the window every so often to watch the progress on the little shop across the street. Workmen had been in and out over the previous weeks, painting and bringing in furniture. The cable people had arrived early and worked all morning and seemed to have finished making their connections.

  Working on the plot outline for her fourth mystery novel, Stacy was stuck for a motive. For most of the
morning she’d sat staring out the window, just thinking. In her first book, the motive had been adultery, and in the second, a crime of passion and opportunity. The third had been robbery. What other reasons might there be that would cause one person to take another's life? She ruminated on the subject, seeking another motive. Blackmail? Yes, that's it. Blackmail. So, what could her victim, a twenty-five year old young woman living in a townhouse in a small town, possibly have done that someone could be blackmailing her about at such a young age? She searched her brain for something different, something that would spice up her storyline. Nothing came to mind immediately, so she decided to take a break for a cup of tea.

  In the kitchen she waited for the water to boil. After the kettle whistled, she prepared the tea and meandered back to the office, cup in hand, and settled again. Leaning her chin on her palm, she glanced out the window. She noticed that the short auburn haired woman, who had been in and out of the shop across the street for the past few weeks, was waiting at the door. A tall, dark haired, slender man dressed in trousers and a long Chesterfield styled coat strode up the walkway and hugged the woman. When they both turned towards the street, Stacy was surprised to notice that the taller person was a woman, not a man as she’d first thought. Her hair, although short, was stylishly cut. It was a few minutes until the two women waiting at the door welcomed two other women, one short and blondish and the other a strawberry haired woman of medium height. After hugs, they paired off, the two shorter women together and the taller woman with the mid-sized woman. They joined hands and followed one another through the door. Once inside, the two couples paired off and kissed each other on the lips.

  Lesbians! They're all lesbians. Stacy watched in fascination as the two couples kissed each other, then separated to hug each of the other women. She found it an erotic sight, and the tingle she felt between her legs when the women kissed, surprised her. Wonder what business they're going to open? Idly, she pondered the question. Then a thought dawned on her. Blackmail. Yes, her murder victim could be blackmailed for being a lesbian. Hmm. That might be a good reason for extortion. What do I know about being a lesbian? Nothing. She smiled to herself. Research. I'll need to do research. She watched for a while, hoping the women would kiss again. They seemed to be over the greeting stage and were starting to organize the office.

  Soon a sign painter showed up and began painting the name of the business on the window. Oui, Madame slowly began to appear letter by letter. Hmm, wonder what type of business that is? Her question was soon answered as the sign painter added Translation Services and Language School below the name of the business. Stacy muttered aloud, her eyebrow arched. “Now isn't that convenient?”

  Stacy put the novel aside for the time being, finally motivated to finish up the report she was writing. She would finish it, translate the report as best she could, and ask the women at the new business to proof it for her.

  Chapter 5

  MOST DAYS, STACY NOTED that three women showed up at the new business across the street...the tall one, the dark blonde, and another woman she had not seen that first day. The seemingly unpaired woman had dark brown, nearly black hair, that she wore pulled back into a ponytail. She was about five-eight, muscular for a woman, and carried herself with an air of authority and a particularly erect posture, as if she maybe had military experience or training. She used a cane and had a noticeable limp, favoring her left leg.

  Stacy noticed that the woman with the limp walked for ten minutes each hour, and when she sat at the reception desk just inside the door she seemed to be exercising her leg. “What's that all about?” She spoke aloud despite the fact she was alone.

  The weekly paper showed up on Saturday morning. Stacy noticed that there was an advertisement in the business section offering a discount on both translation services and classes for Oui, Madame. There were two classes to choose from, conversational Italian and conversational Spanish. Stacy gathered up the document that she’d translated earlier and headed across the street.

  With a beautiful smile that transformed her face from merely attractive to entrancing, the woman behind the counter greeted Stacy warmly. “Hello there! How can I help you?”

  Stacy took a brief moment to study the attractive woman she'd been surreptitiously observing for the past several days from her office window. She was cuter up close, and a bit softer than she perceived her to be from a distance. Besides the fantastic smile, she had the most unusual eyes. At first Stacy thought they were blue. After studying them for a few seconds, she decided they were actually more grey than blue. The ring around the grey iris was a dark grey blue, nearly black. She had to stop herself from staring. “I'm sorry, I've never seen eyes the color of yours before. They're beautiful.” Stacy watched the woman blush.

  “Thank you,” she replied. In an effort to ignore the fact that her face was bright red, Jo turned straight back to business. She asked again. “How may I help you?”

  “Well, I translated this report into French myself. I have passable conversational skills. My written language tends to be too wordy. I saw the name of the shop and thought that someone here surely can speak French. I wondered if someone could check my translation for me. I just live over there,” Stacy pointed to her apartment across from where they were standing.

  “I’m so sorry. We're not officially open yet. The Grand Opening is this Saturday. And right now, I'm the only one here.”

  “Do you speak French?”

  “Uh…well…my mom is French, and I grew up speaking it. However, I'm not certified, nor am I hired here as a translator. I only help the owners out with reception and answering the phone. I expect Nic to be in any time now. If you want to leave the work, I'll have Nic or Dana translate it for you. Turn around will definitely be less than our normal twenty-four hours.” She looked to her left then to her right and whispered, “You happen to be our first customer.”

  “Oh, I see.” Stacy replied using the same hushed tone. “I wanted to get this in the mail this afternoon. It's really already translated. I just wanted a second opinion to be sure it was accurately done.”

  “If that's all you want, I can look it over for you at no charge, though I will warn you again that I'm not a certified interpreter. On a positive note, I've spoken the language all my life.”

  “That's good enough for this purpose.” Stacy raised a finger in a gesture designed to delay a response. “I'll only accept your offer if you'll let me buy you dinner in exchange.” A warm smile accompanied the invitation.

  Jo hesitated for a moment before she stuck out her hand. “I'm Jo.”

  “Stacy. Stacy Alexander.” She grasped Jo’s hand. “So is it a deal?”

  “I don’t know how my bosses would feel about me doing this.” Jo again cautioned the customer. “Are you sure that it’s okay that I’m not certified?”

  Stacy’s nod and warm smile reassured Jo. “I can promise you that there are no state secrets contained in the document. I'm pretty comfortable with what I have already written. I just want someone to double-check my grammar and structure. I’ll feel more comfortable submitting it if you can promise me that I won’t appear to be an idiot in a foreign language.”

  “Okay.” Jo winked and grabbed a pen from the counter. “I’m sure I can manage to do that. Just remember, you can never say I didn’t warn you. Oh, and the dinner offer is not a requirement of the deal. I’ll be happy to help out a neighbor.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  Hand extended, Jo said, “Let's see what you have. If it seems like something more than I feel I can handle, you’ll have to wait for Nic. Agreed?”

  Nodding again, Stacy handed the two-page report over to Jo who began a comparison from the English to the French. Half way down the second page, she pointed to a line. “This sentence here—I wouldn’t word it this way. Technically it's correct. I just think it sounds stilted. I’d write it this way.” Jo underlined the sentence and rewrote the phrase in the margin, then read it aloud to the wo
man.

  “Oh, I see what you mean. You speak beautiful French. Good suggestion.”

  Nic came in through the back door. Having overheard the last part of the exchange, she entered the office from the back room and hung her coat on the rack. Smiling at the two women standing at the desk, she asked, “What's up?”

  Jo heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Nic, this is Stacy. Stacy Alexander, Nic Bianchi. Nic is better qualified to help you than I am.” Turning towards Nic, Jo explained, “Stacy knows that we aren't officially open yet. I told her we’d help her out as a favor because she’s our neighbor.”

  It had never really occurred to Nic, nor had Jo mentioned, that she spoke French. It made sense, however, since Jo’s mother, Josette, spoke English with a French accent. When with the group, Jo and her mother had always spoken English to each other because Mallory and Amanda didn’t speak the language. Only Nic and Dana had spoken French with Josette.

  Jo flipped the last page of the report over. “I'm almost finished. Nic, would you be willing to read it when I'm done, just to double-check me?”

  “Sure. Let me see.” Nic started on the first page while Jo finished the second. As she concluded reading the report, she turned to Jo. “That was a good suggestion you made. That sentence reads much more naturally now than it did originally.” She then turned to Stacy. “You translated this yourself?

  “Yes.”

  “You did a good job of it. What you had was grammatically correct. It's just that Jo's suggestion was a more colloquial way to say it.”

  Stacy nodded. “Thank you, Nic. Can I include you in my offer for dinner in exchange for checking my work for me?”

  Nic laughed. “It would have been less expensive for you to pay us to translate it for you.”