Dixie Belle

by Debby Mayne

  “I don’t know what I expected, but I have to admit I was disappointed when I first saw the apartment.” She scrunched her cute little nose. “It’s so small and . . . old.”

  “A lot of things in New York are old, but that doesn’t mean they’re not as good as something newer.”

  “Oh, I know that. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s probably good for me to be in a smaller space. There’s not as much to take care of.”

  He nodded. “I agree. Now that I’m in a house, I see that I had it made when I lived in an apartment.”

  She gave him a questioning look. “Don’t you like having a house?”

  “Oh, I like it, but it’s a handful to maintain. Fortunately there are plenty of folks around who know more about fixing broken plumbing and replacing wiring than I’ll ever know.”

  “My daddy always did that kind of thing,” Cissy said. “He always said a real man didn’t have to call someone in to fix everything that’s broken. He should learn—” She visibly gulped. “Oops. There I go again, sticking my foot in my mouth. I didn’t mean anything by that. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “No offense taken. I actually do know the basics of home repair, and I’ve done my fair share of it, but at this point in my life, I don’t have the time.”

  “I’m sure.” She squirmed, letting him know she was still very uncomfortable, so he decided it was time to change the subject.

  He leaned back in his chair. “How are you feeling about your job now?”

  “There’s quite a bit more to sewing notions than I ever imagined,” she said. “Just this morning we found out that one of our suppliers in China is about to raise their prices, so one of the executives who just happens to live in San Francisco is starting his own company.” She leaned back and grinned. “Uncle Forest is hoping for an exclusive distribution right. He’s meeting with the man next week. It’s supposed to be—”

  He gently placed a finger over her lips. “I think we should change subjects now. This conversation is going somewhere that I don’t think your uncle would like.”

  Her eyebrows shot up as she clearly realized what she’d done. “I want to crawl right under this bench. I can’t believe I just did that.” A pained expression replaced her shock at the monumental mistake she’d just made. “Can you try to forget what I just told you?”

  He wouldn’t be able to forget, but for the first time in business he could push it to the back of his mind and not act on it. Marianne’s words played in his mind, and guilt swelled in his heart.

  “This is your lunch hour,” he said softly. “Let’s stop talking about work.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No need for an apology.”

  He studied her features as she nibbled on the edge of her sandwich. Her wide blue eyes sparkled above high cheekbones that gave her a distinctive modelesque look. However, she carried slightly more weight, making her curvier than most of the models he knew, and he thought she looked much healthier for it. Every now and then as she tossed her shoulder-length brown hair back, he caught a glimmer of reddish highlights. This girl was a stunner, and even more so since she didn’t appear to realize how gorgeous she was.

  She stopped nibbling and faced him head-on. “What are you looking at? Do I have mustard on my face or something?” She dabbed her lips with the paper napkin from the deli.

  “No,” he said as he continued staring at her. “All I see is a very pretty face.”

  Her chin dropped, and her cheeks reddened as she blinked. With twitching lips, she dipped her head and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Not only are you very pretty, there’s something else about you that I find immensely attractive.”

  “There is?” She dropped all pretense of trying to eat as she looked back at him. “Like what?”

  He nodded as he took both of her hands in his. “Like your ability to talk about anything.”

  Cissy leaned back and laughed. “Yeah, I do have a motor mouth.”

  “So you said.” He laughed.

  “That’s only one of the things they call me.” She shrugged.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Well, that and ‘Mouth of the South.’”

  He laughed. “At least you’re giving me a couple of choices.”

  Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Maybe after I get to know you better.” He tapped his chin. “Mouth of the South has quite a nice ring to it, but I sort of like Motor Mouth too.”

  She frowned. “I need to stop talking so much.”

  “No, that would be a travesty. I love your enthusiasm.”

  “Mama says I’m too enthusiastic for my own good.” She contorted her mouth in a humorous twist. “She says I shouldn’t be so excited about so many things.”

  “But I like that.” He grinned.

  A serious look took the place of her comical expression. “Do you think I act like a country bumpkin?”

  A laugh escaped before he caught himself. “No, of course not. In fact, I think the opposite. You’re a very charming Southern lady who delights me with the most unexpected things.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes, really. Plus you have such a cute way of putting things . . . Motor Mouth.”

  She cringed. “I really don’t like to be called that.”

  “Would you like for me to come up with a different nickname for you?”

  She gave him a dubious glance. “Like what?”

  “Cupcake, maybe?”

  She laughed. “Cupcake? What kind of name is that?”

  He tapped his finger on her nose. “You’re very sweet.”

  Once again her face turned a deep shade of crimson. “Thank you.”

  He glanced at his watch, stood, and pulled her to her feet. “We better get back to our offices before they send someone out looking for us.”

  “Yeah, I better run. I need to get back to the office before my uncle and Dave get back from their business lunch.”

  “I’m sure that’s probably a very good idea,” he agreed.

  “Charlene and I will be coming up with decorating ideas tonight. Want to stop by to see my new place, say, around sixish?”

  “I’d love to.”

  He jotted down her address and placed his hand on her shoulder. An overwhelming urge to kiss her came over him, so he pulled away and took a step back. She gave him an odd look but didn’t say anything.

  “See you then.”

  Conflicting emotions took over as he watched her walk away. She’d said something about the Chinese manufacturer that he’d heard buzz about but hadn’t acted on yet because he wasn’t sure. Knowing what he now knew could certainly put him in a more solid business position, but taking advantage of it now could jeopardize his relationship with Cissy. The magnitude of the turmoil his relationship with Cissy could cause slammed him hard. Which should come first—business or Cissy?

  Chapter 13

  THE INSTANT TOM turned the corner, Cissy took off in a run. She was already ten minutes late.

  Uncle Forest gave her a stern look as she walked out of the elevator. “You’re late.”

  “Sorry, but you know how time can get away—”

  He held up a finger. “We’ll talk later. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Dave waved as the elevator doors closed between them. When she got to her seat, she let out a sigh. One of these days she’d do everything right . . . well, maybe not everything, but at least something. Hopefully it would happen before she messed up one time too many at Zippers Plus. The last thing she wanted right now was to get fired and sent back to Hartselle.

  Speaking of which, everything was quiet, and there were a couple other people in the office right now, so she pulled out her cell phone and punched in her parents’ number. Uncle Forest had called about the apartment before she did. Good thing too because he managed to soften Mama’s anger by reassuring her that he’d keep a close eye on Cissy. Mama still lectured, but it was nothing like what sh
e would have done if she hadn’t already known.

  Mama answered.

  “Hey. How’s everything at home?” Cissy asked.

  Mama ignored her question and cut to the chase. “Forest called me last night and told me about your mess-up on the job. Why can’t you be more careful?”

  Her heart sank. “I’m trying . . . really I am.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with frustration. Why would Uncle Forest feel like he had to tell Mama everything? All the more reason for her to move out and have a private life of her own.

  Mama clicked her tongue. “I reckon I can’t expect a hen to lay an ostrich egg.”

  “Mama.”

  “I know. It’s just that you keep making the same mistakes over and over. Seems you’d learn something by now. We’re all beside ourselves about you moving into that apartment all by yourself. Forest said it’s gonna cost you half your salary, and it’s no bigger than a shoebox.”

  “How would he know? He hasn’t even seen it yet.”

  “Well?”

  “Okay, so he’s right. It’s small. But it’ll be mine.” Cissy realized her voice had gotten shrill, so she lowered it. “I need this, Mama. You know good and well that until I get out completely on my own, I’ll never figure out how to totally take care of myself.”

  “Like when Spencer came after you? What would you have done if I hadn’t been there to call the police?”

  Mama was right, but Cissy couldn’t admit it—at least not now. “I don’t know, but I’m sure I would’ve figured something out.”

  “Just remember that you’re in a bigger jungle now, and there are plenty of wildcats on the loose.”

  An image of Tom popped into Cissy’s mind. Was he a wildcat? She giggled at the thought of a real wildcat wearing a tailored suit, tie, and dress shoes.

  “What’s so funny?” Mama demanded.

  Cissy coughed to cover her laughter. “Mama, I’ve only met nice people so far. I already know one of my neighbors. Her name is Charlene, and she’s super sweet. She’s the one who told me about the apartment, and we plan to do a lot of things together. She knows all the best places to shop and eat and . . . ”

  Mama snorted. “Shop and eat? Honey, at those prices you might have to stand on a corner somewhere with your hand out.” She paused. “Forget I said that. I don’t want to give you any ideas.”

  “You know I’m not—”

  One of the office phones started ringing. Cissy used it as an excuse to get off the phone with Mama. “I gotta run. I’ll call you after I’m settled in my new apartment.”

  Between answering phones and pretending to study the notions manual, Cissy managed to stay busy until Uncle Forest and Dave returned. Uncle Forest blew right past her with merely a head nod. He obviously had something on his mind. Dave, on the other hand, couldn’t stop grinning.

  “Must have been a good lunch,” she said.

  He nodded. “It was.”

  “That’s nice.” She lifted the manual and stared at the types of closures.

  Dave’s shadow lingered over her desk, so she looked up and saw that his grin had only widened. “Aren’t you going to ask me about it?”

  She stifled a smile as she lowered the manual. “What would you like for me to ask?”

  He held out his hands. “Anything.”

  “What did you have for lunch?”

  Dave rolled his eyes, slammed his palms on the desk, and planted his face about a foot from hers. “Not that. Ask me about what Mr. Counts and I discussed.”

  With as much drama as she could manage sitting at a metal desk in a pleather chair, Cissy widened her eyes and leaned a couple more inches closer to Dave, hoping he’d back off a bit. “What did you and Mr. Counts discuss?”

  Dave pulled back. “He’s decided to go ahead and take action. As soon as you’ve completed your training, I’m getting a promotion.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Cissy offered a closed mouth smile and bobbed her head. “Who’s to say I’ll ever finish my training?”

  Dave rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny.”

  “Maybe . . . ” She playfully bobbed her head. She liked teasing Dave. “Don’t count on anything.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Okay, you’re right.” She folded her arms. “So what will you be promoted to?”

  Lifting his chin, he replied, “I already told you. Senior salesman.”

  She started to make a face and let out one of her signature sarcastic remarks, but she caught herself. Dave didn’t know her well enough to see the depth of her kidding around, and she certainly didn’t want to spoil his day.

  “That’s awesome. What are you now?”

  “Just a salesman, which is what you’ll be after you’re fully trained.”

  “Wait a minute.” Cissy stood up. “What am I now?”

  “Sales trainee.”

  Cissy shook her head as she lowered herself back into her chair. “This place is too caught up in titles.”

  Dave folded his arms and leaned back, the smug look more subtle but still there. “So tell me all about your lunch.”

  “It was good. I had my first corned beef sandwich.”

  One corner of his lip twitched. “Did you eat alone?”

  It took every ounce of self-restraint not to bob her head. “What do you think?”

  “What do I think?” He tapped his finger on his chin. “You need to be ultra-cautious when it comes to Tom Jenkins.”

  “Wait a minute. You didn’t seem to mind bringing me that flower from Tom.”

  “I know, but that was before I was in management.” Dave pursed his lips and gave her a look that she was sure he intended to be authoritative, but it came across more comical than anything. She stifled another giggle. “He’s your direct competitor, so you need to understand that some business people are unscrupulous enough to use romance to get company secrets.” He paused. “Has he pressed for any company secrets yet?”

  “I don’t think—” Her cell phone chimed, letting her know she was receiving a text message. She lifted a finger. “Hold that thought.”

  The message was from Charlene asking if she needed help getting the apartment ready to move into. Cissy texted back to ask what she was talking about. While she waited for Charlene’s response, she turned back to Dave. “You don’t think Tom is using me, do you?”

  He lifted one shoulder but quickly caught himself. “You never know about people in this town, Cissy. He’s done some stuff in the past, so you never know.”

  She blinked as thoughts of Spencer flashed through her mind. “Not just this town. You never know about anyone, anywhere.”

  This time he went through with the shrug. “Be careful. I know you can’t wait to get out on your own, but if you don’t watch your backside, New York City will eat you alive.”

  “You sound like Mama.” Thank goodness her phone chimed again. Dave was starting to annoy her.

  Cleaning. That was all Charlene’s message said.

  “Dave, before you start making calls, I do have a question about this apartment I’m about to move into.”

  He lifted both eyebrows. “What’s that?”

  “Doesn’t the property management company take care of cleaning, or is that something I have to do?”

  He burst into laughter. “It’s not exactly like you can afford an apartment at The Plaza. If you want it clean, you have to do it yourself. They don’t provide maid service, at least not in your price range.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I know I’ll have to clean it once I’m there. Charlene asked if I wanted help getting it ready. I thought the building superintendent would arrange for that so everything would be fresh and clean for me when I move in.”

  Dave slowly shook his head. “Afraid not. Things don’t work like that here in New York . . . at least not in a place either of us can afford. And if anything breaks . . . ” He closed his eyes and slowly opened them. “Don’t count on someone coming if you call.”

&nbs
p; Cissy had lived in apartments before, but she and her friends always rented from apartment complexes. With pools. And a tennis court. And a maintenance staff that made sure everything worked and was clean before she moved in.

  She swallowed hard and texted Charlene back, letting her know she’d appreciate any help she was willing to give. Then she went to her uncle’s office and knocked.

  “Better make it quick, Cissy. I have a phone conference in ten minutes.”

  “Okay. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to the apartment after work to clean, so I’ll be a little late getting home tonight.”

  He rubbed his temple. “Do you realize Bootsie is expecting us at the normal dinner hour? Besides, do you expect to clean in that outfit?” He looked her up and down, taking in her little black pencil skirt and silk blouse. Then he glanced down at her pumps and shook his head.

  “I’ll borrow something from Charlene. I need to get it ready to move into, and it’s not like I have days and days.”

  Uncle Forest clasped his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. “All right. Tell you what. Leave at four thirty and do whatever you need to do as fast as possible. I’ll let Bootsie know we’ll be home around eight or so.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  She’d made it to the door when he said her name. She turned around. “You’ll be back here by seven. Understood?”

  “Understood.” Cissy returned to her desk feeling just like she did as a teenager when Mama scolded her for leaving her makeup all over the bathroom vanity.

  She could tell Dave was staring at her, but she refused to look back at him. Instead she pulled out her cell phone and texted Charlene to ask if she could borrow some clothes and let her know she needed to leave by six forty-five. Charlene got back with her immediately and said it wouldn’t take all that long since the apartment was basically only two rooms, and neither of them was very big.

  What an understatement, Cissy thought as she tried to get back into studying. Doubts had begun to creep into her thoughts once again, and no matter what she did to push them away, they remained. That wasn’t all. She was already getting sick of the sewing notions business. If she never had to look at another picture of a zipper, snap, hook, or spool of thread, she’d be perfectly fine. For the first time since she’d arrived in New York, she felt a pang of homesickness.