Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  “Maybe it would!”

  “All right, then,” she told him, flailing her arm toward the open door. “Get out! You’re fired! I want you out of my sight! I don’t need you, Bob Rachette. I don’t need anyone!”

  Bob opened his mouth to say something but, instead, turned on his heel and hurried toward the door.

  This was not the response she had expected. Bob rarely challenged her. Eleanor felt herself shaking with anger, and she was hurt. Of all the people in the world she’d thought would never leave her or forsake her it was Bob, and he was walking away.

  Call after him. Apologize, a small voice said within her, but she didn’t respond.

  She couldn’t.

  Why should she? It was he who was in the wrong. Instead, she watched as he slammed the door behind him, flinching at the sound. He’ll come back and apologize, she told herself confidently. He always comes back. And when he does, I can explain what I want him to add to the Web site.

  But when he hadn’t returned by shortly past noon, she hurried to the outer office to ask Ruthie if he’d left for lunch.

  “You expected he’d still be here?” Ruthie asked, seeming both surprised and irritated by her question. “Bob boxed up his personal belongings and left here a little after nine. Surely you didn’t think he’d stick around after you fired him, did you?”

  Eleanor gave an indifferent shrug. “He’ll be back.”

  Ruthie huffed. “I wouldn’t count on it. By the set of his jaw, I’d say he’s had it with you and your demands.”

  Eleanor sucked in a quick breath. “Mark my words, he’ll be back. Bob Rachette would never leave me!”

  But two days went by, and Bob didn’t return. Nor did he return on the third day.

  “Maybe you should call and apologize,” Ruthie told her, holding up a handful of call slips. “Dozens of people are phoning, complaining about the orders they’re trying to place on the Web site. It seems the shopping cart keeps rejecting their credit cards. No telling how much business we’ve lost.”

  Angrily, Eleanor grabbed them from her hands and quickly scanned through the stack. “This will never do! We have to keep our customers happy.” She leaned toward Ruthie’s desk and pointed to the phone. “Get Bob Rachette. I want to talk to him.”

  Ruthie dialed the number and waited, but when no one had answered by the fifth ring, she hung up. “Not home.”

  “Where could he be?” Eleanor asked, more to herself than to Ruthie.

  “Probably working at a new job.”

  Eleanor bristled. “Surely you don’t mean that.”

  “Knowing Bob, I’ll bet he’s found another job by now. That man has a family to support.”

  Ruthie’s laugh irritated Eleanor.

  “He’d never leave me. He owes me.”

  “He owes you? Seems to me it’s the other way around. That man has worked his tail off for you.”

  “And I paid him well to do it!”

  Ruthie picked up the stack of morning mail and began to sort through it. “Not if you pay him like you pay the rest of us.”

  Eleanor glared at her assistant. “Ruthie—if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were challenging me to fire you, too.”

  Ruthie lifted a brow and gave her a shrug. “So fire me. I can start drawing my Social Security in a few months. I’ve been thinking about retiring anyway. My daughter and her husband have been begging me to move up to Providence and baby-sit for them while she works. Maybe it’s time.”

  Eleanor found herself speechless, almost too upset to even respond. The idea of losing her two key people was too much to comprehend. Refusing to answer Ruthie’s challenge and struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice, she said, “I’ll be in my office. Let me know if you hear from Bob.”

  ❧

  “Great job, Bob. Good to have you back. The client loved it. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

  Bob smiled at Cal Bender, his friend and boss. “The guy was easy to work with. He knew exactly what he wanted. I just followed his instructions.”

  “That’s not the way I heard it. That man said you were a creative genius.”

  Bob huffed. “A genius? Far from it.”

  Cal pulled a chair up close to Bob’s desk. “Have you heard from Mrs. Scrooge?”

  Bob saved his work then leaned back in his chair. “Not a word and I don’t expect I will. She’s a proud woman, Cal. She’d never admit she was wrong—about anything.”

  “You could come to work for me—on a full-time basis. I can’t pay you as much as Mrs. Scrooge is paying you, but with the increase in business we’ve had this year—”

  “Thanks, Cal, but no thanks. I need to make more money, not less. But I would like to continue to work for you on a part-time basis. I really need the income.”

  “I know. I sure wish there was some way I could help you raise the necessary funds to pay for Ginny’s treatments.”

  “It’ll take a miracle. Only God can provide that much money.”

  “Well, He can perform miracles. We’ll continue to pray for your little girl.”

  Bob turned his attention back to the Web site he was designing for their newest client. “Thanks, Cal. I have faith that God will provide those funds.”

  “Phone for you, Bob,” Cal’s secretary called out from the outer office. “Some woman. Said her name was Ruthie.”

  Bob picked up the receiver. “Hi, Ruthie. What’s up?”

  “Her highness has been asking about you.”

  “You didn’t tell her where I was, did you?”

  “You asked me not to.”

  “Good girl.”

  “Scrooge’s Web site shopping cart is rejecting the customers’ credit cards. Our queen bee is going bonkers. She’s driving us all crazy. Come back and put us out of our misery, please. You’re the only one who can take care of this mess.”

  Even though she couldn’t see it, Bob shook his head. “I can’t, Ruthie. I have to stand my ground. Sooner or later, Eleanor has to realize she can’t control people. We’re not pawns who come at her beck and call and can be thrown away when she’s through with us.”

  Ruthie chortled. “You’re right. She even threatened to fire me.”

  “You? Why?”

  “Insubordination. Back talk. Rebellion. Mutiny. Take your pick.”

  This was his fight. The last thing he wanted was get Ruthie involved. “I should never have told you where I was. I had no right to put you in the middle of this thing. This is between Eleanor and me. You had nothing to do with it.”

  Ruthie snickered on the other end of the line. “Hey, I’m kind of enjoying this battle. The old girl has had it coming for a long time. It’s about time someone she respects sets her straight and calls her bluff.”

  Bob considered the situation. Even though his pay had been lower than it should have been, considering his job position and its responsibilities, he’d been happy working for El. How had this whole situation gotten so out of hand? No, he refused to have El at odds with Ruthie because of him. It was time to take her out of the equation. “Do me a favor, okay?”

  “Sure, Bob. I’d do anything for you. You’re one of the few good guys left on this earth. What do you want me to do? Just name it.”

  “Tell Eleanor the truth. Tell her I’m working for Mr. Bender until I can find another job. If she asks, give her the phone number.”

  There was a pause on the other end then Ruthie asked, “You’re sure about this? You really want the fashion princess calling you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Does this mean you’re coming back to work?”

  He hesitated, not sure what to say. What he really wanted was for his life to return to normal. How he’d missed the sanctity and security of his little office in the accounting department. “Depends.”

  “Depends? On what?”

  Bob rubbed at his chin, searching his heart for an answer. “To be honest, Ruthie, I don’t really know.”

  “Why do you ta
ke it from her, Bob? Seems to me a man with your experience could find a job without so much stress, and a whole lot better salary. Knowing Eleanor Scrooge as I do, I doubt she pays you what you’re worth.”

  “I need this job, Ruthie. True, the pay isn’t that good but it isn’t only the money I need. I need the benefits that go with the job. With my family, I can’t afford to be without medical and dental insurance, even for a minute.”

  “But you’d get those benefits with another company. Surely that’s not the only reason.”

  Bob felt his heart constrict. “I—I have this delusion that El needs me, whether she knows it or not, and I have to be there for her. The two of us have a kinship that’s hard to explain. I know it sounds dumb, since she’s a successful and independent businesswoman, but I feel responsible for her. I always have, and I probably always will, no matter how badly she treats me.”

  “I heard you two were kind of sweet on each other when you were young. How come you never married her?”

  Bob paused. Why hadn’t he mustered up his courage, told Eleanor how much he loved her, and pled with her to stay in Newport rather than go off to New York City? If he had, would El have listened? Would his declaration been enough to convince her to stay? Could she have ever loved him as he loved her? “Things didn’t work out for us, Ruthie. El had stars in her eyes. She wanted big city lights, success, wealth, fame.” He blinked hard as visions of the wiry, independent little girl he’d rescued from the frozen pond tugged at his heart. “Life with me offered her none of those. She went her way, I went mine.”

  “Please don’t be offended,” her kindly voice said into his ear, “I know you loved Lydia, but I have to ask. Bob, are you still in love with Eleanor?”

  ❧

  Slowly lowering herself into her desk chair, Eleanor stared at the phone. What had she done to deserve this? How dare Bob leave her? Especially now when she needed him to work on the Web site? He was the one person in all the world she’d thought she could count on. Dear, sweet, patient Bob.

  Absentmindedly, she tapped her gold ballpoint pen on the desktop, her agitation about to get the better of her. And why would Ruthie, the best assistant she’d ever had, turn on her after all these years? Was there no loyalty in employees anymore? No allegiance to business owners who provided people with job opportunities and a place to grow in experience? What was this world coming to?

  She snatched up the phone on its first ring, sure it was Bob begging her to rehire him. But it wasn’t Bob. It was the salesman for a new line of handbags she was considering adding to the Web site. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk to you about this. I have other things on my mind—other things that take priority right now. Call me next week.”

  Perhaps she should try to reach Bob—to see if he’d found other employment. The thought frazzled her. Maybe he had gone to work for someone else. Maybe one of her competitors! He’d certainly had enough experience at Scrooge’s to make him a valuable asset to any accounting office.

  Unable to put it off any longer, Eleanor dialed Bob’s home number, only to get the answering machine. Assuming he didn’t have caller identification, she quickly hung up, not wanting him to know she’d called.

  “You wouldn’t be trying Bob Rachette’s number, would you?”

  Embarrassed at being caught, Eleanor grabbed up her pen and the memo pad from her desk, then glared at her assistant who had come into her office undetected. “Of course not. Why would I do such a thing? The man quit. I say good riddance. I have no use for employees who no longer want to work for me.”

  Ruthie sauntered toward her desk, a slight satisfied smirk on her face. “That includes me?”

  Eleanor gave her chin a regal lift. “If you fit in that category—then yes.”

  With the smirk still in place, Ruthie placed a note on her boss’s desk. “Just in case you’re interested, this is the number where Bob can be reached.”

  Instinctively, Eleanor reached for it then pulled back. “I have no intention of calling Bob. If he wants to speak with me, he knows how to reach me.”

  Ruthie’s brows rose, as did the corners of her mouth, when she reached for the little yellow note. “Since you feel that way about it, I’ll toss it in the trash. No sense cluttering up your desk with it.”

  Eleanor grabbed at the little paper, barely beating Ruthie to it. “Never mind. I’ll take care of it.”

  Backing away, Ruthie muffled a giggle and headed for the door, calling back over her shoulder, “When you talk to him, tell him hello for me.”

  Though rankled by her assistant’s sardonic words, Eleanor fought the urge to explode, kept her peace, and didn’t respond. As soon as the door closed behind Ruthie, she dialed Bob’s number.

  Six

  “Aren’t you about through with this foolishness?”

  Bob recognized the female voice immediately. “Hello, El,” he said coolly. “I’m a bit surprised to hear from you.”

  The pause on the other end was deafening. Finally, in her sweetest voice, Eleanor cooed, “It’s not the same here without you.”

  “You fired me, El.”

  “Only because you upset me. I—I miss you. You are coming back, aren’t you?”

  He missed her, too. “Is that an apology?”

  “I—I guess you could call it that. I think we both reacted too quickly and said things we didn’t mean.”

  Giving his head a shake and rolling his eyes, Bob leaned back in his chair and frowned. Maybe he had made a mistake leaving his employment at Scrooge’s. He knew from experience how El often spoke before thinking things through. Though she was usually able to cover her hasty actions with some fancy verbal footwork, Bob could always tell when she’d made an oral faux pas. Yet, regardless what El said or did that was out of line, she was a master at covering her tracks. Had her sudden firing of him been one of those spur-of-the-moment things? Maybe it’d been he who had reacted too quickly. He straightened in the chair, his eyes widening, not sure how to respond.

  “You have to come back. I need you. You’re the only one who understands me.”

  Bob sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Don’t try to soft-soap me, El. We both know you’ll get along fine without me.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  Her voice was pleading. He almost believed her.

  “Please, Bob. I don’t know what to do. Thanks to you and your wonderful work on Scrooge’s Web site, the customers are pouring into it, ready to purchase all sorts of things, but the shopping cart is refusing to take their orders! Our phones are ringing off the hook. Our customers are furious with us, and we’re missing thousands of dollars in sales. You have to come back and fix it!”

  “Don’t you ever listen to me? I told you that you’d have to hire a Webmaster to keep things up.”

  “But I don’t want to hire a Webmaster. I want you! No one cares about Scrooge’s like you do. And, besides, the whole Web site will have to be changed the week of Thanksgiving to reflect our Christmas theme.” Her voice softening, she added, “Please, Bob. Won’t you do it for me?”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. Maybe he could go back—at least for a little while before he began looking for another job—to help her through this crisis. What difference would a few weeks make? “Okay, I’ll come back, but only until after the first of the year. Is that understood?”

  “Oh, Bob, this makes me so happy!” Her voice was almost giddy. “Can you come today?”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours. I have to finish up a few things here first.”

  “I can hardly wait to see you.”

  Looking up, he noticed Cal Bender standing in the doorway. “Good-bye, El,” he spoke softly into the phone before placing it back in its cradle.

  “You’re going back to Scrooge’s?” Cal asked with a teasing smile, seating himself in a chair next to Bob’s desk.

  “Yeah, I guess I am. El needs me.”

  ❧

  For the next
couple of months, in addition to the little time he managed to spend at his desk in the accounting department, Bob worked on the Web site, adding new features, reworking old ones, getting the Christmas theme up, and putting out fires. As with most highly trafficked Web sites, there seemed to be an endless string of problems, and problems meant a halt in business and lost sales.

  “With the amount of business Scrooge’s Web site is doing now,” he told El with exasperation one afternoon a few days before Christmas as he stood in front of her desk, “you have no choice but to hire a full-time, professional Webmaster.”

  “But, Bob, I’m counting on you to—”

  Holding his palms up between them, he gave his head a vigorous shake. “No, El. In case you’ve forgotten, I am an accountant, not a Webmaster. I crunch numbers. Accounting is what I do, and I not only enjoy it, I’m good at it.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she told him, ignoring his refusal and rising from her desk. “I’m holding a press conference in a few minutes. Due to the Web site and the increased business it has brought from all across the country, our Christmas sales have skyrocketed and we’ve exceeded our wildest expectations, so I’m going to announce the big donation I’m giving to the children’s hospital in Scrooge’s name. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  All Bob could think about was what that vast amount of money could do for little Ginny, but he knew there were other children in the world who needed help, and he was glad she was making the donation to such a worthy cause.

  “They’re ready for you,” Ruthie said, pushing open the office door. “I told them you wanted the cameras set up in front of that big Christmas display near the front door.”

  Eleanor grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the open door. “Come with me, Bob. I want you there when I make the big announcement.”

  Dozens of people, mostly Scrooge’s local customers who were curious about what was going on, were already gathered around the reporters and video cameras when Eleanor and Bob reached the front of the store.