Built for Pleasure

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I froze. Were they going to frisk me? Did they think I was sneaking out the tape dispenser? “Peter, just break it to me, would you? Haven’t we become good enough friends that you could take a little pity and just get it over quickly?”

  His eyebrows rose, and he cocked his head. “Gwen, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Well, isn’t this how it’s done?”

  “How what is done?”

  “Aren’t I being fired?”

  “Aren’t you being… where did you get that idea? If this company were to shut down, you would be the last one out of the door. Hell, I’d get fired before you would.”

  I thought that was an odd comment, but my relief caused me to overlook it. “Then, what is it?”

  “Would you just turn around and look?”

  I turned around and the most obvious thing was a soft blue, Cadillac SUV. It sat before me like a trophy, wearing a huge white bow on its roof. “Did you get a new car?”

  “Did I… My God, Gwen. You are the hardest person I know to surprise. Hasn’t anyone ever done anything good for you?”

  “Me? Are you saying that’s for me?”

  “Of course, who else?”

  “Now, wait a minute. I don’t see any other baby blue Cadillacs around here. Why am I getting one?”

  “Well, in the first place, you’ve been doing a marvelous job and I talked you up to the boss. He said he’d like to reward your hard work and that you would be a very good liaison between him and the rest of the people in the company. He’s not from around here, you know, and he thinks that it would be very helpful if you could let him know when there are problems in the plant or any personal issues with the employees. He wants everyone to be happy and things to run smoothly and feels as though they don’t all trust him yet.”

  “And for that, I get a Cadillac?”

  He nodded. “Yes, and no. Yes, you are getting the Cadillac, but no it’s not just because the boss wants to reward you. You will also be asked to run an errand from time to time between here and the boss’ house or to pick up someone from the bus station, or the airport, or whatever. You know. Consider it like a company car except that it belongs to you.”

  “Peter! I can’t even afford to pay the taxes on that thing or put gasoline in it. No, thank you. I’ll keep my little beater.”

  “Sorry. I can’t do that. The boss was very firm on this. He told me if you refused, that I was fired. You don’t want me to be fired, do you? Anyway, here’s a company credit card. Your insurance, gasoline, maintenance, everything gets charged to that card. It’s not going to cost you a penny and it won’t show up on your W-2.” He held out a key ring and grinned. “Here you go. Why don’t you take it for a ride?”

  I was shaking my head, still confused. “Peter, this isn’t normal. I’ve only been here a few weeks. There are people working here for gosh, more than thirty years. Their whole lives some of them. Why should I get a car and they don’t?”

  “Don’t worry about them. The boss takes care of everyone in one way or another. This is what he wants to do for you, and like I said, my job depends on it and you will be using it for company business. So, please, can you just take it for a drive, tell me how much you love it and let me tell the boss that my job is safe?”

  I was out of arguments, which was rare. I took the keys from his hand and walked over to the Cadillac, running my hand over the dove-blue paint job. “I think this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “They tell me it’s pretty good in winter, too. That should keep you and Carrie safe.”

  There was something about his words that sounded familiar, but again, I was ecstatically happy and not paying attention. I opened the door and looked inside. The interior was a creamy white tufted leather and matching carpet. I carefully climbed into it, tapping my shoes on the doorframe in case there was any sand on my soles. I slid the key into the ignition and turned it. It began humming with an underlying base that rocked my heart. This was the sexiest thing I’d ever sat in. I turned on the sound system and strains of Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody filled its interior. “Shoot, I’m just going to live in here.”

  Peter was laughing. “You don’t know how much pleasure it gives me to see you so happy.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t be? Oh, my God,” I said, clapping my hand over my mouth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What are people going to say? You and I are always laughing and neither one of us do very much work. When they find out I got a company car like this, oh my God, they’re going to think we’re sleeping together.”

  “As delightful of a thought as that may be, my dear Gwen, we are not and do not intend to and I give you my word on that. So, to hell with what they think, enjoy your new car. Take the rest of the day off. Go pick up your daughter and ride the country roads with the windows open. It’s too beautiful of a day to let it pass.”

  “Peter?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think I love you.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he said, laughing as he walked back into the building and left me with my new toy.

  Chapter 21

  Coulter

  “So? Did she like it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Marshall, I would say that was an understatement. Of course, she went through all the arguments you anticipated. She was suspicious, she was afraid the others would talk and think that she and I were having an affair, she was afraid she couldn’t pay the taxes, gas, or insurance, and of course, I assured her none of those were worth worrying about.”

  “Did you give her the card?”

  “Yes, sir, I certainly did.”

  “Good. I bet she looked great in it.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, she would look great in anything, but baby blue and cream leather certainly are her style.”

  “Good. Now, here’s what’s next. I’ve watched the weather report and the supposed to stay warm, at least enough to be outside. A week from Saturday, I’m going to host a company picnic. I want you to line up the works. Bring in tents, plenty of seating, games for the kids, pony rides, a dance floor and music, and for God sakes, lots of beer and delicious food.”

  Peter raised his eyebrows. “And we are celebrating…?”

  “Do we need to celebrate anything?”

  “Well, if I’m going to spread the invitation, they’re probably going to want to know why they should come.”

  “Good thinking. Tell them I want to thank them for sticking with the company through the transition. Tell them I want them to get to know me and what life will be like at Marshall manufacturing from here on out. I want to earn their loyalty, I want to benefit the community, and between you and me, I want to make Gwen happy. Taking care of her friends and family will do that.”

  “She is one lucky lady.” Peter finished making his notes and stood to leave.

  “Oh, and Peter?”

  “Sir?”

  “It’s me who’s lucky.”

  Chapter 22

  Gwen

  I had Carrie dressed in an adorable little outfit with blue jeans and a checked shirt. She was wearing a hand-knitted, navy sweater and baby-sized capital Keds tennis shoes. She could totter along on her own very well, but I held her hand on the uneven ground at the estate.

  Mr. Marshall had invited the entire company’s employees and their families to a picnic. Peter told me what a generous and kind man he was and that he wanted everyone to be happy that they stuck it out through the transition. The weather was perfect and as Carrie and I parked and began our walk toward the massive log home; I felt like we had entered one of Disney’s Wonderlands.

  There was an entire children’s carnival set up to one side. There were ponies to ride, little colored cars on the merry-go-round, games where you could win prizes, and an entire table set up with plain cupcakes and dozens of colors of frosting and various toppings. The kids were going crazy over that. They could make up anything they wanted and eat to their hearts’ delight. I h
oped secretly that Mr. Marshall had good dental insurance because there were a lot of cavities in the making that day. I let Carrie make one cupcake, but most of it ended up on her face before it made it inside her mouth. I cheered her on and wiped her with a napkin and continued on.

  There was a staff set aside to watch the children, so the adults could circulate and eat at will. The entire affair was so very thoughtful, and I knew everyone appreciated it. Everywhere I went, I heard Mr. Marshall’s name bandied about. People were enamored of him and the word was that there was a list hundreds of names deep of people waiting to apply for an opening. I didn’t think there were going to be many coming up very soon, and I was very glad that I had met Peter and ended up his assistant.

  Patsy had moved in with us and while she made me feel a little safer, she was another version of Bitsy. There were some things that just escaped her. She helped to look after Carrie when I went to run errands and that helped a lot. Still, odd little things happened from time to time. They weren’t really destructive—things like my garbage can was brought back up to the side of the house before I got home. No one in the neighborhood would do that. That meant someone who didn’t belong there had done it for me. Then there were the pizza deliveries, every Friday night. The delivery boy wouldn’t say who’d ordered them, but they were always prepaid and had the exact toppings I loved. I told the boy not to bring any more, but he said he had his orders and they would just rot on the front porch if I didn’t take them in.

  Then there was the matter of a wardrobe. Peter greeted me one morning after the car and handed me a credit card with my name on it. “The boss says you’re to go out and buy yourself a wardrobe,” he told me.

  “Why?”

  “For the same reason that you got the Cadillac. He wants you to represent the company well and feels that it would be an undue financial burden on you, so he’d like you to treat yourself to whatever you want and just use that card. Don’t worry, there’s no limit to it.”

  I just stood there with the card in my hand and my mouth hanging open. There had to be more to it than that. Why was that man showering me with these gifts? Was it really and truly just part of the job?

  That was one reason that I went to the picnic that day. I wanted to thank him personally for all he’d done for the community. I also needed to thank him for what he had done for me. It was almost as if he knew exactly what I needed, which was impossible because I’d never even seen the man, much less met him. In fact, there was a lot of speculation as to who he was. Some people said he was in his late 50s, short, fat, and bald. They said his wife had left him for a guy who owned a McDonald’s and that his heart had been broken. I thought that sounded a little hokey, but there were other rumors.

  Some people said he was an invalid, a man who had made a lot of money in his life and now, just as he was dying, he decided to become benevolent and adopted the company and the local townspeople as his pseudo-family. They said he wanted someone to show up for his funeral when he died. Now that version seemed a little more plausible to me, but then, there was nothing for sure.

  I found Peter who, as usual, was overdressed in a navy suit with a pinstripe shirt and red tie.

  “You look like you’re ready for Fourth of July,” I teased him, and he had the good grace to blush.

  “Is it really that bad?”

  I nodded and leaned forward to pinch his arm. “Just teasing. Listen, Peter, I’d like the opportunity to meet Mr. Marshall. He has done a lot for me and for this community and I would like to represent all of us and tell him thank you. Is he inside?”

  Peter looked over his shoulder and then back at me. “Yes, he’s inside, but he won’t come out until he’s ready. He’s like that, very private.”

  “Well, how do I go about making an appointment with him?”

  “Don’t worry. He knows you’re here. You’ll see him eventually.” Peter was very enigmatic in his statement and wandered away before I could ask any more questions. That didn’t escape my notice.

  There was a professional party organizer on hand. She was hired in from Chicago, someone said, and she got up on a stage with a microphone and announced that there was going to be a play. She had scripts for a dozen people, costumes, and was looking for volunteers for the parts. A number of hands went up and she chose people appropriately. She pointed at me.

  “You, I want you to play the female lead.”

  “Me? No, I’m not an actress.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head, and motioning me up on the stage. Everyone around us began to applaud and I had no choice but to mount the stage steps and take the script she was holding out to me.

  She rounded up some of the people to assemble a pre-painted backdrop for the stage. The rest of us were sent to tents to be costumed. We were expected to memorize our lines but held our scripts for guidance. It was a spoof on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and guess who was Juliet.

  Carrie was safely in the hands of the daycare workers but was given a front row seat when I emerged from backstage in my Juliet costume. I had to admit, it was almost as if it had been made for me. The gown matched my eye color perfectly and my long, blonde hair was braided down my back. A tiara was settled upon my head, as though I was a princess, which Juliet was not.

  I went through the motions and waited to see who Romeo would be. Imagine my surprise when Romeo’s first lines came up and Peter emerged from stage left, carrying a chimpanzee wearing tights and a beaded tunic. He held the animal as if it were speaking the lines, but he was the ventriloquist behind. It was hysterical. When he spoke the lines to challenge Mercutio in the sword fight, the chimp was given a paper sword and waved it furiously through the air. The man who played Mercutio was laughing so hard, he fell to his knees and the entire effect was perfect. It was a shortened version, thank God, because people were laughing so hard they couldn’t speak, eat, or drink. It was the most perfect afternoon.

  People were beginning to leave when Peter came up to me. “He wants to see you now.”

  “Now?” I was still wearing my Juliet costume.

  “Yes, right now. Don’t bother to change. I’ll take care of Carrie.”

  “But where?”

  He pointed out to the cabin. “Go in the front door, up the staircase and it’s the second door on the right. That’s his home office. No need to knock, just walk in.

  I wondered at all the mystery involved, it made me feel a little uncomfortable.

  Chapter 23

  Coulter

  I heard her coming up the stairs, although her footsteps were light. I had my ear pressed to the door and as she came close, I vaulted over my desk like a twelve-year-old and sat there, waiting. I’d only seen her from afar since she’d left Chicago. I felt my heart pounding and my groin ached with wanting her.

  The door opened and there she was. My Juliet.

  “You.” Her word was more of an accusation than a realization.

  I nodded. “Yes, me.”

  She rolled her eyes and threw her arms out to her side. “How could I not know this?”

  I shrugged. “I went to a great deal of trouble to make sure you wouldn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you would run again.”

  “But…”

  “Well? You would have, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t have taken the job, or the car or the expense account. You wouldn’t have taken anything that came from me, even if you’d earned it. Am I right?”

  She nodded resignedly. “You’re right. Why, Colt? Why do you continue to pursue me? Why did you do all that you did?”

  “I’m in love with you.”

  She sucked in her breath and went pale. I came around the desk, walked her to the leather sofa and handed her a snifter filled with brandy. Getting one for myself, I sat down next to her.

  “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Why did you destroy my apartment. All my things? My wardrobe, for heaven�
�s sake, Colt. I’m still paying for it and never got to wear a fraction of it. Why would you do that to me?”

  What was she talking about? “Gwen, you have to believe me. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who broke into your apartment and when was this?”

  “It wasn’t you?”

  “Hell, no! Why would I do something like that? That’s insane!”

  She looked at the snifter and nodded. “Now that you put it like that, I see your point. But there wasn’t anyone else, Colt. Everyone else was accounted for.”

  “It could have been some kid, looking for dope money. God, Gwen, I don’t know.”

  “No, this was deliberately aimed at me. Bitsy and Carrie’s things were untouched. Mine were destroyed.”

  I felt alarm and anger surfacing. “Who would hate you that much?”

  She shook her head. “No one I can think of. No one, Colt. I thought you were trying to control me—that you ruined my things so I would be forced to take what you gave me. I thought that’s why it was only my stuff that was destroyed.”

  “Jesus, Gwen, does that sound like me?” I rolled my eyes. “Do you really consider me a maniac?”

  She shook her head.

  I went to hold her, but she held me off. “What about the phone calls with no answer? The envelope of shredded newspapers? The pizzas?”

  I was really getting alarmed then. “Gwen, listen to me. I send pizzas to your house because I know you’re tired on Friday nights and I wanted you to relax. But that’s it. I know nothing about phone calls or shredded newspaper. You have to tell me who would have reason to do this to you.”

  “That’s it—I don’t know. I blamed you only because I couldn’t think of anyone else. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, that’s flattering.”

  “Colt, don’t be like that,” she said, reaching out to me. “I was scared. Everything was weird, and the apartment thing felt really invasive. You have to admit you’ve been following me. You know I asked you not to.”

  I had to admit it. “Yes, that’s true. I’m not wanting to spook you, Gwen. God, no. That’s the last thing. I’m in love with you and don’t want to lose you. The rest, well, I am trying to take care of you.”