Secretary with Spunk

by Brittany Brinegar

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Secretary with Spunk

  Meet Jenny Nicolay

  Author Note

  About the Author

  Sign up for Brittany Brinegar's Mailing List

  Secretary

  with

  Spunk

  A Spies of Texas Short Story

  Brittany E. Brinegar

  BRITT LIZZ PUBLISHING COMPANY

  Copyright © 2020 Brittany E. Brinegar

  All rights reserved.

  Meet Jenny Nicolay

  SOFT COUNTRY AND WESTERN music played on the radio. The combination of strings and the toe-tapping tune made for a unique style. It reminded me of swinging jazz with a country and western flare.

  “Who is this?” I pointed to the radio.

  Mr. Charlie Finn turned the dial. “Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. Right or Wrong is an old classic.”

  “We don’t listen to music like this in Boston. What do you call this?” The heel of my cherry-red swing back tapped the wooden floorboards.

  “Texas swing music. Bob is called the King of Western Swing.” The owner of the general store spun a broom, showing off his dance moves.

  “Oh now, Charlie you will scare the girl off before she settles in.” Mrs. Evalyn Waley dusted her pristine chignon hairdo. “What are your plans for our little town, Miss Nicolay?”

  Plans? I shifted the heavy train case. My entire life amounted to two pieces of luggage. Graduation day should open doors, mine closed them. But Lake Falls presented the chance for a new start. I smiled at the affluent woman. “Perhaps you could help me, Mrs. Waley?”

  “I would be honored, my dear.” She linked her arm through mine. “I suggest you stay at the Country Corner Boarding House. A lovely married couple runs the inn and she is a fantastic cook.” Mrs. Waley flicked a jeweled hand at my luggage. “Mr. Nedemyer will fetch your bag for you later so I can show you around, unencumbered.”

  With a wave to Mr. Finn, we stepped into the Texas heat. The sun sizzled and I wrote a mental note to purchase sunglasses. “How long have you lived here, Mrs. Waley?”

  “My whole life, dear. I attended boarding school for a time but Lake Falls is my forever home. My husband's family is a staple in the community. He’s our mayor.”

  “What luck. I met the perfect tour guide this morning.”

  “You are too sweet.” With sashaying hips, she danced across the street. “Most of our businesses are located on Main Street. We arranged the town in a circular pattern rather than the dull town square variety.”

  Businessmen exited the largest building on the square... circle for lunch. Children dashed through the centrally located park. “The clean air is a change of pace,” I said sucking in a breath.

  Mrs. Waley eased to a park bench. “So, Miss Nicolay, what are you looking for?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. I boarded a train and hoped to find a home. This place feels right.” I dusted the skirt of my red and white polka-dot dress before sitting next to her.

  “A beautiful young girl such as yourself doesn’t hold the affection of a beau?”

  I scrunched my nose. “Ditched him in Boston. I’m not looking...”

  “We have some handsome young fellows your age.” She ticked names from the manicured fingers.

  I attempted to wave her off the husband hunt but when the matchmaker gene engaged. “I’m not looking for a new beau.”

  “Which is the best time to find one.” She pinched my rosy cheek.

  “I graduated from Harvard in the spring with a degree in business. I’m looking for a fresh start to my career.”

  “My, my. The Ivy League. There is a young man who returned from Yale last month.”

  Two Ivy League grads in the same town, what were the odds? The prospect of teasing a Yale rival intrigued me. “Tell me more about this Bulldog.”

  Confusion flicked across her brow but politeness restricted the question. “Sawyer is a brilliant boy. Movie star handsome too. His father is Charlie, who you met a moment ago.” Her hand drifted to the store.

  “What does Mr. Finn do?”

  “Well, he attended Yale with the idea of becoming a lawyer. But something changed his mind because he came home with grand dreams. He’s always struggled between practicality and chasing his dreams. My two cents, anyway.”

  I crossed my legs, my interest peaked. “What are his dreams?”

  “He imagines himself as a swashbuckling private investigator, solving crime.” A grin escaped, revealing Mrs. Waley’s smile lines. “The poor darling. No one has the heart to mention our lack of crime here. We’re a safe, close-knit community.”

  Imagine my luck. The girl with a nose for mystery landed in a town with an Ivy League Gumshoe. Sawyer Finn sounded like a man worth meeting even if his parents saddled him with two last names.

  “Does he operate an office in town?” I asked.

  “He rented a place from my husband. A decent place to start but in need of a spruce.”

  Mr. Waley had a finger in every pie – Mayor, real estate. What next?

  “Located on the Circle?” I scanned the buildings, landing on a two-story office caddy-corner to the General Store.

  “Heavens no. This place is off the beaten path. Waley mused Sawyer’s only clients would be the roaches.” Mrs. Waley touched her pearl necklace. “I am leading a charge to tidy the town but the council drags their feet.”

  “Why did this Finn fellow take the property?”

  “Budgetary constraints I imagine. Don’t get me wrong, my dear, he will make a living. He’s a capable young man. But the detective business is a longshot.”

  “What about that office building?” I pointed to the prime real estate on the Circle. “Is it one of your husband's properties?”

  “Why yes. I can’t speak to the availability, though.”

  “Do you think your husband would be willing to meet with me?”

  “Regarding what, dear?”

  “Renting the space.”

  “An aspiring businesswoman?” She clapped. “I own a dress shop across the street. I can give you advice about starting. What type of business are you thinking?”

  I hesitated, unsure if I should share my new plan. In the infancy stages of development, it probably sounded rash. “I’m considering a partnership with the new PI. From what you described, he could use someone with business acumen.”

  Mrs. Waley pursed her lips. “As I said, I’m not sure a detective agency is a solid business in our town.”

  “Which is why Mr. Finn might benefit from my expertise.” I stood from the bench. “Where can I find Mr. Waley?”

  “You’re starting right away?” A vein in her forehead pulsed. “I worry I gave you the wrong instruction somehow.”

  “No ma’am. You gave me direction.”

  For the first time in months, my life had a purpose. The incident with the thief on the train fueled my desire. Learning about a detective’s agency completed the puzzle. I wanted to be a detective. Working my way into a stubborn Yale man’s business proved a difficult hurdle.

  I decided to ignore my doubts and play to my strengths. Some called me pushy, I called it spunk.

  With a check of my wristwatch, I opted for a bite before barging in on the real estate mogul. The business crowd flocked in two directions, the General Store or the Panther Grill. Looking for a change of scenery, I selected the Panther Grill.

  Waitresses bustled, balancing heavy trays. Metal silverware clanking and muffled voices created a mesmerizing effect. My nose twitched as a tray with a hamburger and French fries passed. I scanned for an open seat, finding none. If the crowd was any indication, the food must be spectacular. A man with a newspaper u
nder his arm vacated a stool at the lunch counter. I pounced.

  “Is this seat taken?” The words spilled with a Texas accent, mimicking Mrs. Waley’s affluent vernacular. The ease with which I slipped into an alternate persona concerned me. Lying and deception became a reflex.

  “Please do, hon.” A blonde ponytail swiveled. “The fella here before you wanted no part of my chit-chat. Wolfed down his food and scrammed.”

  “I assume the crowd is a testament to quality?”

  “You’ll enjoy as long as you give the special a wide birth. Danny gets too creative with a mish-mash goulash. I recommend the chicken fried or burger.” She extended a hand. “I’m Jean Marie, by the way.”

  “Jenny Nicolay.”

  The waitress paused at the counter long enough for me to order a burger and an ice-cold Coca-Cola. The cook slapped a patty on the grill with a satisfying sizzle.

  “What brings you to town?”

  “Business.” Trapped into the accent, I continued to deceive the woman. “Do you know the detective, Sawyer Finn?”

  A grin crept across her face. “I sure enough do.”

  My stomach dropped. “Boyfriend?”

  “Heavens no.” Jean Marie snorted and slurped her strawberry milkshake. “He’s my cousin.”

  “Oh.” My smile returned. “I hope to partner with Mr. Finn. Can you give me any insights?”

  “As a detective?”

  “Why not?”

  “I might consider pitching a secretary position if I were you. He won’t go for a partner unless you prove your worth.” Jean Marie chewed the end of her straw. “It’s been a while since I last saw Sawyer. Before he went to school. But I can try to help.”

  A coin danced over my knuckles as I considered my questions. The nervous tick improved concentration. “Is he the real deal? The consensus is your cousin is in over his head.”

  “Perhaps he is. But only because he refuses to ask for help. The more town folk discourage his plans, the more he digs in.” Jean Marie twisted her mouth. “I heard stories about his exploits at Yale. He thwarted a purse-snatcher during his baseball game. Ran through campus wearing his uniform and tackled the guy before campus police finished their afternoon cup of coffee.”

  “He has a background in solving crimes?”

  “I don’t think so. But he’s brave and that counts for something.”

  The waitress delivered my lunch and I snagged a steaming fry, a perfect balance between crunch and savory. “What else can you tell me about him? Did he go to Yale because Harvard rejected him?”

  “Sawyer had his choice of schools, unlike me. Everyone wanted him for either football, baseball, or academia. A regular Mr. All-American.” Jean Marie tilted her head. “I think you two would make a fine match.”

  I coughed on my soda pop. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Sure, I do. You eat lunch with a girl, you learn about her. For instance, I can tell you’re putting on a show. A marvelous one mind you, but I possess an ear for theatrics.”

  Dropping the accent, I munched another fry. “The East Coast vernacular tends to alienate. I apologize for deceiving you, Jean Marie.”

  She waved. “Forget it. You impressed me. One of the reasons I think you’d work well with my cousin.”

  “Does he like to playact?”

  “Not hardly. Sawyer is button-downed. He needs some fun in his life.”

  “And you think I want boring?”

  “Not boring. Reserved.”

  Twisting my mouth, I challenged her judgment. “Not a ringing endorsement.”

  “I think you would complement each other.”

  Matchmaking by Jean Marie and Mrs. Waley nudged me to Sawyer. Were their instincts right?

  Or was he one of few eligible bachelors in the small town? Whatever the answer, I wasn’t looking for anything more than a job.

  “I appreciate the insight, Jean Marie. Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck. He’ll be smitten.”

  Following lunch, I marched into Town Hall and requested a meeting with the mayor, Mr. Waley.

  “Did you schedule an appointment?” his secretary asked.

  Tilting my head, I read the upsidedown shorthand of the appointment book – open afternoon. “I confirmed one o’clock with Mr. Waley. He wanted to keep the meeting off the books.”

  “Call back tomorrow and schedule a proper appointment.” She returned to the vital task of filing her nails.

  “How did you bust me?”

  “No one calls me Mr. Waley.” A distinguished gentleman stepped outside the Mayor’s office. He wore a midnight blue vest with cuffed shirt sleeves.

  Mrs. Waley’s words popped into my head. “You’re plain Waley?”

  “Bingo. Theodore James Waley the 4th can be a mouthful.” He scrubbed his jaw. “Five minutes. Make them count.” He closed the door to the office. A desk fan fluttered a stack of papers.

  With five minutes to pitch my idea, I skipped the backstory. Limited time to make an impression. No pressure. “You rented space to Sawyer Finn for his agency?”

  Traffic noise filtered through an open window, but not registering on the Boston scale. “We signed the papers yesterday.”

  I prided myself on the ability to read people. Waley valued a man’s word and refused to break contracts unless presented with an opportunity. “What about the property on the Circle, next to Finn and Sons?”

  “Well out of Sawyer’s budget.” Waley adjusted round glasses. “Are you his secretary or something?”

  “Mr. Finn made a mistake in his purchase. You and I both know it. The location is pitiful and there is no room for expansion.”

  “He got a fair deal.”

  “I’m not saying otherwise. But Mr. Finn doesn’t recognize what’s best for him.”

  “And you do?”

  “Yes.” Despite having never met, I understood his business.

  Waley propped his feet. “What do you suggest we do? I won’t nullify his contract.”

  Scanning his office I spotted a pattern – playing cards, golf clubs, a newspaper opened to the sports section, and slips from the horse track. “How about a wager Mr. Waley... Waley?”

  His posture straightened and he interlocked his fingers on the desk. “You have my attention.”

  “Perhaps a round of golf?”

  “Stakes?”

  “The new office space.” I curled a lock of chocolate hair behind my ear.

  “And if I win?”

  “You won’t but I’ll humor you with a response.” With a cocky smile, I flicked my eyebrow. “I happen to own a golf club signed by Ben Hogan, used during his perfect season.”

  Waley released a whistle. “You must be desperate to offer such a prize.”

  “I need something to entice you. I’m not worried about losing.”

  “You’re bold Miss Nicolay, I’ll give you that.”

  “Do we have a wager?”

  “We do.” He extended his hand across the table. “Gentleman’s agreement, right? No reason to draw up a contract?”

  “I entrust you to hold up your end when I win.”

  “We’ll see. I play with the pros on occasion and I hold my own.”

  I pranced to the door and offered a wink. “My father spent time as a pro golfer. He taught me everything he knows.”

  The statement brought a lump to my throat. Waley had no idea how true it was.

  I chewed my bottom lip as I exited Town Hall. Sometimes my excitement got the best of me. Did I jump the gun? I agreed to a bet before meeting Sawyer Finn. Jean Marie’s words replayed - prove my value. I waved off the concern. I’d find a way to convince Sawyer.

  My heels dug into the gravel road as I hiked to his hole-in-the-wall office. I strolled from place to place in Boston without incident, but our streets were paved. My ankle rolled and I almost took a header. Dance taught me grace and balance. My father sent me to finishing school, worried he couldn’t teach me everything a woman should lea
rn. The school had merits, but I hated everything about the Emily Post curriculum. Everything except dance.

  Townsfolk waved and smiled as I hiked to my destination. The community represented a stark contrast to my childhood. Something about the south bred hospitality. My lip snarled as I curved to the next street.

  The detective shared the office building with a taxidermist. Strike one. I climbed the front steps and a plank crumpled under my foot. Strike two. The door squeaked and I almost called strike three. The foul ball kept the play alive.

  “Good afternoon.” A man resembling Lurch in the Yorker cartoon popped from behind a counter.

  A high-pitched yelp escaped. My hand covered my chest. “Hello.” With vacant eyes, he stroked a stuffed beaver. I gulped. “Are you the taxidermist, I hope?”

  “Yes ma’am. Do you need something stuffed?”

  “No thank you.” I cleared my throat. “I’m here for your neighbor.”

  “Strange fellow. He refuses to address Gil.”

  “Gil?”

  Lurch lifted the beaver.

  “Nice meeting you... both.”

  I ducked inside the next office. The taxidermist received another strike for the punchout. The pressure to win the bet intensified. A detective agency with these issues predicted doom and failure. I entered the stale, one-room office, assaulted by a cloud of dust. Pinching my nose, I almost wished for the formaldehyde next door.

  My eyes adjusted to the dim light. Specks of sunlight peeked through a grimy window casting shadows on the detective. An athletic blonde man plopped to the floor, releasing a sigh. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  “Looks like a big mess to me.” He leaped to his feet with dilated blue-jean eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. The door was open. My name is Jenny Nicolay.”

  A crooked smile from the dual surname. “Sawyer Finn.”

  From the moment we met, it was intrigue...

  Continue Jenny and Sawyer’s adventure

  as they embark on their first case:

  Enigma of Lake Falls.

  Author Note

  Secretary with Spunk

  THIS SHORT STORY IS a special deleted scene depicting Jenny’s arrival in Lake Falls. In the full-length novel, you will experience the mystery of Jenny Nicolay’s arrival from Sawyer’s point of view. She storms into his life to push his buttons.