His Uptown Girl (13 page)

“Tony owns and operates a restaurant, doesn't he?”

“Yes. God has really blessed our family. Tony loves to work with food as much as I love to work with motors. We've each managed to run a business doing what we love the most. God really opened the doors for both of us.”

Georgette wasn't sure she agreed. Over time, she'd seen how hard Bob worked, and she knew the long hours he put in. He also hadn't always run a good profit margin. God had certainly made it possible, but He hadn't made it easy.

She didn't understand why men like her father had it easy, when good men like Bob didn't. Her grandfather had passed the chain of stores on to her father, so her father didn't have to put his heart and soul into building the business; it was already very successful when he took over. That hadn't stopped him from doing many things she considered questionable, if not downright unethical to increase his profits.

Bob, on the other hand, sometimes barely broke even in a transaction, simply because he honored his estimates, even if the situation wasn't in his favor.

Lately she'd been finding that when she came home from work, she missed him, especially now that she had reminders of him everywhere. She heard the minute he came home, because he parked his car on the cement pad next to the garage. Today, she had stopped what she was doing and listened to him as he cut the engine and walked past the garage to get to his house.

Her heart pounded sharply until he showed up back at her door, ready to demonstrate the meal of the day.

It was foolishness. He had been more than obvious in his professional feelings, yet she couldn't help but compare Bob favorably to every other man she'd ever known. Despite the privations of his youth, Bob was satisfied with his life. He was who he was, and that was a nice, honest man who put God and his family first in his life. It made him easy to love, and one day, when he decided to settle down and get married, he would make a good husband to a very fortunate woman.

A twinge of jealousy for a woman who didn't exist yet flashed through Georgette's mind.

Bob walked to the fridge, opened it, and began rummaging through the meager contents. “Now is the time for you to put in an onion. I know we bought some.”

She couldn't help but watch him. Bob was physically fit because he worked hard all day, but she didn't often see him without his baggy coveralls. Up until now, his coking lessons had kept her running around too much to notice, but at this moment she had nothing else to do but watch.

Georgette blinked, and forced herself to get her mind back on cooking, and away from how good Bob looked, especially from the back. “I think they're on the second shelf, behind the yogurt.”

He reached in further, then backed up, an onion in his hand. “You're supposed to put the onions in the bin marked for vegetables.”

“But I didn't want the carrots to smell like onions.”

“Don't worry, that won't happen. Although, you should have kept the onions in the bag.”

“Really? But they weren't in a bag in the store, so I
thought you weren't supposed to keep them in the bag at home.”

He shook his head. “Nope. It's best left in the bag. Now it's time to cut it up and put it in with the meat as it cooks.”

She accepted the onion, and searched in the drawer for her one and only chef's knife, which had been given to her by Bob's mother. “Is it true what they say about onions, that they make you cry? I've never dealt with one raw.”

“Then you're in for a bit of an education, George.”

She had received more education in the last three days than she'd had in the last three years, but Georgette held her tongue.

He stepped closer when she placed the onion on the cutting board. “There are a number of old wives' tales about cutting an onion, but I think it's just best to do it quickly. First cut the ends off, peel it and then cut it up into bite-sized pieces.”

Georgette did as instructed, and soon she had half the onion cut. At first, the strong smell was just annoying, but the more she cut, the worse it became, and soon, her eyes were burning and watering.

She looked up at Bob and smiled. “I see what everyone means.”

“You'd better stop talking and hurry up. I don't want to end up like you!” As if to emphasize his point, he chuckled and stepped back.

“Coward,” she sniffled. “This isn't so bad. It burns, but I can take it.” Except that her nose was getting increasingly stuffed-up, and her eyes were overflowing. She cut a little more, and the burn worsened, making her want to close her eyes, which she couldn't do if she was
going to finish cutting up the onion. The tears became more irritating as they dribbled down her cheeks.

She sniffled again, and raised one hand to swipe away the tears.

“No! George! Don't wipe your eyes with your…”

Using the back of her hand, she rubbed over her left eye.

“…hands…”

“Ow! Ow!” The sensation changed from a burn to a stab of pain. Her eyes squeezed shut of their own accord, and she dropped the knife to raise her hands, but stopped them in midair, trying to overcome the urge to rub her eyes. “I can't see! It hurts!”

A warmth enclosed both wrists. “Come to the sink. Quickly.”

She followed Bob as he dragged her to the sink. He enclosed both wrists with one hand, and the water started running. She heard splashing, and he pulled both her hands under the water. “Bend down so your face is over the sink. Keep your hands under the water.” He released her wrists, and one wet hand pressed into the back of her head. A gush of warm water splashed over her eyes, followed by another. “Try to open your eyes now.”

She managed to open both, but the left eye wouldn't open more than a slit.

“Keep them open.”

Before she could respond, a couple more splashes of water hit her.

“That helped,” she sputtered, spitting out some water that had splashed into her mouth before she straightened.

“Good. Now wash your hands with dish soap, and you'll be able to finish what you were doing.”

She dribbled some soap onto her hands, rinsed them and returned to the chopping board with the half-
processed onion. Working quickly, she swiped the cut pieces into the pot and swiped the remainder of the onion into the garbage. “Forget it. That's enough. I don't need so much onion anyway.”

“That's cheating.”

“Too bad,” she muttered as she ran water over the chopping board and knife, standing back as far as she could while doing so. When the board was sufficiently rinsed, she knew she should turn around, but she didn't want to. Without looking, she knew her eyes were red and puffy, her face was streaked and blotchy, and she would have unsightly splashes of water down the front of her T-shirt.

She'd never looked so bad in her life, not even on the day her father had kicked her out of the house.

It shouldn't have mattered, but she'd already lost everything; all she had left was her appearance, as silly as that might seem. The harshness of her new reality smacked her between the eyes. How ridiculous to be brought so low by a lowly onion, but there it was. She stood before Bob rejected by her family, homeless and ugly.

She didn't understand why everything was happening to her this way. She hadn't led a bad life, even before she became a Christian, yet God allowed everything to be stripped painfully away.

She turned around, only because she couldn't keep her back to him all night.

Bob lifted his wrist and checked his watch. “I think you have everything under control now. I have to go, I'm already late for practice. Cut up the carrots and celery and throw them in, then in an hour, cut up the potatoes and add them, too. When the potatoes are cooked, you'll have made your very first batch of beef stew.”

“But there's so much here. Will you be back in time to help me eat it?”

“Sorry. Worship team practice won't be over in time. I'm going to grab something quick on the way to Adrian's. We were supposed to start early tonight because Paul has to be at the school afterwards for some kind of competition.” He began walking to the door, hesitated, then turned around. “I feel so strange. I almost said that I have to get up early in the morning, too, but I don't.” He grinned from ear to ear. “I get to sleep in.”

“I hope the noise of my truck starting in the morning won't wake you up.”

“Don't worry, it won't. By the way, when I was talking to Adrian earlier today he said he's going to have some time to stop by and go over the books with you tomorrow, to get a start on what he needs for our corporate taxes. I think you'll be fine without me, so I told him it was okay.” He checked his watch again. “You'll have enough leftovers here to last you through supper tomorrow, so I guess I'll just see you Friday at work. Bye.”

B
ob missed his timing with the cymbal, then hit the lower tom harder than he should have. Completely losing the beat, he paused, intending to listen to everyone else and regain his bearings. Instead, without him keeping tempo, the music ground to a slow and painful halt.

Paul shifted his bass guitar so he wouldn't hit Adrian with it as he turned, and stepped toward Bob. “Is something wrong? You've been having trouble keeping it together all night.”

“Nothing's wrong,” Bob muttered. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Adrian turned around to face him. “I hope it doesn't have anything to do with tomorrow. If you're not ready, I can do it another day.”

Bob shook his head. “It's not that. In fact, I'm not even going to be there. George has been doing a really good job. The bookkeeping is as ready as it's ever going to be.”

“You mean you won't be there? Where are you going to be?”

“I don't know yet.”

All of his friends turned and stared at him.

Randy left the sound board, walked right up to him, and stared him in the face, not breaking eye contact as he spoke. “You mean you're taking a day off? Midweek? And you don't have specific plans? Is everything okay?”

Bob cleared his throat. “Things have never been better. That's one of the reasons Bart and I hired George in the first place, so that we could work only five days like everybody else. Now that we're finally at that point, I have to admit I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself. What do you guys do when you have a day off?”

Adrian shrugged his shoulders. “I've never taken one off midweek. But if I did, I'd probably go to the library and get a new book to read. I'd practice learning something new on my guitar, too, probably.”

Randy grinned. “I'd go shopping.”

Bob turned to his best friend. “Are you nuts? You work at the mall. Don't you see enough of it during the week?”

“That's different. I don't get enough time to do real shopping. Maybe instead I'd go online and play games with whoever else is on at the time.”

Bob shook his head. “Computer games,” he muttered. “Don't you think you're getting a little old for that? You really are crazy. What about you, Celeste?”

“I'd probably do the same as Adrian. Read. Practice my piano for a while. Play some of my favorite songs. Work on some new ones. Stuff like that.”

“What about you, Paul?”

“I don't get days off one at a time. When the kids aren't in school, we have workshops and seminars to
keep current with what's going on. If I were to have a few days together, like in the summer, I would go somewhere I've never been. See the sights.”

Bob nodded. “Well, maybe I can come up with something. Let's finish up practicing these last couple of songs before it gets too late.”

 

“This is great, much better than I expected,” Adrian said to George. “Bob's transactions are usually so disorganized it takes me weeks to sort through them. You've got it all balanced, and it's reconciled, too.”

George smiled up at him. “Thanks. I've worked hard to get it to this point. I finally got them to give me a written record of every transaction, including what they buy online. It's much easier to enter everything and balance it when I can follow a paper trail.”

Adrian nodded. The last time he'd balanced Bob's books had been the worst. He hadn't been looking forward to it at all this time, but George had surprised him. “They really needed a professional bookkeeper. You've done a great job.”

“Thanks. I do my best.”

While George typed in the command to call up a journal of the payroll taxes that were due to be paid the next day, Adrian looked through the window into the shop, where Bart was working, all alone. “It's so strange to be here, and not see Bob.”

“I know. But it's been something we've all been striving for.”

“Yeah. Last night he was trying to think of what to do today. Do you have any idea what he decided?”

George shook her head, and hit the key to print the screen. “No. Last I talked to him, his only goal was to
sleep in. I made sure I was really quiet when I left this morning, so I wouldn't wake him.”

Adrian nearly dropped his pen onto the floor. “Wake him?” he sputtered.

“Yes. He's always gone before me. In fact, it's been kind of my cue to get up. He's like clockwork. I don't even need my alarm clock. I just get up and start getting ready when Bob starts his car. It was just so strange today, trying to be quiet because I knew he wanted to sleep in, particularly since I really need to fix my muffler.”

“Let's back up. What's going on?”

She sighed. “New things like the muffler keep coming up all the time—I just don't know where the money will come from. I know I need a new one, but Bob is teaching me how to prioritize my expenses. We figure if I let it warm up for only a minute, then the noise shouldn't annoy his neighbors too much. By the time the muffler blows completely, I should have saved enough money to fix it.” She turned and grinned at him. “Bob said I only have to pay the wholesale cost on the parts, and I can do the work myself in the shop after hours, which will save me a lot of money. I should be able to get it done in a couple of weeks.”

“I'm still not getting this. Annoy Bob's neighbors?”

“Yes. The muffler noise is annoying to any of the neighbors with windows open, or thin walls, for that matter.”

Adrian stared at George, at a loss for words. Last night everyone had noticed Bob's strange behavior. They had all assumed Bob was obsessing about taking time off, and Adrian had thought it quite amusing, as did the others. Everyone had had their little laugh, brushed it off and moved on.

Apparently, they'd been wrong. There had been more going on than any of them could ever have guessed.

George walked to the printer and pulled out the printed sheet. “It sure is different than what I'm used to, actually depending on an older vehicle for transportation, rather than just playing around and fixing it up as a hobby.”

Adrian raised his palms in the air. “You'll have to forgive my bluntness, but have you, uh…” Adrian stammered, trying to think of how to say what he wanted without sounding like he was making an accusation, when actually, he was.

He shook his head. “Forget it. I'll just come right out and ask. Have you moved in with him?”

George's face paled, which Adrian wasn't sure was a good sign. He didn't know her well enough to know if she was shocked by what he'd asked or by being caught.

“You mean he didn't tell everyone at practice last night?”

“Tell everyone what?”

George sighed. “I've been having some troubles with my family. I needed a place to stay, so Bob is letting me live in his garage apartment.”

“Garage apartment?” Adrian crossed his arms over his chest while he gathered his thoughts. “Oh, that's right. That's where his cousin stayed. Are you saying that you've moved into Bob's garage?”

Her cheeks darkened. “It's really quite a nice apartment. It's a little small, but the longer I'm there, the more I like it.”

Adrian narrowed one eye while he studied George. Randy had cornered him after Paul, Bob and Celeste
left. He had insisted that something was going on between Bob and his new mechanic. Adrian had brushed it off at the time, but it seemed as though, for once, one of Randy's crazy hunches was right. In hindsight, Bob really had been far too distracted to be thinking only about taking a simple day off work. If George had been having family problems, it was just like Bob to be concerned and try to figure out a solution.

George looked down to the floor. “Adrian, you've been friends with Bob for years, haven't you?”

He nodded. “Yes. We grew up together. All four of us have.”

“So you know him pretty well, then?”

“Yes, I like to think so.”

“He told me on Sunday he was going to tell everyone at practice that I had moved into his garage apartment. Yet now, I find out he didn't. Do you think he didn't say anything because he regrets letting me stay there?”

“No, I don't think so at all. Bob wouldn't have made such an offer if he didn't mean it. But he kept zoning out on us all night, and now I know why. Bob works best when he can focus on one thing at a time and he's obviously got a lot to think about. That's how he built that business from nothing. One step at a time. It's just the way Bob is. Bob doesn't multitask. Randy, now there's a man who multitasks.” Adrian shook his head.

“Pardon?”

He turned back to George. “None of us can figure out how Bob and Randy can be in the same room together sometimes. Randy can't function unless he's doing fifteen things at once. Bob grabs one thing at a time and worries at it like a dog with a bone, before moving on
to the next thing. Yet they've been inseparable since we were kids.”

“I don't think I know what you're trying to say.”

“I'm not sure I can explain it. Bob is a very linear thinker. He's got to have something all figured out before he can talk about it. So while something
is
bothering him, it's probably not exactly you living in his garage. It's more.” Adrian paused to think of Randy's suspicions. Randy had it figured out, but the more Adrian thought about it, the more he also thought that Bob hadn't figured it out yet.

Adrian bit back a grin. In the future, he'd have to give Randy more credit.

“Don't tell anyone I said this,
especially
not Bob, but I think he likes you. I'm not the only one who thinks that, either. He likes you so much it's distracting him.”

It was awhile before George finally spoke. “I don't think it's that. Bob is teaching me to cook, and he's helping me learn how to manage a budget and balance my checkbook. He's so good at showing me what to do, and how to do it. He's so patient, no matter how many mistakes I make.”

“Remember Bob is the youngest boy in his family, so he knows what it's like to be the underdog. At the same time, his sisters are all younger and he helped care for them when they were little. Bob's got the ultimate middle-child syndrome.”

George's eyes widened, but she didn't say anything.

The more Adrian thought about it, the more he could see why Bob was having difficulty making everything fit together. He would have to deal with George one way at work, and another way on their shared property.
Again, it would be a different set of rules when he was in her home, or when she was in his.

“Do you have any advice for me?”

“I'm afraid I don't. All I know is what it was like for me, before Celeste and I were engaged. There were things I wish I'd known sooner, but I guess it all worked out. I like to be prepared, but life doesn't always work that way.”

Georgette smiled. “See, there's some advice for me, after all.”