The Principal's Office (25 page)

Erin crossed her legs. “Yvonne wants to take eight weeks off when her daughter’s baby is born, to help out.”

“That sounds good,” Rachel said. Yvonne would be a grandmother in early July.

“I’d like you to train to take over her work while she’s gone.” Erin regarded her with a wary eye. “Are you interested?”

Rachel felt her heart climb up her throat. Erin was really asking if she was up to the task. Yvonne did inside sales. That meant she talked to customers and suppliers. She knew the distributors, the products, the parts, how everything fit together. She advised customers on what transducer went with which instrument, and on and on. If Rachel did Yvonne’s job, she’d have to know all that, too.

“I’m not sure, Erin. I don’t have any idea about that stuff.”

“I’m asking you now so that Yvonne can give you a few months of training.”

She swallowed.
Yes, but—
Rachel heard the thought in her head and was appalled. What a defeatist attitude.

“I’ll be here to answer any questions, too.” Erin uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, propping an elbow on her knee. “Rather than hire someone from outside, I’d like to give you the opportunity. Of course, we’ll pay you for any overtime.”

Overtime. She could use the money. But would that mean less time for the boys? More time for Sherry to try to take over?

Screw it. She was acting like a weenie. “I’ll give it a try.” She took a deep breath. “But as I learn more and become more valuable to the company beyond just being a receptionist—”

Erin put up a hand. “We’ll need to think about your salary and your position. I agree. Let’s get through the next three months and evaluate. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good. Why don’t you spend an hour with Yvonne today?”

“Sure.” She’d have to get her act in gear and stop daydreaming about Rand all the time.

Things were actually looking pretty darn good. She’d be gaining more skills and would probably get a raise when Yvonne returned, because Erin was a woman of her word. Nathan was helping special-needs kids. Having Sherry take the boys when she had class wasn’t
such
a bad thing. This new relationship of Gary’s might actually turn out to be a benefit.

And tonight, there was Rand and so many delicious possibilities.

“NO
,”
YVONNE SAID, HER VOICE RISING
.
“THAT’S NOT THE RIGHT
probe for that instrument.”

Rachel wanted to tell Yvonne exactly what she could do with that probe.

They’d been at it for an hour and a half in Yvonne’s office. The task: fill two distributor orders, which were for different instruments, extra transducers, et cetera, et cetera. The issue was that the order called for gauges of different types and
accessories
. Well, you had to figure out what the damned accessories were. Yvonne had been doing it so long, it was a no-brainer for her.

But she wasn’t exactly the best at imparting how Rachel was supposed to figure it out when she had no brain, so to speak.

“But you said,” Rachel started.

Yvonne cut her off. “You’re not
listening
to what I say.”

Rachel looked at her notes. She’d written it down correctly. Yvonne had simply changed what she’d said, at least Rachel thought she had. But she could be wrong, too.

Able to see directly into Bree’s office, she made a face when Yvonne wasn’t looking. Bree smiled and shook her head.

Yvonne was a sweet person. She cared about everyone. She was born to be a mother, and she mothered them all just the way she mothered her own daughter. Somewhere in her midfifties, she was a tall, dark-skinned woman who, as much as she mothered, could also be exacting. Right now, Rachel wasn’t measuring up.

“Is there a product manual I could read for the different gauges?” Rachel asked. She knew there was. In fact, the manual was one of the
accessories
.

“You’d never understand those manuals. They’re for the people who use the product and they wouldn’t mean a thing.”

“But the manual should list all the components.”

Yvonne snorted, her skin creasing around her lips. “You can’t read a manual every time you have to fill an order. You’d never get anything done.”

“I just meant as a reference.”

Yvonne stabbed a finger at the screen. “It’s all right there. The part number tells you everything you need to know.”

They were going in circles. Either Yvonne wasn’t a good teacher or Rachel wasn’t a good student. For the life of her, she couldn’t find in her notes where Yvonne had explained how the part number told her anything. Rachel learned best by doing things herself, but Yvonne did the entry for an entire order, then pushed the keyboard over and said, “You try the next one.”

Rachel realized her notes didn’t make enough sense.

Bree crossed the roundhouse, heading outside. A little while later, she returned. By that time, Yvonne’s voice had given Rachel an extra-strength headache.

Yvonne stomped over to retrieve a folder from one of her filing cabinets and Bree, back in her office, pointed to a bag on her desk, flapped her hand back and forth between Rachel and herself, then touched her fingers to her lips.

The sign language could have meant Rachel should shut up. Then again, it could mean food.

“Let’s break for lunch. I’m getting a hunger headache.”

“Okay,” Yvonne answered, her face practically buried in the filing cabinet as if she couldn’t quite read whatever she was looking at.

Bree made some more hand signals that Rachel interpreted as
Let’s eat outside at the picnic table where it’s sunny. I can see you’re ready to murder Yvonne.

Which would be exactly right. Yvonne was a dead woman if Rachel didn’t get a handle on herself.

RACHEL SLUMPED DOWN ON THE SEAT. CURRENTLY UNOCCUPIED
, the picnic bench was on a knoll a few steps from the parking lot. A haven for smokers, it was far enough away from the building entrances to be within legal limits. The sun warm on her head, she could go to sleep right here. Yvonne had tired her out.

“I’m not a good student,” she confessed to Bree. “How am I going to make it through a computer class if I can’t make it through Yvonne?”

Bree opened the bag. “I got you ham and cheese.” She fished out a wrapped sandwich.

“Thanks.” Bree was as thrifty as Rachel and usually brown-bagged it. But today, Bree had been reading her mind. Rachel needed something extra. She opened her purse, dug around in the pocket for a five-dollar bill.

Bree waved her off. “It’s my treat.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” She smiled. Bree was so pretty when she smiled, but
she lacked the laugh lines that would indicate she did it often. “You can do the same when you see someone driving me crazy.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, then sagged. “She just goes so fast, I can’t follow what she says.” She unwrapped her sandwich, and really, after three bites, she did feel better. Maybe it was only a hunger headache. “It’s all the accessories.”

“Look at the bill of material. There are upper level part numbers that include all the accessories. You drill down from the top. The problem on orders and invoicing is that customers don’t always need all the accessories and sometimes they want to switch something out. But learning how to use the bill of material is a start.”

“How do you know all that?”

Bree shrugged, minimizing her knowledge. “I have to know how the bills of material work in order to do the standard costs. And I’ve worked with the invoices, too.”

Rachel grimaced. “I’m never going to pick it up.” Matching invoices hadn’t prepared her for inside sales; neither had entering Erin’s purchase orders.

Bree ate her egg salad delicately, like a bird. “If I can figure it out, you can.”

Rachel realized she was sounding defeatist again. She couldn’t let Yvonne’s attitude beat her down, but most of all, she wouldn’t do it to herself. “You’re right. I have to manage Yvonne better, make her slow down.”

Bree put on her sunglasses against the bright day. “Yvonne’s threatened by your learning her job.”

“But she wants the time off to help out her daughter when the baby comes.”

“She thought Erin would get a temp. A temp is less threatening.”

“I’m not going to try to take her job.”

“I know that and you know that, but Yvonne’s very territorial.”

Bree was being unusually talkative, Rachel noticed, just as
she’d been the night they went out for drinks. In fact, she talked a lot more in general these days. Well, more for Bree, at any rate. After confronting Marbury, she’d changed, as if that one incident had been a threshold for her. Then there was her success with the IRS audit—DKG was going to get a refund—which had further boosted her confidence.

Rachel told herself she could do the same thing, boost her own confidence. “The best thing I can do is reassure her in a very diplomatic and nonthreatening way that I’m not after her job.”

“Excellent.” Bree pulled the crust off the rest of her sandwich. “So, I’ve been waiting more than a month to hear about your man. I can’t stand the suspense anymore.”

Behind the sunglasses, Rachel couldn’t tell whether Bree was concentrating on the egg salad or looking at her. Yeah, she was definitely different. Before, Bree never would have asked. She also wouldn’t have used that sarcastic drawl. Rachel liked the new Bree.

“He’s taking me away for the weekend, and he won’t tell me where. It’s a surprise.” It felt good to confide about Rand.

“A dictatorial man.” Bree raised a brow above the rim of her glasses.

“Not exactly.” But it gave Rachel cause to think. “Well, maybe a bit. He wants what he wants.”

“When he wants it,” Bree finished for her.

“I like that, though.” She wondered if she should tell Bree he was her son’s principal.

Bree smiled. “I enjoy an authoritative man, too.”

She waited to hear more about Bree’s boyfriend, but that’s all she said. So Rachel went on with her confession. “He told me not to bring any clothes, that he’d provide everything.”

“Kinda scary, huh?”

Bree actually understood her. The clothes thing made Rachel the most nervous. “If he makes me wear short-shorts so my butt
hangs out, or he gets it wrong on my size”—Rachel narrowed her eyes—“I’m not stepping out of the room.” Men didn’t seem to have a concept of what made a woman feel fat or unattractive.

“Then he’ll just have to take you shopping once you’re there.”

Rachel nodded. “That would be a bonus.” She wouldn’t feel bad making him buy clothes for her if he stranded her with nothing to wear.

Bree wrapped up the unfinished half of her sandwich. She’d probably save it for tomorrow. No wonder she was rail thin. After stowing it in the bag, she leaned her elbows on the picnic table. “Being dictatorial is a two-way street.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should take a surprise for him.”

“Like what?”

“Ropes.”

Rachel just gaped at her.

“Tie him up. Do bad things to him.”

Really, Bree never ceased to amaze her. First there was the condom in her purse, now a little bondage. “That’s interesting.”

Bree smiled again, a cat-that-ate-the-cream smile. Good Lord, just what had Bree been up to?

Hmm, tying Rand up. Yeah. That could be really interesting. He’d told her not to bring any clothes. He didn’t say she couldn’t bring some rope.

“WE’RE GOING TO LAS VEGAS?”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Rand quipped.

Lord. She was in trouble now. Saturday morning had come in a flash, and really, she was god-awful nervous. She’d be spending more than twenty-four hours with him, sleeping with him, using the bathroom with him. It was terrifying to contemplate.

San José Airport was packed, queues of people going off in all
directions, outside the Starbucks, clustered around each gate. If it was like this on a weekend, she hated to think about a weekday with all the business travelers. The security line had been hellacious, but at least they didn’t have to check in; Rand had gotten their boarding passes online. She had a small carry-on with underwear and toiletries. The three-ounce bottle limit was a pain in the butt, and it was strange flying off with little more than a change of underwear. Oh, and the scarves. She hadn’t had time to buy rope, but she’d been into scarves in the nineties, accenting every outfit with color. It was cheaper than jewelry. She hadn’t worn them in years, but they would be perfect as a rope substitute.

Rand had a larger bag, which presumably held clothing for her as well. He’d taken her license and handed it to the security officer along with their boarding passes, so the first hint of their destination was when she’d read the flight information on the board outside their gate.

“So we’re going gambling,” she said. That would be the least terrifying possibility. She remembered his penchant for exhibitionism.

“Maybe a roll of quarters,” he said as the boarding line inched forward.

“Cheapskate,” she groused. “A show, then?”

He flashed her a smile. The best way to characterize it would be a shit-eating grin, but she was a lady and didn’t use that kind of language. Except when she was having sex with Rand.

“Yes, a show,” he said.

Good Lord. “Please don’t tell me I’m going to be the show,” she hissed at him in an undertone.

He grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry, you’re going to love everything I’ve planned.”

Right. She’d hardly slept last night, her body humming with excitement and nerves. Rand wouldn’t tell her a thing about the trip, but the week’s evenings had been filled with one sexual
escapade after another. He’d done her on his deck. Unfortunately the neighbor couple hadn’t come out to bear witness, though without the lights on, it would have been hard to tell that she wasn’t merely sitting in Rand’s lap. She actually invited him over for dinner, and during dishwashing, he’d lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties, and had his wicked way with her right there in the kitchen. They’d had sex in every room of the house, except the boys’ rooms, of course. Rand wanted to create dirty memories that would come back to her no matter what she was doing. She would never eat at the kitchen table again without thinking of what he’d done to her on it.