You've Got Game. Patricia Kay
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“Honestly, Lorna, sometimes I just want to choke you.”
Lorna grinned.
“That’s better. Now say you’ll go.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll go.”
“Good. I’ll let you know what time after I talk to John. Now, tell me, have you visited the plant yet?”
“No, but I thought I’d pop in tomorrow just to say hello and meet the office staff.”
“You’re starting work on Monday?”
“Yes.”
Lorna had been going to take a couple of weeks off, then had decided one was enough. Besides, she was anxious to get started on her new job.
Claudia stood. Lorna couldn’t help studying her belly, exposed by her low-riding pants and cropped top. So far, she didn’t look any different than she’d always looked, which was fantastic. She grinned at the glint of silver. “How long are you going to wear that navel ring?”
Claudia laughed. “John likes it, but I plan to take it out when I start to show.” She slung her handbag over her shoulder. “Walk out with me?”
Lorna stood on the front stoop and waved goodbye until Claudia’s Jeep disappeared around the corner. Then she slowly walked back inside. Her shoulders sagged. She was happy for Claudia, thrilled for Claudia. But a part of her ached with the knowledge that even her baby sister had passed her by. That it was only she, Lorna, who had failed at marriage and was still childless.
Would motherhood ever happen for her? she wondered forlornly. Or was she forever doomed to be just an aunt or a godmother to her siblings’ children?
For the rest of the day, she fought against a rising melancholy. Finally, knowing the only way to stop the negative emotions was to lose herself in something she loved, she headed for the piano. It hadn’t been tuned since the move—something she had planned to take care of immediately—but today she didn’t care.
Minutes later, she was deep into the lilting waterfall of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto no. 1 in F-sharp Minor and the rest of the world fell away.
Nick was on the plant floor supervising the installation of a new bagging machine when his secretary paged him. Telling Jim Hennessey, his maintenance manager, he’d be right back, Nick walked out to the distribution center where it wasn’t as noisy.
“Yeah?” he said when he had Karen on the phone.
“Miss Hathaway’s here,” she said.
“What? What the hell is she doing here?” he muttered. “She doesn’t start until Monday.”
Ignoring his irritated response, she chirped, “Would you like me to show her around? Or do you want to come up and do it yourself?”
Nick knew Lorna Hathaway was probably close enough to hear what Karen had to say. He swore under his breath. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“You go on, Nick,” Jim said when Nick rejoined him. “I can finish this up.”
Nick exhaled a frustrated breath. “Thanks.” He stripped off his work gloves and the hairnet everyone had to wear on the plant floor, then headed toward the metal stairs that led to the next level where all the offices were located.
When he reached his office he told himself not to show his irritation. To be polite and businesslike. But one look at the haughty ice queen wearing a dress that probably cost more than he made in a week and thumbing through the second quarter report, and all Nick’s good resolutions flew out the window. He didn’t know what it was about Lorna Hathaway that got under his skin so bad, but he couldn’t stand her. She was the epitome of the type of woman who had always looked down her nose at Nick and his brothers. The kind that knew he was from the wrong side of the tracks and thought he should have stayed there.
“You should have called first,” he said.
Her head snapped up. Something flashed in her eyes, but was gone in a second. “Nice to see you, too,” she said evenly.
He almost smiled. She might be a snob, but she wasn’t stupid. “Thing is, I’m a little busy today. The cooler was on the fritz for two hours earlier this morning, which backed everything up, so now we’re behind. Added to that, we’re installing a new outer-bagging machine, and that’s put us even more behind. So this is a real bad time. Maybe you and I could reschedule?”
“I’m sorry about the problems. However, I only dropped into your office as a courtesy,” she said, rising. “I actually came to meet my staff.”
He frowned. “Staff? You don’t have a staff.”
She stared at him. “But Nan had a secretary—her name was Stella, I believe—and I know there were at least two clerks the last time I was here. And the bookkeeper.”
Nan Mackey was their former business manager, the one Lorna was replacing.
“Stella quit when Nan left. She was pregnant. Stella, that is. And the two clerks were temps. We were in the middle of inventory the last time you were here. Phyllis, the bookkeeper, telecommutes, only coming in at the end of the month or for meetings.”
“I see. Well…have you done anything about replacing Stella?”
He shrugged. “No. I figured you’d rather hire your own secretary.” Someone you can count on to help sabotage me. “Not take someone I chose for you.”
She nodded. “Yes, you’re right, although I would have much preferred to have Stella, since she would have been a big help to me. I don’t suppose there’s anyone else here who might fill the bill?”
“Nope. Not that I know of.” He looked at Karen. “You know anyone who aspires to the office, Karen?”
She frowned in thought. “I could ask around. Maybe Rita?”
“I can’t spare Rita. She’s my best line-supervisor.”
“Yolanda?”
He shook his head. “Not Yolanda, either.”
Karen shrugged. “Well, they’re the only two I can think of.”
“Sorry,” he said to Lorna. “Maybe you’d like to bring someone over from the Morgan Hills plant.”
She just looked at him. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Hey, you’re one of the owners. You can do anything you want.” Whether it’s kosher or not.
For a moment, she didn’t answer. Then, coolly, she said, “Can we step into your office, please?”
“I only have a few minutes.” He walked over and opened the door, motioning her through. Then he closed it firmly behind him. “Have a seat.” After she was seated, he perched on the edge of his desk, knowing that height always gave an advantage. He waited. If she had something to say, let her say it.
“Look, Nick, can we call a truce?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean just what I said. Let’s agree that we don’t much like each other. That’s fine. I don’t need for everyone to like me. However, we do have to work together, so can we also agree to be civil and courteous to one another?”
“Sure.”
She seemed taken aback by his ready agreement. “Good. Then you’ll not be making any more remarks like the one you just made in front of your secretary, right?”
“What was uncivil or discourteous about that? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
Now she bristled, sitting up and tensing like a cat ready to strike. Her eyes, normally an icy blue, blazed. “No, it wasn’t the truth. When have I ever thrown my weight around?”
“Could it have been when you and