Ivan left his store with a smile in his heart. Delia was indeed an attractive woman. She was the first woman who had impacted him since Melanie. He was certain that he would be needing more new clothes within the next few weeks. Meanwhile, he had business to attend to.
Stopping by his grandparents’ place, he talked to his granddad about the business trip he would embark upon the following day.
“I’m going to take a run over to California and just check in on the Peters and Son stores in LA and Frisco,” he told the older man. “It’s been a year or so since I’ve been over there. The records all look great, but I like to drop in and have a look now and then, too.”
“Good idea, son,” Alex Peters said to his grandson.
He was proud of this young man. Adrian and Evvie had done a wonderful job of raising him. How tragic that they were cut down in the prime of their lives! And Cecelia was just fourteen years of age.
“It’s lunch time,” Irena pointed out. “Would you stay and eat with us? I’ve made borscht and just took some homemade bread out of the oven.”
Even if Ivan hadn’t been hungry, he wouldn’t have turned down his grandma’s borscht and fresh bread. All the fancy restaurants in the world couldn’t compete with Irena Peters’ cooking.
“Of course I’ll stay,” Ivan said with a grin. “Have you ever known me to turn down your borscht?”
His grandma just grinned happily and hustled into the kitchen to ladle three soup bowls full of the delicious soup. She sliced thick slices of bread and piled the slices on a plate. Then she set the food onto the kitchen table along with butter and some homemade apple butter that she had made just before leaving Oregon.
“Come on, you two, before it gets cold,” she urged the two men.
They were eager to comply and soon the three of them were enjoying the meal together just as they had done so many times in the past.
That afternoon when he got home, Ivan called his crew together and told them that he’d be gone on a business trip for a week to ten days. They were accustomed to the routine, so it was no big deal. With Ivan gone, there wouldn’t be the regular work for the three women, so they could turn their attention to other projects.
Lynne Potter, the main cook, wanted to get a head start on the Thanksgiving dinner by baking and freezing several pies. She also needed to clean out some of the old plants in the garden that were dying and put in some new tomato plants that she intended to go buy.
Betsy Randall and Sue Madden, the two housekeepers planned to help each other wash windows and shampoo the carpets while Ivan was gone. The three men had been instructed to give the barn a fresh coat of paint, so that would keep them occupied for several days. It was time to drain the swimming pools and clean the cement really good, and then refill them.
The three couples had been with Ivan long enough to know what he expected of them and what to do when he was gone. They were absolutely dependable, all of them, and Ivan was thankful every day that he had been able to find such wonderful employees. They had become almost like family to him. The formality that he showed them during work hours fell away during the evenings and on holidays when they socialized together.
Ivan was on the road by five o’clock the next morning, headed for LA. He chose to drive his 1955 Buick Roadmaster because of its smooth ride. He’d found it abandoned in an underground parking garage of a large building that he’d purchased in Nashville, Tennessee, several years ago. When he traced the registration, he learned that the owner had been dead for ten years, so he claimed rights to it and changed the title into his name.
It was still in pretty good shape, but he took it to a restoration shop and had them do a frame-up restoration on it. It was a 2-door hardtop, and he had it painted its original red with a black roof. It looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line and was his favorite car to take on long drives.
It took him the better part of three long days to covertly inspect the ten Peters and Son stores that were scattered throughout the Los Angeles metro area. He made a point of looking as ordinary and inconspicuous as possible, dressing in plain jeans and shirts that were obviously not from his stores. Basically, he just walked through each store, noting the cleanliness of the floors, the neatness of the merchandise, and the friendliness and professionalism of the employees. He bought some small item in each store to evaluate the checkout procedure and efficiency.
When he was finished with the LA area, he took the coastal route up to San Francisco to check out the eight stores that were in that area. Driving straight through, one can make the drive in roughly seven and one half to eight hours, minding the speed limit and stopping for a meal or two. Ivan took two days just because he could and because he wanted to spend some time on the beach.
As he walked along the water’s edge on a sandy beach, his mind drifted back to his Scottsdale store and Delia. He had the unaccustomed thought that he wished she were there with him. He hadn’t had those kinds of thoughts about a woman in years. He tried to dismiss them, but the image of her lovely face kept dancing before his mind’s eye. A bit frustrated, he determined that when he got home, he would need a new shirt or something, and this time, he would ask her out.
He spent two long days in San Francisco inspecting the stores in that area. Since his decision had been made to pursue Delia, he was anxious to get home. So he spent less time in those stores than he normally did so he could hurry home. Upon leaving Frisco, he headed for home just as fast as he could get there and not get a speeding ticket. It was a long, long day, but he made it home by ten o’clock that night.
The next morning he was up at his usual hour of five o’clock. After grooming and dressing, he went out to the barn to saddle up Apache and go for a ride. After driving around in LA and Frisco for several days, he was more than ready for the peaceful quiet of the hills around his home. Ned Potter was already in the barn feeding the ten horses.
“Have you heard the awful news yet?” Ned asked Ivan.
“What news?” Ivan inquired.
“Jeanne Lindahl was killed in a car wreck on her way home yesterday afternoon,” Ned told him sadly.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Ivan. “Oh, how awful. Her poor husband and family. I’ll go see them later this morning, and see if there’s anything I can do. That’s terrible. I just messaged with her yesterday when I sent my reports for her to enter into the system here. I feel just terrible.”
“All of us do, sir,” Ned told him. “She was a great lady.”
“That she was,” Ivan agreed. “I’ll be hard pressed to replace her.”
While riding in the cool, dark morning air, Ivan could think of nothing else but this tragic accident that had taken the life of his long-time secretary. Well, if you consider six years a long time. That was the length of time that Ivan had lived on his spread in Arizona and the length of time that Jeanne Lindahl had worked for him.
While he was fretting about how he would replace such an efficient, pleasant, faithful secretary, Delia’s face appeared in his mind. He remembered reading her resumé and job application from her personnel file. She would be perfect. That is, if he could woo her away from the store.
On the other hand, would he be shooting himself in the foot by pulling her out of the store? Statistics showed that revenue in that store had increased every year since she went to work there, particularly in the men’s wear department. What if he hired her to work part time as his secretary and part time at the store? Could he get the store’s manager to agree to that arrangement?
What a dilemma he had on his hands. He went over her resumé in his mind. She’d had two years of business courses at the U. Not enough for a degree in business, but combined with her two years of general studies, she’d earned an AA. It wasn’t just the book learning that made her successful at her job. She had an innate ability to sway people—to persuade them to buy and then thank her for the privilege, so to speak.
His mind wandered off into the future, visualizing Delia traveling with him on his business trips, becoming not only his wife, but also his business partner. He was sure that she had the knack for business and would be the perfect match for him. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice that Apache had begun to limp. But when the stallion stopped and whimpered, Ivan came back to reality and dismounted to see what was wrong.
Apache was holding his left front leg up just enough to take the weight off of it. Ivan picked up the horse’s foot and, with the aid of a flashlight, examined it for pebbles and thorns. Sure enough, there was a wicked-looking cactus thorn stuck in the frog of his hoof. Reaching up into his ever-present saddlebag, Ivan pulled out a pair of pliers and pulled out the thorn. Then he rubbed on some soothing ointment that he carried for just such occasions.
He let Apache rest for a few minutes while he walked around pondering his situation. The eastern sky was lightening, heralding the coming sunrise. He wished he knew what the best thing to do was. He considered consulting with his grandfather, but felt that he’d like to make this decision on his own. He knew that his judgment was skewed in favor of hiring Delia to be his secretary. That way he could see her nearly every day. But would the store suffer because of his unfamiliar desire.
Maybe he’d pay her a visit today, take her out for lunch, if she’d go with him, and feel her out on the scenario. See if she’d even be interested in leaving the store in favor of working for him. He knew he could offer her a better financial package than what she was getting at the store. He might even consider offering her the guest house as part of her benefits package.
Mounting Apache again, he clucked to him to start moving, and then turned the horse’s head back towards the compound. Mrs. Potter had breakfast awaiting him when he walked into the kitchen after leaving Apache in Mr. Potter’s capable hands. She, too, was full of the sad news about Jeanne Lindahl.
As Ivan ate his waffle and fried eggs, he formulated the spiel he would give to Delia later that day. He’d offer her the cottage, two grand a month, and add her to his employee insurance policy that was very comprehensive, two weeks’ paid vacation to start, and use of the horses and tennis court. It wasn’t as much as the others were getting, but they’d been with him for six years. She was just starting.
Ivan put on a pair of the jeans he’d bought from Delia and a crisply ironed maroon shirt. He added a bolo tie that had a fine piece of turquoise set in an arrowhead-shaped silver setting. Pulling on a pair of Tony Lama boots, he then stood in front of the mirror to see the effect. Oh, yeah, his belt. He threaded a black, tooled leather belt through the loops on the jeans and fastened the silver and turquoise buckle. There. Now he was ready. If his cowboy look wouldn’t sway Delia in his favor, he didn’t know what would.
Before driving straight to the store, Ivan went over to the Lindahl house to offer his deep sympathy and services. An obviously grief-stricken husband answered his knock and invited him in.
“I’m so sorry, Robert,” Ivan said as he walked through the door. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Thanks, Ivan,” Robert Lindahl replied. “I can’t believe it either. She was only a mile from home. Just one mile. One more mile and she’d have been safe at home.”
Robert sank into an easy chair and put his head in his hands. Ivan stood awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Bobby and Carley, the two Lindahl teenagers, came into the living room to see who was there.
“Hi, kids,” Ivan said. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks, Mr. Peters,” Bobby mumbled.
Carley just nodded, too teary to speak.
“What do you guys need that I can do for you?” Ivan asked when Robert had composed himself.
“I don’t know right now,” Robert said numbly. “I just don’t know. I don’t even know how to put one foot in front of the other right now.”
“I sort of understand,” Ivan said. “I didn’t know straight up when my family was killed. I know it’s different for everyone, and losing a wife is different than losing parents and a sibling. But I do understand that mind-numbing grief.”
“Thanks. I guess you do understand,” Robert said.
“Listen, you know how to get ahold of me,” Ivan said. “Call me if you find you need anything I can help with. I can send over my housekeeper or my groundskeeper if you need your grass mowed, or just anything. I can have Mrs. Potter cook up some food and bring it over. Anything that pops into your mind that you need, you call me. And if I don’t hear from you in a day or two, I’ll check in again with you.”
“I really appreciate it,” Robert said, rising to shake Ivan’s hand. “Jeanne really loved working for you. She said you were the greatest boss she’d ever had.”
“She was definitely a great secretary,” Ivan said. “I’m going to have a hard time replacing her with someone as good. She was the only secretary I’ve ever had, so I can certainly say that she was the best one.”
That brought a faint smile to Robert’s lips.
“I’ll check her office at my house and bring back her personal things. I didn’t think about it this morning, or I’d have brought them with me,” Ivan told him.
“No rush,” Robert said. “But thanks.”
Ivan took his leave and then drove to the mall where Peters and Son Department Store was located. It was only ten-fifteen in the morning, too early for Delia to take lunch. So he tried to amuse himself walking through the mall looking in other store windows. When he came to a card shop, he went inside and searched until he found a nice sympathy card to send to the Lindahl family. He made a mental note to also have some flowers sent to the house, and later some to the funeral, when that was scheduled.
Then he found a bench, sat down, and called home. Lynne Potter answered the phone.
“Hi, Mrs. Potter,” Ivan said. “Listen, would you please make up a nice cake or something and run it over to the Lindahls’ house for me?”
“I sure will,” Lynne said. “How is that poor family?”
“Devastated, for sure,” Ivan answered. “They just appeared numb. I remember the feeling.”
“I’m sure you do. I’ll get right on it. I think I’ll do my pineapple dump cake. Everyone seems to like that one.”
“Good choice. I sure like it. While you’re at it, make two.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks. See you later.”
By eleven o’clock, he could wait no longer, and headed for his own store. He’d do a walk-through, starting on the ground level in housewares, and then work his way up to the second floor where the men’s wear section was. When he got close to the men’s department, Ivan began scanning the area looking for Delia. He began to get nervous when he couldn’t spot her right off. But when he rounded a long rack of men’s suits, there she was, bent over retrieving more stock from a cupboard underneath a display unit.
He stood back and watched as she deftly arranged a stack of men’s long-sleeved turtleneck shirts. Sometimes he wondered why they even carried winter clothing in this store, since it rarely got cold enough to wear it. But he was aware that people from the colder northern towns came down to the valley to shop. And of course, there were the snow-birders, too, who bought things to take home with them in the spring.
When Delia finished with what she was doing, she turned and saw Ivan standing there watching her. She smiled a little self-consciously and then greeted him cheerfully.
“May I interest you in a nice turtleneck?” she asked half-teasingly.
“No, thanks,” he replied. “It never gets cold enough here for me to want to wear one. But I am looking for a couple of ordinary short-sleeved Henley shirts.”
“Right this way.”