Jack had opened his first lumberyard with his grandfather’s advice and financial assistance, but lumberyards two, three, and four he’d done on his own, and he was still looking into other possibilities for expansion.
He remembered what his grandfather had told him: “Location is everything.” So Jack went in search of new housing developments in the growing city of Buffalo. He’d chosen wisely. Lumberyard number four was still floundering in its infancy, but he had no doubt it would soon stand on its own.
It had been Maura who suggested he add a line of hardware.
“After all, Uncle Jack, if people come in to buy lumber, they’ll also need nails and other things, including tools.”
Jack was never one to discount a good idea, and after giving it a great deal of thought, he added another building with a complete line of hardware to Lumberyard One. When that turned out to be successful, he did the same with his other three yards.
Maura hadn’t counted on the workload that was dumped on the accounting department. As a result, inventory was more than quadrupled, there were dozens more order forms to be filled out, and contractors’ invoices became a nightmare of itemization.
After Michael’s visit, she threw herself into the task of revamping her office: the entire bookkeeping and filing systems. This took all her energy—sometimes twelve–hour days. At night, exhausted, she’d eat dinner and fall into bed. There was little time to dwell on missing Michael, but she did manage to find time to get a letter off to him and to Patsy at least twice a week, and Aunt Gert and Grandma Mahoney about once a month. She cut her Saturday hours to noon, however, so she could relax a little over the weekend.
There were offers to go out, which for the most part she turned down, but occasionally she would accept a date to a dinner dance at the club or to a movie with male friends her own age. But she wasn’t much interested in keeping up with the latest trends of her peers, and for the most part, she found that these young men fell short of her Michael.
Early that December, Maura started to look forward to Christmas and seeing Patsy again. Some of her latest letters had hinted at a very special person in her life. She couldn’t wait to hear all about it.
When Patsy came home for the holidays, everyone was quite taken with her new look. The long, curly hair was now bobbed, and she wore a bit of makeup. Martha was quite impressed that her daughter had taken such an interest in style, but Jack hated seeing his baby girl growing up.
When the two of them were in Maura’s room, lying across her bed, Patsy confided that she was in love.
“I met this fella at a Halloween dance this fall. This wasn’t a school dance—you know, the kind with the chaperones all over the place. This was a charity affair, costumes and all, held at the Hilton Hotel. My friend Alma got permission to go because her mother was one of the ladies from the guild that was sponsoring it. So she asked me to go with her. Anyway, this skeleton asked me to dance—I was a witch—and we spent the rest of the night dancing and laughing. He said he’d call me, and he did. It all just went from there.”
Her face glowed when she talked about him. Patsy had always been comfortable around the opposite sex and had had lots of beaus before this one—never any Maura had known her to take seriously, but obviously this one was different.
“What’s his name? Where’s he from? What does he plan to do when he graduates?”
“His name is Paul. Paul Johnston. He’s in his final year at Case University. Studying to be an engineer. He comes from a small town in Illinois, somewhere north of Chicago. Evanston, I think it’s called. His folks are quite wealthy. Mr. Johnston graduated from Case and wanted Paul to keep up the tradition. Oh, he’s so handsome, Maura! And so smart. He’s already had an offer with an engineering firm in Chicago for after he graduates. And guess what?” she said, almost in a whisper. “He’s asked me to marry him before he goes there. Says he can’t live without me.”
“Uh oh, this is serious. But you have to finish school, Patsy. You know how your mom and dad feel about that.”
“Well, we’ll see. But in the meantime, keep this to yourself, will you?”
Her secret was safe, and everyone had a wonderful holiday. There were gifts galore.
Maura finished up her restructuring job at Store One about the time Patsy returned to school. Then Jack asked her if she would do the same for the other three stores.
“Of course I will, Uncle Jack. But first, I’ll have to train someone to do my job here.”
“Fine. Whatever it takes, because I feel it’s imperative that all the stores maintain the same kind of system. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the splendid job you’ve done here.”
Jack’s plan was to bring in the head bookkeeper, Matt Gorsky, from Store Two in the Plymouth suburb, and Maura’s assistant could take his place. That way she could train him. She was to do the same with bookkeepers from Stores Three and Four, her assistant going wherever needed. After reaching her goal, they would go back to their respective offices.
“Great idea,” Maura said, but she wasn’t prepared for Matt Gorsky.
When he sauntered into the office wearing a raccoon coat, pork pie hat, and big grin, her heart gave a leap. He had dimples just like Michael’s and was about the same build. It wasn’t his looks, exactly: light brown hair, more on the wavy side, a nice face, and perhaps a year or two older. But with his mannerisms, it was as if Michael had entered the room.
They hit it off from the beginning, but she wondered if this Matt person would take her seriously because of her age. She’d run up against this problem with some of the older help in her office, until they realized she was a hard one to keep up with and knew exactly what she was doing. She found Matt to be quick and attentive. He would master the job within the next two weeks.
At the end of week one, Matt asked her to go to dinner and a movie on Saturday evening. She accepted. She hadn’t been this excited since Michael’s visit the previous August.
Snow was always a part of a Buffalo winter, but there had been only one storm of any consequence so far, and fortunately it hadn’t interfered with the Christmas holidays. But another showed up that Saturday afternoon.
Matt called. “Sorry, but there’s no way I can make it through this pileup. I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to our date. Shall we try again for next Saturday?”
“I understand. Next Saturday will be fine.”
She didn’t tell him how disappointed she was. Now all she could do was look forward to seeing him on Monday.
The following week, they continued their tedious task of taking inventory, noting what was needed and what was being overstocked, discarding dead files and transferring items into three separate ledgers—lumber, hardware, and tools—making it much easier to keep track of stock.
It was a very busy week, and Maura noted how well they worked together as a team. They ate lunch at a table in the office every day, sharing thoughts and ideas.
Matt was shocked to find out she was only seventeen. “I thought you were much closer to my age.” He was twenty–four.
At day’s end, they lingered just a bit longer than necessary. Until then, Maura hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been.
Matt showed up promptly at six the following Saturday, greeted by Sadie and Tina at the door. He gave Tina his best grin and stooped to scratch Sadie behind the ear.
“I’m here to pick up Maura,” he said, stepping into the foyer, removing his hat, and stamping his feet.
“Come in, sir, and may I take your coat?”
“No, thanks. My feet are covered with snow. I’ll just wait here.”
Tina went to Maura’s room. “Your young man is here, miss.”
Matt watched as Maura followed Tina down the steps. She was wearing a short, black wool dress and black suede heels, with crystal earrings and necklace. Her silky hair was tied in a French knot. From the first time he’d seen her, he’d thought she was a good–looker, but coming down the steps, she looked absolutely regal.
She also noticed Matt. No raccoon coat tonight.
Hmm, she thought, a black Chesterfield topcoat. How distinguished.
“Hi, Matt. My, don’t you look nice.”
He helped her on with her coat, a gray Persian lamb. “You look stunning,” he said. “What a beautiful coat.”
‘Why, thank you. Uncle Jack and Aunt Martha gave it to me for Christmas. I just love it.”
Matt had chosen The Cloisters for dinner and dancing. He knew it was quite expensive, would probably cost him a week’s salary, but it would be worth it. He figured Maura would expect something like this, being the niece of the owner and used to the better things in life.
That’s what he wanted—the better things. He didn’t intend to live on a bookkeeper’s salary forever. His girlfriend, Loretta, didn’t seem to mind, though. As long as she could make him happy—and she did a good job of that—she didn’t seem to need much more. Loretta didn’t have Maura’s style and class, but she was desirable and so obliging. There was a lot to be said for a well–rounded, sumptuous body, so unlike Maura’s tall, slender one—almost boyish. Not that he didn’t like Maura. She was attractive, bright, and stimulating, mentally challenging him in all directions. Loretta hung on his every word. It had already been two weeks, and he was really missing her.
Even though Store Two was only twenty miles away, Mr. Mahoney had suggested Matt take a room close to Store One.
“At the company’s expense, of course,” he’d said matter–of–factly. “You’ll be here for about three months, and with our unpredictable weather, I think it best you be close by. But I see no reason why you can’t go home on weekends if the weather permits.”
Matt would be leaving on Monday to take over his office. He hoped his clerk hadn’t botched things up too badly in his absence. If he played his cards right, he could probably keep seeing Maura and keep Loretta, too.
His plan was to become manager of one of the stores, learn all there was to know about the business, and start a lumberyard of his own, probably somewhere around Erie, Pennsylvania. It didn’t hurt to have an edge on that plan, and Maura was it.
Dinner was perfection, the music was heavenly, and Maura floated through the evening, dancing in the arms of a very desirable man. She felt warm and excited, and for the first time in many, many months did not think of Michael.
Matt saw her to the door, pressed her hand in his, and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s been a grand evening. I hope we can see each other again,” he said, looking intently into her eyes.
“Oh, I certainly hope so,” she sighed. “Thank you so much for a wonderful time.” She squeezed his hand. “Good night, Matt.”
After a week, Claude Kimmel was called in from Store Three with an attitude that announced itself the moment she shook his hand. Maura’s reputation as a whiz with figures had preceded her, but he didn’t care. No upstart was about to tell him how to do things. He had eighteen years of experience as a bookkeeper and was a crackerjack at what he did. Sure, he’d go along with the new system if he had to, but he felt the one he’d implemented in his store was probably every bit as good. He’d tried to tell Mr. Mahoney that, but to no avail. That rebuff hadn’t sat well. But why two weeks of this, when he’d probably catch on in two days?
Maura ignored his contemptuous attitude as she set about explaining what had to be done. Soon they were in the thralls of doing inventory and transferring figures from the main ledger into the three others. He soon realized that it wasn’t just the system he needed to learn, but the tedious work involved in changing it.
Matt called her several times, and on two occasions, he took her to the movies.
Although she still wrote to Michael, her memories of him seemed to be fading. He still had almost two and a half years before she could ever think of really spending time with him again. Right now, she looked forward to her phone calls and dates with Matt.
The last time they’d gone to the movies, he’d walked her to the door and kissed her passionately before she went inside. That memory was still fresh and new—and erotic. She thought of him often.
By the end of their two weeks together, Claude had actually become amicable. They shook hands and parted as friends.
Onward to Store Four.
Alice Whorrl was the next bookkeeper to learn the new system. In her mid–thirties, she was quite attractive, yet still unmarried. During one of their many conversations, she’d explained that she had to take care of her sick mother when she went home from work and had little time for a personal life, but there was a Mr. Foible whom she saw from time to time. He, too, had a mother who depended on him. Both mothers were quite demanding.
Maura and Alice got along famously. On March 27, Maura’s mission was complete.
Although the end of March did not guarantee the absence of another snowstorm, today the snow was actually melting away. The roads were wet but clear. It was a very nice winter’s day, sunny and calm, one of the few winter days on which the sky was actually blue—such a relief from the gray skies that constantly threatened. Maura felt free and giddy, relieved that a great burden had finally been lifted.
It was Saturday, and she decided to take a drive and visit Matt. He still called her frequently. The last time she’d seen him, they’d gone to the country club for dinner and dancing. He was a wonderful dancer. Martha and Jack highly approved of him and were happy to see her so happy.
At the end of the evening, he’d walked her to the door and kissed her more than once. Her feelings of arousal were quite strong, and she returned his kisses with passion.
“I care for you a great deal,” Matt whispered in her ear. “I wish you didn’t have to go in. It’s early yet. We could go back to my place for a while.”
Maura could have spent the night in his arms, but she was cautious and kept her emotions in check. “I’d love to, but that’s too far. It’s late, and I’m really tired. Perhaps another time.”
They’d talked many times on the phone since, but the weather also made a statement.
Driving down the highway, she remembered that evening and thought, Perhaps I should have called him first. Oh, what the heck, it’s early. Matt should be home now. I haven’t seen him for weeks, and I have all day. Perhaps we can have lunch together.
She drove her little coupe up DeSoto Avenue, looking for his apartment building.
There it was—59.
She ran her finger down the six mailboxes in the hall to the one with the name Matt Gorsky typed neatly on the front. 2A.
She rapped softly on the door. No answer. She rapped again.
A young girl with very curly brown hair answered in her robe and slippers. “Yes?” she said as she yawned.
“Oh, sorry to disturb you. I must have the wrong apartment. I’m looking for a Matt Gorsky.”
“No, you have the right apartment. What did you—”
“Maura?”
Maura was dumbfounded. She saw Matt across the room, standing in his robe in the doorway of what she supposed was the bedroom.
For a few seconds, she stood there with her mouth open, then turned and ran down the steps. Matt called down to her from his apartment door, but she kept on going. She got the picture.
By the time she’d gotten her car started, Matt had managed to throw some pants and a shirt on and get to the street. He yelled, waving his arms for her to stop, running after her in his bare feet, trying to jump on the running board. She looked through her rear view mirror and saw him finally give up, wearing a look of despair, shoulders slumped and arms at his side.
She kept on driving. How could she have been taken in like that? She wasn’t sure whether it was her pride that was wounded or the fact that she cared so much for a person who had turned out to be someone she really didn’t know, someone who had been lying to her from the very beginning.
Her body heaved with sobs, tears blinding her as she tried to drive. She pulled to the side of the road to let it all out.
With each memory of their relationship, she’d start sobbing anew. The first time they’d met, their first dinner date, working together, phone conversations, his touch, his kisses—all of it. She was such a blind fool.
An hour passed. Bankrupt of tears, she began her journey home. Anger started to seethe and boil, overtaking her with thoughts of bitter revenge. He was a sneaky, good–for–nothing liar. She’d fix him. She’d have him fired.
As she was passing a field of sheep, her car began to shimmy. Pulling over to the side of the road, she knew what she would find when she walked around to the right side of the car. A tire was flat. She stamped her foot, gritted her teeth, and let out a very loud, frustrated scream.
“Hey there, missy, that’s a mighty loud sound comin’ from a skinny young thing like you. You’re about to scare my sheep into birthin’ their lambs early.”
The voice startled her, and she looked over at the man walking toward her, a big grin on his face. She hadn’t seen him mending the fence up ahead.
She began to laugh. “Sorry, mister. It’s just that I’ve had a very bad morning, and this was the last straw.”
“Nothin’ that can’t be fixed,” he said, looking at the tire and rubbing his chin. “Don’t have an automobile myself. Been thinkin’ about it, though. Let’s just get out your tools, and we’ll have this thing taken care of in no time flat. Whoops, it’s the flat we have to fix.”
They both laughed again.
“Name’s Dunbar. Yours?” He held out a callused hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Dunbar. I’m Maura. Maura Ryan.” She shook his hand.
“Where’s your spare?”
“That’s the bad news. My spare is flat, too. I had a flat tire last week and used the spare. I was meaning to get the other one fixed and forgot. Too busy, I guess.”
“Well, let’s get out your tools, and we’ll see what we can do.”
They dug in the toolbox on the running board for a jack, tire iron, air pump, and patch kit. Dunbar jacked up the right front tire, removed it, and pulled out the inner tube.
Maura watched him work as he talked.
“Funny how things work out,” he mused. “If I wasn’t down there mendin’ that fence, you’d be out here stranded. Don’t know how bad your mornin’s been, but I’d say you’ve had a bit of good luck with your bad. Ain’t that the way life goes, though?”
“I suppose it is,” Maura agreed.
“Same as yesterday and today. Who’d think, after that gloomy cold we had yesterday, we’d end up with a bushelful of sunshine today? Yep, things is always changin’. Some for the good and some for the bad.”
Maura watched him pull the inner tube out of the spare.
“Now, I’ll just go back to the house with these.” He hooked the two inner tubes on his arm. “Got to have a tub of water to check for the leaks.”
“Shall I go with you?” she asked.
“No, little missy, you stay right here and enjoy this beautiful day. Watch the sheep, look at the sky, soak up the sunshine, drink it all in, and store it up. That’s what I do. That way, when things ain’t so good, I remember that there’s always better.”
He climbed over the fence and walked through the pasture toward his house, inner tubes, air pump, and patches in hand.
Maura leaned against the car and looked around. A very fat robin flew over and teetered on the fence. The roadside was dotted with patches of snow and tufts of green grass. Bright yellow dandelions found homes everywhere. Sheep grazed lazily in the field beyond.
She watched the diminishing figure of Dunbar moving toward the distant farmhouse. Smoke curled out of its chimney. There was sunshine overhead and a bright periwinkle sky sprinkled with wisps of downy clouds.
She was overcome with a sense of peace. It was a beautiful picture: a promising spring.
Forty–five minutes passed, and Dunbar returned with two inflated innertubes—three patches on one and two on the other. He also brought a brown paper bag and handed it to Maura. “Mable says I should bring this to you. Bread’s still warm.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dunbar. How thoughtful.”
She dug into the most delicious ham sandwich she’d ever eaten as she watched Dunbar squeeze the inner tubes into the tires. She observed from his deeply lined, weathered face that life had not always been easy for him. Yet he seemed so pleasant, so appreciative of the world around him.
When he’d finished, he put the tools back and placed the spare in its rack behind the rumble seat, brushed his hands off, and said, “There you go, missy. All set.”
“How can I ever thank you, Mr. Dunbar? You’ve been a godsend.” She extended a five–dollar bill.
“No, no, missy. I don’t want no money. As days go, this has been a good one, and I do what’s needed. Glad to be of help.”
Maura went with her impulse and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Well, as you say, as days go, I’m sure glad you were with me on this one. Thanks again.”
She continued her drive with a lighter heart, reaching into the brown bag for a maple twist Mrs. Dunbar had included. Mm, delicious!
That’s when the practical, logical, sensible Maura took over. She’d grieved when first her father and then her mother had died. But Matt wasn’t worth that kind of pain. She wouldn’t spend another minute on him. And no, she wouldn’t have him fired. He was too valuable an employee. Let him get on with his life—the miserable bounder. She’d get on with hers.