Hiding in Plain Sight (12 page)

I got to wondering if he might break the keyboard, the way he was pounding on the letters. He must ruin a lot of them if that's his normal typing method.

In any case, it seemed he'd just started and then he was getting to his feet. “Should be the very best now,” he said.

Janine thanked him with an unmistakable shine in her eyes, though he didn't seem to notice.

I
t seemed as though we'd just gone back to work after lunch when I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already almost four in the afternoon.

“How are you doing with the summaries?” I asked Janine, hardly able to believe the day had flown by so quickly.

“Just a couple more,” she said, sweeping hair off her forehead with her fingers. “Thank goodness for Joey or I'd really have been sunk.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” I ventured casually. I was pleased when she took the bait.

“Yeah. Only, he's a bit dense when it comes to women,” she said, lowering her voice to a murmur.

“How do you mean?”

“Okay, can you keep a secret?” she asked after a few seconds of silent deliberation. Her voice had dropped
to a whisper by then.

“Sure,” I said.

“I kind of like him.” It was cute how she lowered her eyes and blushed saying this. I wished I could make it so he liked her back.

“Does he know?” I asked.

“No. I mean, he
should
know, but he's managed to miss every hint I've dropped. And I can't do anything too radical like actually ask him out, because, you know, we work together and it would get all weird if he wasn't interested.”

“But neither one of you are seeing anyone as far as you know?”

“He dates, I think, but no one really steady. I, on the other hand,” she looked embarrassed again, “actually do have a boyfriend. He's a total loser, though. No job, no education, no ambition. I've dumped him like half a dozen times and he keeps coming back and making promises about how he's going to change, but he never keeps them.”

“Why do you take him back, then?”

“I dunno. Stupid, I guess. Or a slow learner.” She laughed humourlessly. “I guess I get bored or lonely, and then it seems as though Jason is better than nobody.”

“There must be
something
good about him,” I said, thinking how sad it would be if she said there wasn't.

“Oh, I guess he has a few good points, only I've stopped seeing them. We used to laugh a lot together, but I got tired of his shtick after a while. When we first started going out, I thought he was witty, but I found out pretty fast that it was like a performance — a kind of routine. You can't laugh at the same dumb things over and over.”

I knew a few kids at school who were kind of like she was describing. They had some funny lines, but once you'd heard them, that was it. There was nothing new, unless they picked up some fresh material, and then that was just something else for them to overuse.

“The sad thing is,” she was continuing, “he's not the first boyfriend I've had who was like that. It's like a pattern for me. If I ever did get to go out with some-one like Joey, someone who's got something going for him, I bet I'd just blow it anyway.”

“Why would you think that?” I asked, shocked.

“'Cause what would he see in me, honestly? I've got nothing going for me to attract a guy who's smart and has a good job. I'm boring! I probably end up with the Jasons of the world because that's what I deserve. We're suited to each other.”

“I can't believe you think that,” I said. “You've got all kinds of qualities. In the few days I've been working here, I've seen you do a job that's pretty complicated, handle difficult people, and you still showed me around
and trained me for a few things. And you did it all in pretty good humour. Plus, you're pretty.”

“What? Nah, my nose is too big.”

Now this one I was used to. Betts is constantly complaining about her nose, which she refers to as The Honker. How ridiculous this really is you couldn't appreciate unless you actually saw her nose, which is perfectly normal sized. I can't quite understand why so many of the kids I know seem to believe their noses are bigger than they should be, but it's pretty common, all right. I don't know what kind of mirror they're using, but it must be distorting what they see.

“There's not a thing wrong with your nose,” I said truthfully, knowing from experience that I might as well tell it to the desk.

“Oh, no! Not if you're Mr. Potato Head, that is. Anyone else would find it hideous.”

“Come on, you can't be serious.” I knew she was, though, and I knew this wasn't an argument I could win. She'd have to either settle it for herself someday or go through life believing this ridiculous thing. I couldn't help.

“Shhh, here he comes,” she whispered suddenly, turning back to her computer.

Without making it obvious I turned slightly toward the hallway and saw that Joey was indeed headed our way.

“I was bored,” he said, dropping a disk on the desk in front of Janine. “So I emailed myself the program you were using after I repaired it. It didn't seem very efficient — I take it that Stuart designed it at some point in time. He tends to go about things in the most impractical ways. Anyway, I modified it so that you can compile your results as you go along, instead of going in and out of files.”

He was around the desk by then, standing beside her. “Finish what you're doing here, and I'll install it to override the old program. You can keep this disk as backup if you have any trouble. Just uninstall and rein-stall it if there's ever a problem.”

Pink tinged Janine's cheeks as she typed in the final details for the last summary and sent it to the printer where a stack of pages already lay. Then she yielded her seat to Joey.

He plunked down and stuck the disk into the drive, pounded on keys for a while, and then turned to her and explained how to work the modified program.

“Hey, thanks a lot, Joey,” she said when he was done. She gave him a huge smile.

“No prob. I know how much you hate to actually do any work. Unfortunately, I couldn't come up with something that would do it
for
you, but this will at least cut down on what you have to do.”

He strolled back to his office, but only long enough to turn out the lights and pull the door closed. While
he was doing that, I whispered to Janine, “Ask if you can take him out for a bite to thank him for doing that for you. That will seem perfectly natural, not like asking him on a real date.”

“I can't,” she hissed back, but her eyes lit up at the thought.

“C'mon, just do it.”

“I don't know if…” She trailed off as Joey approached us again.

“I'm outta here,” he said, lifting his hand in a kind of wave-salute combination.

I nudged Janine with my foot, knowing it was hid-den from his sight by the desk.

“Uh, Joey,” she started, then faltered.

He stopped and turned toward her questioningly. I nudged her harder.

“I was wondering if I could … you know … buy you a bite to eat … for doing that program for me. Just … you know … to say thanks?”

“Sure! I'm starved,” he said, patting his stomach.

I felt like quite the matchmaker as they left together, Janine looking shy and a bit scared.

Angi and Darla came down the hall a moment later. They seemed surprised to find me alone in the reception area.

“Janine already gone?” Darla asked, pausing at the desk.

“Uh, she's taking Joey for a bite to eat,” I said, wondering, even as I spoke, if I should be mentioning it. I worried that it might seem like I was hiding something if she found out later. “He did some computer program for her and she wanted to thank him or something.”

“My vote's with ‘or something,'” Angi snickered. “She's been after him for ages.”

“What do you mean?” Darla asked.

“You've gotta be kidding. You never noticed that Janine is all gone on Joey? She might as well have it tattooed on her forehead. I'm just surprised that she finally hit on him in a way he couldn't miss,” Angi said. Her voice sounded mean and amused all at once.

“She wasn't hitting on him,” I protested, trying to explain. Darla didn't look impressed.

“Workplace romance is never good,” she said. “First thing, someone's fighting or breaking up and you've got two people who don't even speak. One of them would have to go, and it certainly wouldn't be Joey. I'm not having this place negatively affected by personal matters.”

I wished I'd minded my own business, but it was too late. The damage was done and there didn't seem to be anything I could do to make it better.

I
stepped out into the sunlight feeling terrible about the whole situation I'd just caused. All I'd meant to do was help and cheer Janine up. It was hard to see how my good intentions had turned around so completely and ended up in such a mess.

James and Angi had already gone, and Carol had left the building at the same time I had. Of course, she didn't deign to speak as she walked toward the small parking lot where her car was parked. I stood there, kind of lost in thought, and watched as she drove off in an old blue Sunfire.

Debbie and Stuart came along a moment later, followed almost immediately by Darla, who had returned to her office for something after the unfortunate talk about Janine and Joey. I noticed that the Yaegers were holding hands and seemed in much better spirits than
they'd been in when they arrived for work that morning. They spoke cheerfully as they passed me.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Darla asked as she reached my side.

“My mom. She's picking me up today because I'm delivering a fruit basket to someone in the hospital.”

“I hope none of your relatives are ill,” she said kindly.

“No. In fact, I barely know the person I'm going to see, but he doesn't have many visitors.” I told her how I'd met him and how my family was also babysitting his cat.

“That's very kind of you.” Darla smiled and touched my arm. I felt embarrassed, as though I'd been trawling for compliments. “You know, you've been quite helpful, really. I noticed that you took some initiative today in fetching beverages for Mr. Bruno and Mr. Dayton. If things continue to go well, I'll be glad to have you work with us again next summer.”

I thanked her, feeling pleased and kind of proud.

“Well, I'd best be off. My husband will start dinner if I'm not home soon, and he's not nearly the cook he fancies himself.”

“I suppose you're always the last one to leave so you can lock up,” I said.

“Oh, goodness no. There are lots of nights when one or more of the staff will stay and work late, rather than stop in the middle of something.”

“But,” I hesitated, not sure how to ask what I wanted to know, “the robbery that everyone's talking about. What makes the police think it was Mrs. Thompson if any of the staff here could have stayed late?”

“It so happens that everyone left at five that night, and Marion was the last one out.” Darla smiled. She seemed a bit amused by my comment. “But she always locked the conference room before she left anyway. She was very conscientious about security. So, even if some-one had been left in the building, they wouldn't have been able to get into the conference room.”

She said goodbye then and hurried off to her car. I stood there for a few more minutes and was just wondering if Mom had forgotten about picking me up when she pulled up.

“Sorry I'm late, dear,” she said as I slid into the seat beside her. “I forgot something and I had to run back to the house to get it.”

“It's okay,” I said. “I was talking to my boss any-way. She just left a couple of minutes ago. What'd you forget anyway, the fruit basket?”

“No … this!” She pulled an envelope out from under the sun visor and passed it to me. For a second I assumed it was from my friend Jane, who moved away earlier this year, but it wasn't.

“It's from Greg!” I squealed. I slid a nail under the corner of a flap and pulled down along the side, opening
one end. The letter was two full pages long, and I sank back against the seat and started to read.

Dear Shelby,

I was reading this afternoon and a passage in the book made me stop and think of you. It wasn't romantic or even about relation-ships — in fact, it was about a bird taking flight, how it soared higher and higher until it almost seemed to disappear against the sky. I guess you can picture that, though that's not the point of my letter
.

What is the point? I guess it's that these few words brought you to mind. Something similar happens every day, often more than once. I'll hear something, or read some-thing (like today) or see something (one day it was a bottle of applesauce when Dad and I were at the grocery store — remember the applesauce you threw all over the place trying to impress me one night?) and you're there, so close in my head it's like I could almost touch you. You're in everything around me, because you're in my heart
.

Remember once when you asked me something about my mom, and I didn't
want to talk about it? I couldn't quite explain back then why that was, babe. I felt bad, because I knew you thought I was shutting you out. I didn't mean it that way. It was more because I'd made a place, a closed place that was only mine. It was inside me, locked up solid, keeping sacred the memories and feelings. I couldn't let anyone touch those memories because that might have changed them, and they were all I had left
.

When my mother died, the world lost some of its shine for me. It was like music had gone flat and butterflies had faded and rain just fell, it didn't wash the earth and leave it smelling good and whole. I stood at her grave and all I could think was how unbelievable it was that I was never going to hear her laugh again. She had this funny laugh, like she was going up and down a sound scale
.