Midas Touch (18 page)

“Oh, Sandra,” Cory said. “I almost forgot. I need you to fill

out some paperwork. I should have had you do it yesterday. It won’t take but a minute. Would you mind doing it now?”

“No. That’s fine.” Sandra tried to hide her disappointment as
she slid back into her seat. Cory left to go to her office in the back.”How badly was your bike damaged?” Anna asked.

“I called the repair shop after lunch. The front wheel needs to be replaced and there’s some mechanical repair work. Bill, the owner, thinks he can have it fixed by the end of next week, if he can find all the parts.”

“Nice bike. I saw it when they were loading it up.” Anna leaned back and spread her arms across the top of the booth. Her shirt pulled tight across her breasts, but Sandra was too tired to appreciate the view.

“Thanks.”

“After you get it fixed maybe you could take me for a ride sometime. Or even before you get the bike back, if you’d like.”

Shocked by the obvious come-on, Sandra looked up. Anna smiled and winked. Sandra was saved from a response by Cory’s return.

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” Anna told Cory and headed out.”Okay, babe. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Cory and Anna together.
Sandra experienced a sharp pang of disappointment. She felt an almost uncontrollable urge to tell Cory about Anna’s flirting.
That would be real smart,
she admonished herself.

Sandra sat staring at the forms. She would have to lie about her references and education. Oh well, the worse that could happen was she would get fired. She picked up the pen and began filling out the form. She made up her work references from restaurants in Dallas, hoping Cory would not check them.

“The law requires me to ask for two forms of ID,” Cory

said.Sandra’s heart flew to her throat. Lying was hard. What if Cory knew Dallas well enough to recognize the address on her

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license was in a highly exclusive part of the city? How was she going to explain living there? Cory would certainly fire her. A part of Sandra enjoyed being an unknown dishwasher. She was not ready to give up her anonymity yet.
Lie and stall,
she decided.

“My wallet is in the car. I’m used to having everything with me on my bike. I can’t seem to get organized with a car.” She was ashamed of her low-handed attempt to make Cory feel so bad she’d forget about the ID. Seeing the flicker of guilt wash over Cory’s face, made her even more ashamed.

“Bring them in tomorrow,” Cory offered.

Sandra concentrated her attention on the form to hide her embarrassment. There was a blank for drivers license number and she filled it in with her actual number.

“Have you heard how badly your bike was damaged?” Cory asked. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of that.”

She did indeed sound sorry. While she finished filling out the forms, Sandra repeated what Bill had told her.

“At least the city finally got off its duff and cut those damn oleanders down. I’ve been after them for ages,” Cory stated as she took the forms from Sandra and studied them. “Tate,” she said with a frown and glanced again at Sandra before slightly shaking her head.

“Something wrong?” Sandra asked, her heart pounding.
I
don’t lie well
, she decided.

“No. Everything seems to be fine. I just have this feeling, I should know you.” She looked at Sandra and shook her head.

“The job is only for six weeks,” she added softly.

Sandra wondered if the reminder was meant for her or for Cory herself.

Time was slipping away. Sandra had been in San Antonio for three weeks. After work, she was usually so tired she went straight to the motel and slept. She struggled to keep her feelings for Cory under control. Her free time was spent trying to locate her mother. The telephone number mentioned by her mother in the letter was miraculously still valid, but no one currently there could remember Jessica Tate, and the employment records for that time-period had long since been archived. The secretary Sandra spoke with was sympathetic, but reminded Sandra that even if they did have the records, she could not release any personal information from them.

Sandra spent hours at the library combing through city directories, and discovered a J Tate listed as living on Westhaven.

After checking the Westhaven address and finding a parking lot, she realized she had reached the limit of her detective skills. She made up her mind to hire a private investigator, as soon as she returned to Dallas.

Sandra hung up her apron and grabbed her helmet. It was Sunday night and she was off the following two days. She had picked up her bike the day before. The repairs had taken much longer than anticipated, due to a problem in locating a replacement part. Cory was right about Bill; the bike looked brand new.

Sandra was looking forward to riding her bike to the coast.

She was ready for some sun and lazy hours. The dinner rush had been heavy tonight, and it had taken her longer than usual to finish. On her way out, Sandra found Cory sitting alone at a table totally absorbed in something in front of her. As Sandra grew nearer, she saw it was a set of blueprints and felt a familiar rush of adrenaline.

“Are you building a house, or adding on to the diner?” Cory let the plans roll shut and looked around embarrassed. “Uh, no,”

she stammered.

Sandra felt good about her upcoming time off and could not resist teasing Cory. “Come on. What were you so engrossed in?”“It’s nothing really. A stupid pipe dream.” Cory picked up the blueprints and placed them on a folder at the edge of the table.

Sandra stopped teasing. “There’s nothing stupid about dreams. Where would the world be without dreamers?”

Cory looked at her for a long second before shrugging and glancing back at the rolled up blueprints.

“It’s a house I wanted to buy and renovate. When I was a kid my parents used to drive by the house when they took us to the coast. Every time we drove by it, Dad would tell us about the dream he and Mom had of buying the house. Of course, he could never have afforded it on his pay. He worked at one of the Air Force bases and it took everything he made to feed and clothe us.

There were five of us kids,” Cory explained.

Not wanting to do anything that would stop Cory from talking, Sandra nodded.

“Anyway, we would spend the travel time to the coast planning the changes we would make to the house and yard.” She

laughed. “The only change my mom ever wanted was to plant an apple tree in the front yard.” She stopped and shrugged. “Both of my parents are dead, but their dream became mine.”

“It sounds like a wonderful dream,” Sandra said. “Can I see the blueprints?”

Hesitantly, Cory opened the prints and used the salt and pepper shakers to help hold them open. As Cory moved the folder out of the way, a photo fell. Sandra leaned over and picked it up.”That’s the shape it’s in now,” Cory explained, almost apologetically. “The foundation is sound. It just needs some TLC.”

“Wow! It’s a nineteenth century Italianate Victorian!” Sandra exclaimed in awe of the graceful, if somewhat deteriorating, structure.

“How did you know that?” Cory asked, amazed. “Architecture’s a hobby of mine.”

Cory nodded. “I fell in love with this place the first time I saw it. A cattle baron built the house in 1853. It’s located south of town about twenty miles out and surrounded by thirty acres of some of the most beautiful landscaping you’ve ever seen. Of course, it needs a lot of work too.”

“Who owns it?”

“Alexander Hall, a banker, owned it for years. He died about six years ago and left it to his son. The son kept hanging onto the place, but didn’t maintain it, as you can see. It went on the market about two weeks ago.”

“Have you put a bid in?”

Cory shook her head. “No. I can’t afford to buy the place.

Like I said, it’s a pipe dream.”

Seeing the pain in Cory’s eyes, Sandra felt a strong wave of protectiveness toward her. Pushing it away, she studied the blueprints.

“Are these the changes you want?”

“Yeah. I wanted to restore it to its original condition.”

Sandra became lost in the world she loved. “You’ve done a good job of maintaining the integrity, but if you want to hold

it true to the original specifications, you need to remove these bay windows. They wouldn’t have been in the original design.”

She grabbed a pencil and began to lightly sketch her suggestions onto the back of the folder. By the time she was through, she had a line drawing of the front of the house and Cory was again staring at her.

“Who are you?” Cory asked.

Sandra laid the pencil down, knowing she’d gotten too carried away. “What difference does it make?”

“You’re not who you’re pretending to be. That generally means you have something to hide.”

“Everyone has something to hide.”

“Are you running from the law?”

“No, and it’s a good thing I wasn’t or you would have gotten me bagged the day we met,” Sandra said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but instead Cory grimaced.

“Then why are you washing dishes for minimum wage? It’s pretty obvious you have money.”

“What’s so obvious? I could be in hock up to my ears.”

Cory shook her head. “You didn’t flinch when you ruined a hundred dollar silk shirt. My guess is, your bike cost more than my car. You haven’t cashed any of your weekly pay checks. And you’ve never shown me your ID.”

Sandra sighed and played with the corner of the folder. “I’m not a danger to anyone, and I’ll be gone in three weeks. Can’t we just let it go at that?”

“Is Sandra Tate your real name?”

Sandra hesitated before replying, “Yes.”

Cory watched her. “You’re still lying to me about something.

You know it’s illegal to falsify employment records.”

“You have my word. I’m Sandra Tate, and I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Cory frowned. “Sandra, I like you. You’re a great worker, but I have a responsibility to myself, the diner, and the women who work for me.”

“I won’t let you down,” Sandra promised. For some reason,

she wanted to keep this job. The honest simplicity provided something she needed. She could not explain it. She just knew she wanted things to remain the way they were for a little while longer. In three weeks she would go back to Dallas and pick up the reins to Tate Enterprises, but for now she wanted to be Sandra Tate, dishwasher.

Cory stared at her hard as if trying to read her mind. Sandra felt a warm glow start deep inside her and spread as they sat inches from each other. As if on its own volition, her hand came up and gently cupped Cory’s cheek. When she did not pull away, Sandra leaned forward and kissed her gently.

“I won’t let you down,” she promised again. “And I won’t do anything to hurt you.” Shocked, she saw tears flood Cory’s eyes.

“You already have,” Cory whispered, grabbing the blueprints and folder. “Please, leave. I need to close up and get home.” Cory stood and turned her back to Sandra.

Sandra remembered that Anna and Cory always rode together. “Are you and Anna together?”

Cory’s shoulders shifted slightly and straighten. “Anna lives a block away from me. She has two kids and is barely making ends meet. She rides with me because she can’t afford to drive.” Cory sniffed.

“Is there someone else?”

“No.”

“Then how have I hurt you?”

“There’s no trust in you, yet you’ve taken advantage of the trust of everyone who works here.”

“I never intended to hurt anyone.”

“Then what did you intend to do?”

Sandra recalled Laura’s advice to be more spontaneous.

“I’m looking for my mother. She left me when I was a child and I know she lived and worked in San Antonio for awhile after she left. Beyond that, I’ve not been able to find anything.”

Cory turned back to face her. “What has that got to do with you working here?” Her breath caught. “Does your mother work here?”

Sandra shook her head. “I saw the name of the diner in the phone book. The only thing I have from my childhood is a photo of me clutching a bear. I remember his name was Mr. Peepers.”

Cory sat down, picked up the salt shaker, and began turning it in circles on the table as Sandra continued.

“The shadow of the person taking the photo can be seen at the bottom of the shot. I think it’s my mother.”

“How old would your mother be? What does she look like?”

Cory fired the questions rapidly, but kept her attention focused on the salt shaker.

“She would be in her late-fifties, early sixties,” Sandra said, shocked when she realized she did not know how old her mother was. “I don’t know what she looks like. If there were any photos of her, Dad must have thrown them out after the divorce. He never talked about her.” Sandra thought Cory looked relieved.

“It must have been a bitter divorce.”

“I don’t remember any of it.”

“You never asked your dad about her?”

Sandra shook her head. “No. I guess I felt too guilty. I thought it was my fault she left.”

“You don’t still believe that do you?”

“No. I guess not.” Tears tightened Sandra’s throat. She began to twist the ring on her finger.

Cory reached out and touched Sandra’s hand.

The touch was soft, but galvanized Sandra to her chair. Before she could react, Cory removed her hand.

“How did you know to look for your mom in San Antonio?”

Cory asked.

Sandra tried to ignore the desire Cory’s touch had sparked.

She concentrated on telling Cory about her father’s death and about finding the letter in his wallet.

“You just found the letter, and you’re now living where your mother once lived.” Cory was clearly confused.

“I don’t live there,” Sandra admitted. “It was the only address I knew to give you.”

Cory rubbed her temples. “Of course. Another lie.”