Free Wish List by Fern Michaels Page B

if he takes his business elsewhere?”
    “And do you think another company will put up with him?”
    “Money’s money. People shape up real good when greenbacks are involved. A smaller company might have the time to coddle him.”
    “That’s like paying a maître d’ for a table in a restaurant.”
    “And you’ve never done that? Get real, Ariel. I say you should meet him for lunch or coffee the next time he’s in town and lay down the ground rules. When he understands, he might fall into line. If he doesn’t, you tried. Unless, of course, you’re afraid to meet him.” Her voice was sly sounding, her eyes just as sly looking. She watched as Ariel continued to massage the pink scars on her face.
    “I’ll give it some thought. Don’t get any match-making ideas, Dolly. The first rule of business, as anyone knows, is don’t mix business with pleasure. Let’s make some coffee and get the inventory started.”
    They worked steadily until the office staff arrived. They were rewarded with exclamations of delight that sent shivers up and down their spines. “I guess that means we did good,” Ariel said, and smiled.
    “This can’t be the same place I’ve worked in for ten years,” the freckle-faced Bernice said “That computer looks like a machine from hell. I’m getting nervous just looking at it.”
    “Not to worry,” Ariel said blithely. “Here’s the plan. But, first I want to ask all of you something. Do any of you want to learn how to drive these rigs? If you do, the company will pay for the course. Even if you never drive on the open road, having the license will be a plus. If the truckers ever go on strike we’ll have it covered to a degree. This is in no way mandatory. The course starts today at nine o’clock. We can call in a temporary agency to work here mornings until we get through it. Inventory is a bitch, as you well know. And, putting all this stuff into these computers is going to take some expertise. I say we go for it.”
    “Okay, count us in,” Bernice said, speaking for the others.
    “Will the guys start calling us ‘the good old girls’?” someone asked.
    “Will we have to learn how to park those rigs? I can’t even parallel park my car,” another said.
    “Guess we’ll find all that out this morning. Dolly’s going to call the temp office so each of you get out your work for the day and have it ready. The computer people loaded your program so a knowledgeable person shouldn’t have any trouble.”
    “Who’s our boss?” Bernice asked. “What I mean is, if we ever go out on the road, who do we answer to?”
    “Me!” Ariel said smartly. Her heart was pounding so furiously she thought it would jump right out of her chest. She was taking charge, and she was damn well going to make all of this work. She gave herself a mental shake when she saw an eighteen-wheeler glide past the wide double windows. It looked like an untamed monster. She remembered a trucking movie with Jan Michael Vincent called White Line Fever. She also remembered rooting for the actor and cursing the bad guys, who just happened to be other truckers. That was a movie. This was real life. Things like that didn’t happen in real life. Maybe she’d call Jan and ask him where he did his research for the role. When she had time.
    Promptly at 8:45, the women piled into the company van and headed for their instruction course five miles away. As they were exiting the lot, Bernice shouted from the back seat, “Lordy, lordy, there goes Mr. Sanders. Bet he gives that temporary an Excedrin headache. Do you want to hear something funny?” Not bothering to wait for a reply, she continued, “Mr. Sanders rarely comes down here, but he’s been here several times recently. He does call all the time and he did go to Mr. Able’s for dinners and such, but he hardly ever came here. It seems strange to me. Maybe he’s frightened of you, Miss Hart. A big guy like him, frightened of a little slip of a thing like you.