Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [17]
She slowly fanned herself with a large straw fan, her attention fixed on something outside. She’d repaired her hair. He wondered when she realized it was all askew from cat whacking. She’d certainly been unaware of it while he’d been there.
Unusual for a female. All the women he knew had a sixth sense if something about their person was amiss. Not Miss Gail. She’d had no idea.
Even now he could see she’d missed a few wispys. They lifted and fell with each wave of her fan. He took another moment to enjoy the view, because that’s all it was. Once he made his presence known, Jekyll would vanish and Hyde would appear.
He moved his attention to the desk, but the mesh screen kept him from seeing whether a key lay on top of it. Miss Gail pulled a lever on the board, then unplugged two cables. She pulled another lever but left those cables in.
He tapped the doorframe. Glancing over her shoulder, she tensed, then turned back around. No invitation inside, but no command to go away, either.
Opening the screen, he hooked his hat on the stand and crossed to the desk. A key lay smack in the middle of it. He let out a silent breath.
She picked up a pair of binoculars and pointed them in the opposite direction from where he stood. He followed her line of vision out the window. There was nothing to see. Yet she kept them against her eyes, pretending fascination with . . . a leaf?
He rubbed his mouth. Should he thank her? Probably not. Apologize? Absolutely not. So he pulled out a chair, sat down, and unlocked the top drawer.
Ding.
She set down the binoculars. “Hello, Central.”
He tuned her out and went through every file, every document, every ledger. She kept excellent records. Her penmanship was first-rate. Her math flawless.
He began memorizing the names and locations of those receiving service outside of town. When his eyes began to cross, he stretched, linking his hands behind his head and twisting to the left. He twisted to the right and froze. She was staring at him, only she wasn’t taking in the view the way he’d done earlier. No, she was looking at him as if he was a polecat at a picnic.
He lowered his arms.
“How does everything look?” she asked.
It was the best record keeping he’d ever seen. And he’d seen plenty. “It’ll do.”
Her lips thinned. The little mole beneath them shifted. “Do you have any questions?”
“Not as yet.”
“How long are you going to sit there?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Am I bothering you?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t try to hide his amusement.
“Gloating?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.”
She crossed her arms. “How long are you going to sit there?”
“Miss Georgie, Miss Georgie!”
The two of them turned. The little gal from the depot scurried across the veranda, hunching over something in her hands. He stood, but before he could open the screen, she one-handed it. Her overalls had taken a turn for the worse, dirt marring their knees and seat.
“Sorry that last message took me so long to deliver,” the girl said. “But lookit what I found. You’ll never believe it.” She stopped short, gaping at him. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“I work here,” he said.
“No foolin’?”
“No fooling.”
She accepted his claim with the unquestioning faith of youth, continued to Miss Gail’s side, then held out her prize.
Miss Gail lurched back in her chair. Was it something poisonous? He was there in two strides, but it was only a bird’s nest with three tiny eggs inside.
“Oh, Bettina.” Miss Gail pressed her knuckles against her mouth. “Where did you find this?”
“In the big ol’ pecan tree over there in Germania Park. Some fellers were throwing rocks at it, but I chased ’em off. Then I got to thinking, they’d fer sure come back later, you know, on account o’ Ottfried’s offer? So I done climbed up that tree and rescued it. Wanna help me put it in yer birdhouse?” She headed toward the kitchen.
“Bettina.” A sadness edged Miss Gail’s tone.
The girl stopped.
“We can’t put that nest in the birdhouse, I’m afraid.”
Bettina’s eyes widened. “You done got somebody in there already?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Then how