Chapter Seven
You can observe a lot just by watching.
— Yogi Berra
This wasn’t a furniture store, it was a warehouse masquerading as a furniture store. Couches, chairs, tables were all piled nearly to the ceiling, and small forklifts ran up and down the long aisles, beeping, blinking blue lights attached to poles stuck on them. Jack was nearly run down twice before they’d made their way through the warehouse to the large showroom in the rear of the building.
One look at the showroom and Jack wanted to be back in the warehouse, be anywhere else. Men didn’t belong in places like this. Car showrooms; that’s where men belonged. He could talk pistons and speed. He didn’t know chintz from cheesecake—and had no desire to learn.
Keely, however, obviously was smack-dab in her element. She had also learned absolutely nothing from his gentle hints that maybe she should try to ease up a little on her take-charge personality. Attila the Hun goes shopping; that was Keely McBride.
“We’ll look first, thank you,” she told a hopeful salesman who broke away from a gaggle of similarly desperate-looking men to approach them the moment they were through the showroom doors. “If we find anything that suits, we’ll be back. In the meantime, we’d like to be left alone.”
“I’ll take that,” Jack said, plucking the business card the salesman was holding out to Keely, who had already aimed herself at the first row of displays. “You might want to use this free time to have a cup of black coffee, take a self-defense class—anything you can think of to prepare you in case she does find something she likes.”
“Yes... er, thank you,” the salesman said, then pointed at Jack. “Say, aren’t you—?”
“Probably,” jack said, smiling. “We’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
Keely was halfway down the first aisle before Jack caught up to her, walking as she scribbled in her notebook. He didn’t know why, and sure didn’t want to stop, investigate his feelings, get in touch with his inner idiot, but he was actually getting a kick out of watching her do her thing.
“Find anything yet?” he asked, then pointed to a dark green leather couch. “That’s not bad. And they’ve got it set up with matching chairs, a couple of tables, some lamps. Looks good. We can just buy it all and get out of here.”
She stopped dead, turned, and looked at him. “Buy by the room? Oh, wonderful. My client is one of those.”
“Meaning?” Jack said, his back straightening, his enjoyment in her forgotten. It was if she’d just lumped him in with all the other knuckle-dragging animals in the wild kingdom, and pretty low on the food chain at that.
“Meaning, anybody can buy by the room, allow someone else to dictate what goes with what. Anyone without a lick of imagination, that is. You don’t need me, all you need is someone to tell you what you like.”
“Aren’t you telling me what I like?” he asked, looking at her closely before he stepped back a pace. “Oh, no. Forget it. I hired you. I am not going to get dragged into this decorating stuff. I’m just here to drive the van. Buy the green couch, damn it, and let’s get done here.”
“Sit on it, Trehan.”
“Hey, do you use that same mouth around my baby cousin?”
Keely rolled her eyes. “No, I mean—sit on it. Sit on the couch. You like it, you buy it. It’s a good size and will fit nicely in that large room. But not all this other stuff. You didn’t hire me just to point and click. I design rooms, I don’t do cookie-cutter decorating.”
Jack remembered his minor-league coach with more fondness, and that guy hadn’t only ordered him around, he’d spit tobacco juice on his shoes while he was doing it. Still, Jack walked over and sat down. Spread his arms on the back of the cushions, crossed his legs. “This thing is hard as a rock,” he said, amazed, because it had looked good enough.
“And it’s not real leather, and you’d be replacing it in three years. Now, can we get on with this? And as I told you, this is only a stopgap measure, buying a few necessities. Most of your furniture will be much more... upscale.”
“Upscale. Is that a synonym for expensive? Because I have a feeling it is.”
Keely tipped her head, looked at him. “Okay, short course in furnishing a space. You do it right the first time, you don’t have to do it again. The best woods, the most well-constructed couches, chairs, which can eventually be reupholstered, not replaced. Good costs money, but so does not-so-good, and you’ll be replacing not-so-good too often. We can get mattresses and frames here, some carpets for low-traffic areas, basic furniture for your den, buy the basics for a few of the bedrooms, because this store has some fairly decent bedroom furniture. Surprisingly, there’s also a couch back there that would be perfect in your living room. But that’s it for today, except that today I’ll also learn more about what you like as you point out what you like. You like leather couches, fine. I make suggestions as to which is your best buy, the best style and color, but you have the final yes or no on everything. That’s how I work. So get up. Come on—up, up, up.”
Obediently, he got to his feet, once more following after Keely... considering ways to kill her, stash the body where no one would ever find it.
“Try that one,” she said, halfway down the next aisle, and she pointed to a sort of beige leather couch that looked to be made up of several different pieces stuck together, even curved at one end.
He sank into the cushions. He could smell the leather, leather so soft it was nearly a sin to run his hands over it. “Not bad,” he said, shrugging, then looked at the price tag. That was one thing Keely didn’t seem to do—look at price tags. “Holy—is that for this whole arrangement? The chairs, the lamps, those flowers?”
“It’s for the couch,” Keely told him, sitting down on the matching chair and reaching for the price tag. “We’ll talk. Don’t ever believe the price tag. But remember, we have to shop where everything is already in stock. This not only limits our choices but affects the price.”
He leaned over as she was ready to stand up, holding her down by placing a hand on her arm. “I think we need to clear something up here first, okay? I’m rich. You know it, I know it. But I wasn’t always rich, and I won’t always be rich if I don’t look at price tags. My mother would have had a nervous breakdown if she saw that price tag. Hell, she’d never have seen it, because we had the same damn brown-and-green plaid couch in the living room for twenty years. Am I making myself clear here?”
“Well, it’s about time,” Keely said, sitting back in the chair. “Oh, this is comfortable, isn’t it? Anyway, I’ve been waiting for you to give me some input, Jack. Starting with a budget would be nice. How much were you planning to spend?”
He took back his hand, shoved it into his hair. “I don’t have the faintest damned idea.”
“Fifteen rooms, Jack, starting from the bare walls and working our way from kitchen dish towels to doormats, and everything in between. I admit I’ve never had a job this big, but I’ve given it some thought. Here, what do you think of this?” She opened her notebook, wrote down a figure, and turned the book so that he could see it.
Jack blinked, swallowed. “Does that include tax?” he asked after a moment. He’d made twelve million dollars last year alone, and still he had trouble spending money he certainly could afford to spend. “No, never mind. Don’t answer that. It’s a reasonable figure, I suppose. I guess I’m just reacting to some childhood flashbacks that had a lot to do with eating everything on my plate because food didn’t grow on trees.” He smiled at a sudden memory. “Tim once pointed out to Mom that lots of food grows on trees. Dad wouldn’t let him play ball for a week, for sassing Mom.”
Keely laughed. “Your brother sounds a lot like me, somehow incapable of knowing when to keep our mouths shut. But I think you have to thank your parents for teaching you the value of money. We’re always reading about sports stars who spend their millions in minutes and end up bankrupt.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen here,” Jack said, ge
tting to his feet, which wasn’t all that easy, considering how deeply he’d settled into the soft couch. “Now let’s go spend some money, but not on this couch. It’s a man-eater.”
He helped Keely to her feet, and the heat of her hand in his did something dumb, something totally stupid and unexpected, to his insides. He looked at her, she looked at him, and then she thanked him, headed out of the room display and into the aisle.
“Okay, Goldilocks,” she said, and her voice sounded a little wobbly—which he rather liked. “We’ve found too hard, we’ve found too soft. Now we look for just right. Because so far we’ve gotten a whole lot of no place.”
“Yeah, we sure have,” Jack said, lying through his teeth because they had gotten someplace today. He’d learned that Keely McBride had a tongue of pure brass, but she used it to protect herself, not score points off others. He’d learned that he wasn’t the only one who’d taken a single look at Candy and started having gooey feelings. And he’d learned that touching Keely was probably harmful to his mental health.
And it only got worse—or better—when they got to the aisle displaying about sixty different mattresses. Keely did the usual sort of poking at them, sitting on them, but from the way she lingered, frowned, he could tell that this was one area where she wasn’t all that darn sure of herself.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you lie down on them, really tried them out?” he suggested, picking one mattress and box spring set that seemed to have a huge, quilted pillow sewn on top and then sprawling on it. “See? You sleep on beds, you don’t sit on them. This one’s pretty good. Come here,” he said, patting the expanse beside him. “Try it out.”
Keely smoothed her honey-blond hair, drawn back in a tight French twist, as usual, and shook her head. “I don’t think so. If you like it, that’s good enough. We’ll need two queen size and two singles, for the corner guest room. I might get more inventive in the other bedrooms, use couches, day beds, that sort of thing, but they can wait. All right, come on, get up. We still have lots to do.”
“Nope,” Jack said, biting back a grin. He liked the way Keely looked when flustered. Her cheeks got pink, she blinked too much, and she kept poking at her hair, so that some of the curls broke free, got sort of fuzzy around her face and neck. “Not until you lie down here, test it yourself.” Now he did grin. “I mean, I’ve come to trust your judgment, Keely. So... judge.”
She threw her notebook down on one of the other mattresses and approached the one Jack was lying on, glaring down at him. “This is ridiculous.”
“True, but do it anyway, Keely. Humor me.”
She sat down on the side of the bed, her back stiff, then jackknifed until her legs were raised high enough to clear the mattress, then stretched them out straight in front of her.
“Better, but it’s not sit on the bed, Keely, it’s lie on the bed.”
She lay down, crossed her hands in front of her, looked up at the ceiling. “It’s okay,” she said shortly. “A little soft, but okay.”
Jack rolled onto his side, propped up his head with his bent arm, and looked down into Keely’s face. “You like it firmer?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, and Keely was standing beside the mattress, her notebook once more in her hands. “If play time’s over, Trehan, I’d like to continue?”
“Me, too, but we can’t always have what we want, can we, Miss McBride?” he said, grinning as she stomped off down the aisle. What was wrong with him? He didn’t even like the woman, let alone desire her. Did he?
One hour and sixteen long aisles of furniture later, Keely was ready for the salesman. Whether or not he was ready for her Jack couldn’t be sure, because the man approached rather slowly, as if wondering if he first shouldn’t arm himself with a whip and a chair.
“Here’s the deal,” Keely said without preamble, once she’d introduced herself and found out their salesman’s name was Curtis. “We buy, Curtis, we buy a lot, and we get a twenty-five-percent discount on everything we buy. Jack, show him your credit cards.”
“Oh, no, no,” Curtis said, waving away the suggestion even as Jack—deciding blind obedience would get him home fastest—reached for his wallet. “There’s no need, Mr. Trehan. Your credit is good with us. No limit. I’ve already spoken to my manager. He’d like an autograph for his son, though, if that’s all right with you?”
“How nice,” Keely said, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Curtis had barely looked at her business card before stuffing it into his shirt pocket, and now he was just about swooning over Jack. It was entirely possible, Jack decided, that good old Curtis harbored a death wish. “And the twenty-five percent?” Keely continued. “And immediate delivery at no extra charge?”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Curtis said, easing a finger into his shirt collar, looking uncomfortable. “I mean, we’ve dealt with your company before, but only with the owner, and only with a fifteen-percent discount. I don’t think—”
“Good-bye, Curtis, have a nice day,” Keely said, reaching into his shirt pocket and retrieving her card. “Come on, Jack. We’re wasting our time here.”
Jack, who had been sitting in a nearby chair, watching Keely operate, got to his feet, shrugged at Curtis, and began following Keely toward the showroom door. God, but he loved watching her as she walked away. He only wondered if he enjoyed the view that much, or if he knew he’d be safer if she just kept on walking, straight out of his life.
“Good tactic, if it works,” he told Keely as he caught up to her. “I didn’t know you were a gambling woman.”
“I’m not,” Keely admitted, slipping her hand through his arm. “Do you mind? I’m shaking so badly, I think I might fall down. Don’t walk too fast; give him time to chase down his manager.”
She wasn’t kidding, he could feel her trembling. “Hey, I can afford the difference. I don’t need a full twenty-five-percent discount. I’m really not a tightwad, you know.”
“I know that, and I plan to get as much money out of you as I can, but principle is principle. Twenty-five percent is not out of the question, not when we’re buying as much as we’re buying. Granted, I make more if you get less of a discount from Curtis, but Curtis has to learn that he makes no money if we walk, and I have to live with myself. You’re my client, my customer. I wouldn’t allow you to be taken to the cleaners, even if you were Bill Gates, okay?”
Jack felt this insane urge to stop, haul Keely into his arms, and plant a huge kiss on her. He fought down that urge. “So this is strictly business, right? You’d be this upset—shaking, actually—over any client?”
She didn’t answer him, which was probably a good thing, but only said, “Can you please stop and tie your sneaker? I can’t look back, in case Curtis is following us, but you could take a peek while you pretend to retie your sneaker.”
“I’m wearing loafers,” Jack pointed out, “but I suppose I could fake it.”
“No, never mind. Either he follows us or he doesn’t. But, oh,” she said, sighing, “I really did love that headboard. And you liked the leather couch. And there’s that one vase...”
“We could go back,” Jack suggested, feeling the last strings tying him to his mother’s frugal apron strings breaking loose with a small boing.
“No, we can’t. Come on. You can buy me a hamburger.”
“Wait!” Curtis called out just as Jack had opened the door to the van, stepping back so that Keely could climb into the passenger seat. “Ms. McBride, Mr. Trehan—please, wait!”
Jack watched the worry line between Keely’s eyebrows smooth out as a smile touched her lips. “Did you hear something, Mr. Trehan?”
“Possibly,” he answered her, delighting in her grin. “Maybe it was the wind? Sounds of traffic from the highway?”
“Yes, that’s probably it.”
“So how far do we take this? Do I acknowledge old Curtis, or do I get in the van, start the engine?”
“I have this lovely
mental picture,” Keely told him, “of the van heading out of the parking lot, Curtis running behind, yelling ‘Thirty percent, thirty percent.’”
“You’re new to this gambling stuff, so don’t get greedy. Know when to hold ’em, Keely, and know when to fold ’em,” Jack warned, then motioned for her to get back out of the van as Curtis, nearly breathless, skidded to a halt at the front of the van—possibly ready to throw himself in front of the wheels, if necessary.
“Twenty... twenty percent,” Curtis gasped out. “That’s as much as I could get. And free delivery and setup tomorrow.”
Keely turned to Jack, looking hopeful. “What do you think?”
He couldn’t help himself. He grinned at her. “I think we have a winner.”
And then it began. Jack walked the aisles with Keely and Curtis, the same aisles he’d walked for the past hour, and saw things he’d never seen before.
She plucked a couch from one spot, a chair from another. Combined both with a table from yet a third collection. “Those two lamps, the flower arrangement from that table over there—but not the table—the potted plant at the end of the aisle. No, no, Curtis, don’t stop to take down style numbers, just slap some sold stickers on everything. And do try to keep up; I want to be home in time for the baby’s bath.”
“Where are you putting all this stuff?” Jack asked in a whisper as Curtis put a bright red SOLD sticker on yet another piece of furniture, this one a round area rug that looked like something out of the Arabian Nights.
“Round table, round carpet, both for the foyer,” Keely answered reasonably. “It’s wool, it’s imported, and it’s fairly good, although definitely not the same quality you’d find in many upscale condos in Manhattan. But we’re not in Manhattan, and I think a suburban family home should be well-furnished, but also comfortable, livable. From everything you told me earlier, if I were to put a twenty-thousand-dollar carpet in your foyer, you’d never walk on it.”
Jack eyed the round carpet once more. “Twenty thousand? So how much is this one?”
“Fifteen hundred. Minus twenty percent. There, now don’t you feel like a real bargain hunter?”
“Twenty thousand, huh?” he repeated, looking at the carpet yet again. “Keely, you’re finally starting to make me feel good about hiring you. I said do what you want, just get it done. I’m a baseball player from a small town. I bought my condo furnished, and only my manager saw it before the sale went through. I had no damn idea what this stuff costs. Anybody else would have taken me to the cleaners.”
“Yeah,” Keely said, still walking, still pointing at items for Curtis to tag, “and don’t think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. And, to tell you the truth, if it weren’t for Mary Margaret, I might have done just that.”
“Candy? What does Candy have to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” Keely said, stopping, turning to face him. “But it sounds good when I say it, I feel good when I say it, and if I stop to figure out why, I just might hate myself in the morning. Let’s just say I’m enjoying myself, and learning about myself at the same time. Someday, in fact, I’m going to make a very good mother.”
This time, when Keely moved on, Curtis at her heels, Jack stayed where he was.