card?"
Belinda hid her smile as she watched for an opening in the oncoming traffic. Allegedly the president of the department store chain had sent Libby a thank-you card last year. "Isn't Glen an accountant? We're all frugal." These days, by necessity.
"You might be frugal, but Glen is cheap. For Valentine's Day, he actually suggested that we go to a card shop, exchange cards in the aisle, then put them back because he didn't see the use in spending the money!"
"Okay, that's cheap."
Libby huffed. "I swear, if he cuts up my Bloomingdale's card, I'll cut off his pecker."
Belinda choked on her breakfast drink. "You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do. I have a mean streak. Want a homemade bear claw?" She opened a sack, and the scent of cinnamon sugar rode the air.
"No, thanks. I'm having—" She squinted at the can. "Berry Bonanza with extra calcium."
Libby made a face, then bit into a lump of fried dough. "Sugar and caffeine, girl, that's the way we get our engines started in the South. You're going to have to get with the program."
"I'm trying to lose a few pounds." More like twelve, which had climbed onto her hips from a steady diet of comfort food after the wedding and now refused to dismount.
"You look nice and curvy," Libby insisted, cheeks full. "What size cup do you wear, D?"
"Um, a C." And not even her mother knew that about her.
"Did you have a fun weekend?" Libby asked.
Belinda checked the street signs and turned right into the entrance of the upscale apartment complex where the two other carpoolers lived. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Don't tell me you worked."
"A little."
Libby began unwinding curlers, leaving corkscrews of yellow hair hanging around her ears. "Doesn't the Mistress of the Dark get enough blood during the week?"
Belinda had concluded that Libby wasn't Margo's biggest fan—something about Margo once taking credit for a document that had come out of Libby's technical writing group. But there were two sides to every story, and Belinda had vowed not to gossip about her boss with the women, all of whom were veteran employees of the Archer Furniture Company. "I was preparing for a meeting this morning with Mr. Archer."
"Mr. Archer is coming in? Must be some meeting."
"A potential acquisition—Payton Manufacturing?"
"Oh, yeah, I saw the memo. Don't they make sleeper sofas?"
"Right. And Murphy beds."
"Don't tell me Margo's actually going to let you sit in on the meeting?"
Belinda stopped in front of the clubhouse, where Carole and Rosemary stood, then waved. She glanced at the clock and willed them to run. "That was my understanding."
"I wouldn't be so sure." Libby snorted. "When Mr. Archer is around, Margo likes to be the only female within a hundred yards. She has the hots for him, you know."
Carole Marchand, twenty-something mail room employee with short, barrette-studded black hair, slid into the backseat behind Libby and slammed the door. "Who has the hots for whom? Cute car." The metal braces gave her a slight lisp.
"Thanks."
"Margo, Mr. Archer," Libby tossed over her shoulder.
Rosemary Burchett, immaculate in her gray Donna Karan suit and dark pageboy, placed a lumbar pillow in the seat behind Belinda, then slid in place and caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. "You haven't heard? Margo turns positively giddy when Juneau is in the vicinity."
The woman said Margo's name with veiled loathing, and the owner's name with the familiarity of a loyal executive assistant. From what Belinda could gather, Rosemary handled correspondence and generally fronted for the absentee owner. Belinda found the unruffled-able older woman a tad intimidating, and it seemed that she wasn't alone—even Margo stepped aside when she met Rosemary in the hallway.
"Mr. Archer is coming in today?" Carole asked, shifting her gaze sideways. "So that explains why Rosemary is dressed to the nines."
Rosemary returned a bland smile. "Even if he puts in an appearance, Margo shouldn't get her hopes up. As if Juneau
Belinda hid her smile as she watched for an opening in the oncoming traffic. Allegedly the president of the department store chain had sent Libby a thank-you card last year. "Isn't Glen an accountant? We're all frugal." These days, by necessity.
"You might be frugal, but Glen is cheap. For Valentine's Day, he actually suggested that we go to a card shop, exchange cards in the aisle, then put them back because he didn't see the use in spending the money!"
"Okay, that's cheap."
Libby huffed. "I swear, if he cuts up my Bloomingdale's card, I'll cut off his pecker."
Belinda choked on her breakfast drink. "You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do. I have a mean streak. Want a homemade bear claw?" She opened a sack, and the scent of cinnamon sugar rode the air.
"No, thanks. I'm having—" She squinted at the can. "Berry Bonanza with extra calcium."
Libby made a face, then bit into a lump of fried dough. "Sugar and caffeine, girl, that's the way we get our engines started in the South. You're going to have to get with the program."
"I'm trying to lose a few pounds." More like twelve, which had climbed onto her hips from a steady diet of comfort food after the wedding and now refused to dismount.
"You look nice and curvy," Libby insisted, cheeks full. "What size cup do you wear, D?"
"Um, a C." And not even her mother knew that about her.
"Did you have a fun weekend?" Libby asked.
Belinda checked the street signs and turned right into the entrance of the upscale apartment complex where the two other carpoolers lived. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Don't tell me you worked."
"A little."
Libby began unwinding curlers, leaving corkscrews of yellow hair hanging around her ears. "Doesn't the Mistress of the Dark get enough blood during the week?"
Belinda had concluded that Libby wasn't Margo's biggest fan—something about Margo once taking credit for a document that had come out of Libby's technical writing group. But there were two sides to every story, and Belinda had vowed not to gossip about her boss with the women, all of whom were veteran employees of the Archer Furniture Company. "I was preparing for a meeting this morning with Mr. Archer."
"Mr. Archer is coming in? Must be some meeting."
"A potential acquisition—Payton Manufacturing?"
"Oh, yeah, I saw the memo. Don't they make sleeper sofas?"
"Right. And Murphy beds."
"Don't tell me Margo's actually going to let you sit in on the meeting?"
Belinda stopped in front of the clubhouse, where Carole and Rosemary stood, then waved. She glanced at the clock and willed them to run. "That was my understanding."
"I wouldn't be so sure." Libby snorted. "When Mr. Archer is around, Margo likes to be the only female within a hundred yards. She has the hots for him, you know."
Carole Marchand, twenty-something mail room employee with short, barrette-studded black hair, slid into the backseat behind Libby and slammed the door. "Who has the hots for whom? Cute car." The metal braces gave her a slight lisp.
"Thanks."
"Margo, Mr. Archer," Libby tossed over her shoulder.
Rosemary Burchett, immaculate in her gray Donna Karan suit and dark pageboy, placed a lumbar pillow in the seat behind Belinda, then slid in place and caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. "You haven't heard? Margo turns positively giddy when Juneau is in the vicinity."
The woman said Margo's name with veiled loathing, and the owner's name with the familiarity of a loyal executive assistant. From what Belinda could gather, Rosemary handled correspondence and generally fronted for the absentee owner. Belinda found the unruffled-able older woman a tad intimidating, and it seemed that she wasn't alone—even Margo stepped aside when she met Rosemary in the hallway.
"Mr. Archer is coming in today?" Carole asked, shifting her gaze sideways. "So that explains why Rosemary is dressed to the nines."
Rosemary returned a bland smile. "Even if he puts in an appearance, Margo shouldn't get her hopes up. As if Juneau
Similar Books
Light Boxes
Shane Jones
Shades of Passion
Virna DePaul
Beauty and the Wolf
Lynn Richards
Hollowland
Amanda Hocking
Dragon Knight (The Collegium Book 3)
Jenny Schwartz
I Am Titanium (Pax Black Book 1)
John Patrick Kennedy
Chasing Danger
Katie Reus
The Demon in Me
Michelle Rowen
Make Me
Suzanne Steele
Love Script
Tiffany Ashley