Love by Proxy Read Free Page B

and marry him when she got big-city living out of her blood. Henry ran the small town’s sole newspaper. He wrote a column about beekeeping, when he wasn’t lazing around local officials’ offices jotting down notes. He was a sweet man, just about Amelia’s own age, and she supposed someday she might even give in and do it. But Henry seemed a desperate last chance, and meanwhile she was still hoping for a crack at an exciting occupation in the big city. She didn’t know why she’d picked Chicago. Perhaps because her Navy veteran mother had been stationed at a naval base near Chicago during World War II and had come to Chicago on leave, and Amelia had heard such fascinating things about the Windy City. Perhaps it was its ancient gangster history. She’d come here a year ago in a last-ditch attempt to find something her life lacked, before she went over the hill completely. She’d been hoping for excitement and adventure. And she’d found Mr. Callahan.
    She groaned as she filled out another order form. Then she thought about what she had to do at 7:00 p.m. and groaned again. She called Marla at lunch and asked if she could borrow the belly dancer’s costume.
    “Why?” Marla asked.
    “I don’t have time for deep questions,” Amelia grumbled. “Can I or can’t I?”
    “Well…sure. He went to see you, didn’t he? I had to give him your address, you just can’t say no to him; but I thought he was going to mail you a letter….”
    “I can’t tell you what it’s all about, so don’t ask.” Amelia sighed. “But Andy isn’t going to like it.”
    “What is he having you do? Oh, Amelia, you can tell me, I’m your friend!”
    Mr. Callahan came out of his office, saw her on the phone and glared.
    “Yes, sir,” Amelia said calmly, “that’s right, our new manure spreader can handle all your requirements.”
    “What?” Marla faltered.
    “If you’ll get your order right in the mail…. Oh, you’re just checking on it, you don’t want to place an order at this time? But you are keeping us in mind? How nice of you, sir!”
    Marla was giggling. “Mr. Callahan, I presume? See you later, darling.”
    “Yes, sir, certainly. Goodbye.” Amelia hung up and gave Mr. Callahan a bright smile.
    He nodded approvingly. “Nice public relations work, girl. Very nice.” He walked on by, and Amelia tried not to slide down in her chair with relief.
    Of course, Marla was waiting like a big spider when Amelia got to her office late that evening.
    “What are you going to do, and where?” Marla asked. “You’ve got to tell me! What has that man put you up to?”
    “I can’t tell you,” Amelia groaned, knowing that Marla would rush to tell Andy, and then she’d have a male stripper in her office…arrrgh!
    “I’m your friend,” Marla coaxed.
    “So far, so good, will you swear out an affidavit to that effect and keep it on hand, I may need it,” she murmured as she drew on the belly dancer’s costume and tugged her trench coat over it. “This is getting to be a real drag, you know?” she muttered.
    “Where are you going?” Marla asked.
    “Out to eat.”
    “Where?”
    The phone rang in time to save her. Marla answered it, and Amelia got her purse and started out the door.
    “Yes, of course I understand, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Marla was saying. “Yes, I’m sure the weather’s cooler there. It’s too bad she’s sick.”
    Amelia waved and left. Rather than walk, she got a cab across town to the French restaurant. She walked in, nervous, fuming, and asked for Carlos.
    The hostess gave her a blank stare. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I want to speak to Carlos,” Amelia said again. “He’s expecting me.”
    “To do what?” the hostess burst out, staring at the trench coat, which showed no blouse or skirt or slacks.
    Amelia leaned forward. “I’m stark naked,” she said with a stage leer. “I’m supposed to jump out and scare an old lady in there. Now will you please get Carlos?”
    “Yes,