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Mary never would have expected a billionaire business genius to wield a hammer willingly. His ruddy glow, however, shouted male satisfaction in a manly job being well done.
“Tell me about this guy you think my aunt should marry.” He grunted as he snapped off jagged shards at a baseboard and put a new strip into place.
She was grateful to him for replacing the wood Guineverehadpriedloosefromthewallandchewed. Backwhenthebigsapwastooyoungtoknowbetter, of course. Mary had become adept at dodging, but it would be nice to usher visitors down her hallway without warning them about wood waiting to trip and/or stab them.
“His name is Cecil Breckenridge,” Mary said.
“What does Aunt Cynthia say about him?”
Thenheseemedtoforgethehadaskedaquestion. He held his hand up, palm facing the ceiling, like a surgeon waiting for his nurse to read his mind and slap the next instrument into his hand. Preferably while genuflecting.
Marytriedtofigureoutwhathewanted.Shedidn’t guess fast enough. He shook his waiting hand and gave a wordless sound of impatience.
Maybe it was that gizmo. The one you used to sink nails into wood without making a hammer-sized dent. She slapped it into his palm a little harder than she needed to. He didn’t notice. His silence said she had guessed right, though.
What was it with guys? She hadn’t run into one yet whocouldrepairanythingwithoutanacolytenearby, scrubbed, white-coated and at his service.
At least it kept him distracted. She could sneak in a question for the book.
“What did the union chief say when you tried to change a lot of the rules on the shop floor?”
“He tried to punch my lights out. He did punch one of them.” Van rubbed his jaw ruefully with the back of his hand before handing the nail set back to Mary.
Itseemedshewassupposedtoputthingsawayfor him as well as hand them to him.
“Wasn’t there something about potty breaks for people on the assembly line?”
Van grunted his assent.
It sounded silly unless you knew the background that made silly things deadly serious. When the union first struggled for a foothold in Van Deventer Ventures, Van’s great-grandfather or great-great-grandfather — somebody way back there — had tried to fire one of the leaders. The excuse was that he left the assembly line for the loo. Never mind that it was at more than halfway through his ten-hour shift. Actually, management was determined to can him — ohh, think of the chapter heading that could make — because he was trying to bring a union into the company.
When he lost his job, the plant erupted in a near-riot, the press made the most of the scandal and the union made its way officially into the factory. Bathroom breaks were enshrined in legalese in the first contract. They were a cast-iron symbol of workers versus management.
“How did you get those breaks out of the labor contract?”
“Toldournegotiatortooffereightbathroombreaks a shift.”
“You’re kidding. What was the catch?”
“We worked out the cost. The union guys had to publish a flyer about it and make sure every employee read and understood it.”
Mary whistled wordlessly. So, that was how he’d done it. When he finally negotiated a contract with notasinglewordaboutwashrooms,everybodyknew what it meant. Van Deventer Ventures would run in a newatmosphereofcommonsenseandgoodfaithon both sides. Well, as much as contrary human nature ever allowed.
“Who is this guy?” Van added a grunt, held out his hand for pliers and stalked off for Mary’s kitchen and the loose handles on half her cupboards and drawers.
It took her a moment to realize Van was talking about lovers, not labor contracts. “He’s a respected professor of English literature,” she told Van’s retreating back. She picked up his toolkit and trailed after him. “He’s on the board of the opera company andthemuseumtoo.Cyn’ssopassionateaboutboth they shouldn’t ever run out of things to talk about over Sunday brunch.”
“Why would any red-blooded man take part in a charade like this Husband Parade?”
“Because he won’t know he’s in a parade. Think of it as a glorified blind date.”
Van muttered to himself.
“You’ve raised a good point,” Mary added. “Cyn conned me into making sure he comes to the party. I guess I have to make sure I don’t sound like I’m calling him up to say, Professor, would you like to come over so Cyn can open your mouth and check your teeth and decide whether she wants to marry you?”
Van glared.
Mary scratched her head before she realized she was doing it with the screwdriver in her hand, ready to pass to Van. “You aren’t nearly as enthusiastic as I thought you’d be about this.”
