either a scraper or a steam cleaner. Deirdre bit her lip, wondering if Tom Ames would be interested in splitting the cost of renting one, assuming she could run it herself. She sighed. Probably not, since he’d let the shop get into this condition in the first place.
Someone knocked on the front door she had propped open, and Tom himself stepped inside. He wrinkled his nose. “Stinks in here.”
She shrugged. “Ammonia. It’s in the cleaner. That’s why I’ve got the doors and windows open.”
He glanced around the room, frowning. “Floor looks better. What do you want to do about the walls?”
“I’ll get to them next. They’ll need a good washing down and then some paint.”
He nodded absently. “And the shelves?”
“They’ll need to be stripped and repainted too.” She swallowed. “Would you be willing to spring for the paint?”
He shrugged. “Sure. It’s my place. Are you sure you can do all of this by yourself?”
Deirdre blew out a breath. “I’ve already figured out what I need. I can do it.”
“If you think you can, go for it. Of course, I might need to raise the rent after you finish fixing the place up.”
She stared at him until she saw the corners of his mouth edge up into a grin.
“Relax. I’m kidding.”
“Good to know.”
“You might want to go home and get cleaned up yourself. Lunch shift starts in less than an hour.”
She glanced regretfully at the damp floor. One more pass might do it. On the other hand, she was currently too filthy to wait tables, even at the Faro. “I guess I’d better start bringing clean clothes with me when I come over here in the morning. Then I can just clean up in the back before I start work.”
“Okay by me. See you later.” He started toward the door.
“What should I do with those boxes in the back room?” she called after him.
He paused, frowning slightly. “Ferguson’s T-shirts? I’ve been using them for bar rags. I guess you could use them for cleaning. They’re not worth much more than that.”
“Oh.” She glanced back at the boxes piled in the storeroom. “They’re all T-shirts? All those boxes?”
“Far as I know. Do what you want with them—like I say, they’re not worth much.” Tom headed back out the door.
Deirdre stood staring at the storeroom, with its leaning tower of T-shirts, then glanced at her watch. Unfortunately, Tom was right. She’d have to leave them until this afternoon, after the noon rush was over.
Craig Dempsey sat opposite Big John Brandenburg’s desk, pretending he wasn’t intimidated. Brandenburg’s desk was an antique—heavy mahogany, burnished to the color of old honey, a good six feet across and a yard wide. Plenty of room for Big John himself and a message to anybody sitting on the other side.
Be impressed. Be very impressed.
Craig was. Money always impressed him, mainly because he knew how to spend it. He figured he’d be spending Big John’s soon enough, right after he dragged Dee-Dee back where she belonged and got the requisite ring on her finger. Maybe he’d even get a desk like this one as a reward.
“So you talked to Reba,” Brandenburg rumbled. “Did she know where Dee-Dee was?”
“She said no.”
“You think she was lying?”
Now there was an interesting question. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one he had a good answer for. “I don’t think so,” he said carefully. “She seemed surprised Dee-Dee was gone.”
“Hell.” Brandenburg stared down at the pile of papers in front of him. “She can’t have gone too far. She doesn’t have any money.”
Craig thought of Dee-Dee trying to get by without money. Without her father’s support. Without all the cushions she’d had most of her life. “No,” he agreed. “She wouldn’t be able to get too far away. Are there any other relatives she might call on?”
Big John gave him one of those looks that he’d grown to recognize. Why don’t you already know this? Weren’t you almost engaged? “We never
Someone knocked on the front door she had propped open, and Tom himself stepped inside. He wrinkled his nose. “Stinks in here.”
She shrugged. “Ammonia. It’s in the cleaner. That’s why I’ve got the doors and windows open.”
He glanced around the room, frowning. “Floor looks better. What do you want to do about the walls?”
“I’ll get to them next. They’ll need a good washing down and then some paint.”
He nodded absently. “And the shelves?”
“They’ll need to be stripped and repainted too.” She swallowed. “Would you be willing to spring for the paint?”
He shrugged. “Sure. It’s my place. Are you sure you can do all of this by yourself?”
Deirdre blew out a breath. “I’ve already figured out what I need. I can do it.”
“If you think you can, go for it. Of course, I might need to raise the rent after you finish fixing the place up.”
She stared at him until she saw the corners of his mouth edge up into a grin.
“Relax. I’m kidding.”
“Good to know.”
“You might want to go home and get cleaned up yourself. Lunch shift starts in less than an hour.”
She glanced regretfully at the damp floor. One more pass might do it. On the other hand, she was currently too filthy to wait tables, even at the Faro. “I guess I’d better start bringing clean clothes with me when I come over here in the morning. Then I can just clean up in the back before I start work.”
“Okay by me. See you later.” He started toward the door.
“What should I do with those boxes in the back room?” she called after him.
He paused, frowning slightly. “Ferguson’s T-shirts? I’ve been using them for bar rags. I guess you could use them for cleaning. They’re not worth much more than that.”
“Oh.” She glanced back at the boxes piled in the storeroom. “They’re all T-shirts? All those boxes?”
“Far as I know. Do what you want with them—like I say, they’re not worth much.” Tom headed back out the door.
Deirdre stood staring at the storeroom, with its leaning tower of T-shirts, then glanced at her watch. Unfortunately, Tom was right. She’d have to leave them until this afternoon, after the noon rush was over.
Craig Dempsey sat opposite Big John Brandenburg’s desk, pretending he wasn’t intimidated. Brandenburg’s desk was an antique—heavy mahogany, burnished to the color of old honey, a good six feet across and a yard wide. Plenty of room for Big John himself and a message to anybody sitting on the other side.
Be impressed. Be very impressed.
Craig was. Money always impressed him, mainly because he knew how to spend it. He figured he’d be spending Big John’s soon enough, right after he dragged Dee-Dee back where she belonged and got the requisite ring on her finger. Maybe he’d even get a desk like this one as a reward.
“So you talked to Reba,” Brandenburg rumbled. “Did she know where Dee-Dee was?”
“She said no.”
“You think she was lying?”
Now there was an interesting question. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one he had a good answer for. “I don’t think so,” he said carefully. “She seemed surprised Dee-Dee was gone.”
“Hell.” Brandenburg stared down at the pile of papers in front of him. “She can’t have gone too far. She doesn’t have any money.”
Craig thought of Dee-Dee trying to get by without money. Without her father’s support. Without all the cushions she’d had most of her life. “No,” he agreed. “She wouldn’t be able to get too far away. Are there any other relatives she might call on?”
Big John gave him one of those looks that he’d grown to recognize. Why don’t you already know this? Weren’t you almost engaged? “We never
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