Authors: Donna Richards
“Yes, they’d have to have twenty-four available if this were a domed stadium.”
“Well, Angie,” he raised his voice and squinted at the field, “you sure know your football.”
Cathy arrived and took the only empty seat available, the one next to Max. All the men in the box seemed enthralled with the game and engaged in little conversation other than an occasional yell at no one in particular. Angie relaxed and actually started to enjoy herself. She laughed at the animations on the giant scoreboard and stood with the others in something called a “wave”. Although she never managed to see an actual infraction of the rules, due to her research, she understood the arm gestures of the referees before the announcer explained them to the uninformed public. By the end of the second quarter, she was yelling and cheering with the rest of the box occupants. She was feeling good.
Falstaff leaned over towards Hank. “Angela tells me you’re having some problems with your accounts payable.”
“Oh.” Hank sounded genuinely surprised.
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“Tell him, Angela,” Falstaff prodded. “Tell him what you’ve noted during the interim work.”
All the pageantry of the bands and cheerleaders down on the field couldn’t lift the rock of apprehension that settled in her stomach. She heard shuffling behind her and knew Wilson had edged forward at the mention of accounts payable. She could well imagine his glare boring into her back.
“Well, I noticed the warehouse was unattended when the overhead doors were open. That could lead to theft, you know.” She dared to glance up. Hank nodded thoughtfully in response. “It’s outside the role of our interim work, but we could monitor the warehouse for this condition and maybe make recommendations…”
“Tell him about the missing invoices,” Falstaff said, not letting her take a breath.
“Your staff couldn’t provide a number of the payable invoices that we specifically requested. This could be an indication of several problem areas, such as unauthorized payment, or payment to fictitious vendors, or—”
“Poor filing procedures?” Hank asked.
“Perhaps,” Angie conceded. “Hopefully, that’s all that’s wrong. But the missing invoice can be the first warning of something potentially much more serious.”
Hank seemed to consider the possibility. At least he appeared to be taking the matter in earnest and she found some comfort in that. Angie glanced over toward Falstaff. His face beamed brighter than the shiny brass of the tubas marching onto the field.
Hank shifted towards Falstaff. “I suppose you’re suggesting some sort of additional study your people can perform for a price.”
“We can do that, most assuredly.”
Hank washed his hand over his face. “Your people have done a good job, a competent job for Hayden thus far. However, I’m faced with certain financial constraints that will probably preclude me from utilizing anything beyond the contracted audit. But I’ll tell you what. If you’ll put 118
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together a proposal, I’ll give it some serious attention.” He stood up. “I need to excuse myself for a few minutes. Anyone want anything from the concession stand?” He glanced quickly around before leaving the box for the stairs.
Competent.
Angie could almost feel herself glow. He said they had performed a competent job, to Falstaff no less.
Falstaff reached over and grabbed Angie’s hand. “Good work. I knew you could do it. Things look fairly positive. Perhaps I underestimated your marketing skills. We’ll talk more about this in the office on Monday.”
She slumped back in her wooden chair exhausted, surprised at what a toll the anxiety of this moment had caused. The plastic ankle brace felt like the only part of her body that hadn’t gone completely limp. Someone tapped her shoulder from behind. She twisted her body as best she could in the tiny space available and faced Tom Wilson.
“I heard you had some trouble in the parking lot the other day.” He smiled, not a particularly pleasant smile, more of a cat-concealing-a-canary smirk.
“It was only a flat tire. Max changed it for—”
“Maybe you should be more careful, Angie. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Get hurt? But how—?”
Tom stood and stretched. “Think I better go make a run of it before halftime is over,” he announced and followed the same path as Renard.
Angie briefly pondered the strange conversation, but the marching antics of the band and the constantly shifting amplitude of the sound soon captured her attention. Eventually Hank and Tom returned. The late afternoon sun had shifted enough to throw deep shadows across the field and add a chilly briskness to the ever-present wind. Angie cheered the hometown team on to victory in the final two quarters. The thoroughly delightful afternoon ended all too soon. With the victory bell tolling from the far end of the stadium, she reluctantly stood to leave.
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The two partners thanked Hank for the seats and quickly joined the crowds surging down the steps.
“Thank you for the tickets.” She held out her hand to shake Hank’s as had the two partners before her.
“Yeah, these were great seats.” Max moved the folding chairs so he could stand besides Hank. “Angie, we’ve got to go.”
Hank blocked Angie’s exit. “Is that wise? Can you manage the steps with that cast on your leg? You could wait here until the crowd thins down.”
She took one look at the mass of humanity crowding the narrow concrete aisles, and wished that was an option. “Max is my ride. I promised him we wouldn’t stick around after the game. I think I can manage.” She glanced up to his eyes. “Thank you again. This was truly a gift.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
She started to step around Hank to join Max on his other side when a quick shove from behind sent her tottering on the narrow ledge. Her breath caught. Her arms flailed at the empty air. Just as she felt herself falling backwards, Hank caught her arm and pulled her back to safety.
He held her steady while her insides jittered like one of those cheerleader’s pom-poms.
“What happened?” Max asked. “Did you trip?”
“Pete stumbled,” Wilson said. “He must have bumped you.”
“Yeah, I must have bumped into you or something.” Pete scowled back at Tom. “Sorry about that.”
“Are you all right?” Hank held her shoulders in a death grip. His face drained of color.
“Yes, I think so.” Her heart pounded fiercely in her ears. “Just let me sit down for a moment.”
“I’m sorry I’m so clumsy,” Pete said. “You sure you’re okay?”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t tumble down the stadium,” Cathy said, standing discreetly behind Max.
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Angie nodded. Hank frowned. “Max, why don’t you go on? I’ll take Angie home.”
She started to protest but he held up his hand in warning. “Those steps are difficult enough to descend in a cast, and after that scare, you’ll need a moment to recover.” He looked up at Max. “Go ahead, I’ll take care of everything.”
“Are you sure?” Max looked at Angie, his eyebrows raised.
She smiled. After all the ranting and raving she had done about Renard, it was no wonder Max was concerned to leave her alone with him. “It’s okay, Max. You go ahead. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride over here.”
“Sure thing, Angie. We’re still on for that project tomorrow, right?”
She nodded and he left followed by Cathy, Pete and Wilson. Soon she was alone with Hank in a rapidly emptying stadium. “Thanks for waiting with me. I’m not sure I could have handled those steps.” She cocked her head towards him and squinted. “You always seem to be around when I need rescuing. Why is that?”
“And you need rescuing so often.” He laughed. “Are you ready to take on the steps now? You look like you’re breathing a bit easier.”
They walked to the handrail, but she hesitated. Somehow going down appeared far more terrifying than coming up. “Let me go first,” Hank said. “It’s not as bad if you can’t see the bottom.”
“And if I trip?”
“Then we go down together.” They both laughed and she followed behind at Hank’s deliberately slow pace. They reached the bottom and he took her elbow to steer her toward the tunnel passage. “Did you really enjoy the game?”
“Oh yes. I liked the cheerleaders and mascots and the bands…” She tried unsuccessfully to describe how alive she felt to be a part of so much commotion. “It’s not at all the same as watching the game on television.”
“No, that it’s not,” he agreed. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ve never been able to convince Elizabeth to come to a football game.”
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“Why not?”
He shrugged, then took her hand. “I wonder if you could do a favor for me, Angela?”
“What kind of favor?” she asked, staring at her hand in his. She was sure Falstaff would disapprove but, darn it, the warmth and strength of his hand covering hers felt too good to protest. Everyone who knew them had left. Maybe she could allow it just this once…
“I have to attend a charity ball and Elizabeth can’t—”
She pulled her hand out of his and stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh no, you don’t. We’ve had this discussion before. I told you, I’m not allowed to socialize with clients.”
“I’ve thought of that,” he said, tossing the ends of her scarf over her shoulders. “No one will know who you are. It’s a masquerade ball. For Halloween. You’ll be in costume.”
“Masquerade?” She hesitated. She’d never dressed in a costume before, not that she could remember.
“The art museum has a fundraiser.” He slipped her hand in his again and steered her towards a car parked at the far end of the stadium lot.
“I’m expected to go and I don’t want to do it alone. I wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else I could invite…”
“What about Elizabeth?”
“She’s tied up with a shoot in New York that weekend.”
Her defenses weakened. First a real live football game, now a masquerade ball. “I…I don’t have a costume.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll have you covered head to toe, I promise. No one will recognize you.”
“No, I can’t.” She shook her head, and pulled her hand back from his.
What was she thinking? There’s no way Falstaff would sanction a masquerade ball. In truth, she’d love to go. A lump formed in her throat.
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betraying her with an off-key gasp in the middle. She turned and hurried toward the car.
“Angie, wait up--” He ran the few steps after her. “What’s the real reason you won’t come with me?”
“I told you. It’s not allowed.” She forged ahead, wishing she hadn’t sent Max on his way. She stopped, took a deep breath and turned towards Hank. “Don’t they have businesses that lease out women for occasions like these?”
“You mean escort services?” He stopped and looked at her as if she had just suggested he take Oreo as his date. Heat tinged her cheeks.
Grabbing her arm, he pulled her toward his car.
“I hadn’t realized I was so pathetic that I needed to hire a stranger for companionship.” He swore softly under his breath.
She had insulted him. He’d been a perfect gentleman and come to her assistance every time she needed it, and she had insulted him. “I didn’t mean to imply…”
“To imply what?” He looked at her with round pleading eyes, the same expression that had earned Oreo all those extra treats the veterinarian constantly scolded her about. He shook his head. “Never mind. If you can’t stand to share my company, I’ll give the tickets away. I just thought you’d enjoy it.”
“And I would. I’ve never…”
“Never what?”
“Never dressed in a costume before, never pretended to be anything other than what I am.” Hadn’t she already told him as much at the restaurant? Why was he badgering her?
“And what exactly are you, Angie?”
“Clumsy.” She nodded to the plastic cast on her leg. “Uncoordinated.”
She turned her head away from him. “Boring.” Her voice dropped. “A freak.”
“What?” He stopped, causing her to swirl around to face him. “What are you talking about? What makes you think you’re a freak?”
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A lump formed in her throat making the words stick and burn. She tapped her hand to her chest instead.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. She buried her face into his shoulder.
“You’re no freak, Angel,” He laid his cheek on top of her head. “Not you.” He hugged her tight. “And no one could ever say you were boring.”
Tears filled her eyes. She hoped his jacket would absorb the wetness so he wouldn’t see. She swallowed, forcing the lump down further. “You didn’t say anything about my being so clumsy.”
Laughter shook his chest beneath her cheek. She smiled. Whereas she couldn’t face his pity, laughter was another matter. She pulled back out of his arms and swiped at her eyes.
“You know, my father used to call me Angel.” They continued their progress toward the car. The crisp October air relieved the burning heat in her cheeks. “My mother thought I wasn’t going to live. The doctors told her my chances weren’t very good, so she named me Angela to put me under the protection of the angels.”
“But you showed them.” He squeezed her arm. “Now do it again.
Come to the masquerade ball with me.”
“Even if I could go, it wouldn’t be any good. I can’t dance.” What was it about this man that brought out all her secrets? Well, almost all her secrets.
“Nonsense. Everyone can dance. You just move to the music.” They reached the car. He unlocked and opened her door before crossing over to the driver’s side.
“It’s not nonsense. I’ve never even been to a dance,” she said once he was inside. “I don’t know where you put your hands or how you’re supposed to step. I can’t do this.”
“You told me you hadn’t been to a football game until today and you learned about that quick enough.” He started the engine but they remained in the parking lot while the car warmed up.