Switched, Bothered and Bewildered (18 page)

"Thank you for that brilliant analysis, Dr. Freud. What are you now, a repair guy-slash-contractor-slash-sculptor-slash-shrink?" she snapped.

"Sorry, I guess that wasn't the best thing to say in light of your rough afternoon," he said.

"I'll say," she replied. Gosh, did she need to be so horrid? Her sister sure wouldn't be. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm stressed out about everything."

"Remodels are stressful. Don't sweat it. I'm a big boy. I can take it."

"Thanks for the pizza party. It was the highlight

of the week." She stopped talking and took a big swig of her beer.

Beer and pizza. Here she was straight from the apple martinis, seared scallops with lemongrass, watercress salad set, and something about this stuff tasted and felt so much better than any of that precious food she ate in
San Francisco.

It reminded her of her mom's dash-and-serve cooking. Jillian smiled thinking of how hard her mom had tried to get it together for dinner. Her dad had actually been the better cook.

They'd really had some good times here. She looked out over the deck at the dark blue water that gently washed against the bulkhead below the house. The moon was almost full and reflected in a swath of light that seemed to lead right to this house. It also highlighted the worn-out paint and the rotting deck railing.

"Geez, this deck has seen better days," she said.

"I noticed. Most of the time a good sanding and refinish will do the job, but I'm worried about the pilings. I'm going to check them tomorrow."

"I see I've taken on more than I expected. A face-lift might have been a little premature when some of the more basic things need repair."

"Yes and no. If the structure is sound, the finish work is all you need."

"If the structure is sound," she echoed.

"Gotta have a good foundation."

"And a good roof. Is the roof okay?"

"The roof is good. Can't be more than ten years old."

She drifted off again, lost in her thoughts, he assumed. Dean swigged his beer and wondered what made her tick. He'd like to unravel that old blue sweater and find out what
her
foundation was like. But she seemed to be coming to grips with some basic facts tonight, and the timing was just off. That, and an upstairs full of teenage girls made his possibilities impossible.

"Why don't you go to bed? Things always seem better in the morning. I'll clean up down here."

"Would you mind? I feel bad."

"Not at all. You've hit the wall. You worked hard today. You're a great little stripper."

"Ha-ha, I guess I'm sandpapered out. I think my fingerprints have been sanded off."

"Take a nice shower. I'll stay and work if it's okay with you."

"Okay. You're not going to do a Norman Bates thing while I'm in the shower, are you?"

"Hacking you to pieces is the last thing on my mind in regards to you in the shower. It would be a waste of hot water."

She smiled. "You're funny." She moved slowly, and he saw how tired she really was.

"Goodnight," he called to her. He watched her go back in the house. His Mystery Date.

¹²

Sibling Rivalry

Jackson's head was two inches away from hers as they leaned over the light board in his office and studied the animated illustration media that advertising had sent down. She could smell the subtle scent of his cologne and how it mingled with the heat from his skin. She breathed him in.

He was intoxicating: his dark hair, his striking brown eyes, and his angular good looks. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up, and his muscular arms were outlined against the finely pressed cotton. No wonder Jillian had a crush on him.

He pointed to the drawing of a dragon. Harvey the Big Blue Dragon, to be exact. "He looks mean," Jackson said.

"He was mean, actually." Jana Lee gave Jackson a quirky smile. She felt a little embarrassed for lusting after him instead of focusing on the project.

"We'll have to happy him up. Your drawing was better. Can you find that sketch you did and we'll give the design department something to compare?"

"I'll take it down there." She'd actually love to see what the design department was like. Jana Lee wondered why she hadn't wandered down there already, but she'd been busy.

"Olga can do that," Jackson said.

"No, no, I'd like to see what they're working on." As if she even knew where they were. She'd have to consult her company map.

"Sure." He straightened up and looked at her. "We're moving ahead on this one, you know. I like it."

"You mean after you do a comparison of all the production numbers and time elements compared with the other two ideas?" Wow, she sounded official.

"Just the comment I'd expect from you, Ms. Tompkins, and I read those reports already, I promise."

She glanced up quickly and hoped Jackson didn't notice her lack of knowledge. She realized Oliver had done all Jillian's work and covered for her like a champ. Ollie was amazing.

"By the way it's Friday you know."

"It's been a long week, hasn't it?" She smiled slyly, knowing he was fishing for her to acknowledge their dinner date.

He rolled his eyes and slumped against the desk dramatically, hand against his heart. "You have no mercy, do you."

"Just a little. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere special. How does Top of the Mark sound?"

"Like I should change my clothes?" Jana Lee looked down at the black casual clothes she'd found in the back of her sister's closet. Plain Jane.

"You look great now, but if you want to go home first and throw on some pearls, I'd be happy to pick you up there."

"Since you know the way."

"Yes, I do, don't I?" he smiled.

"That would be great. I'm going back to my office to hunt up that sketch." She unhooked the drawing off the light board and rolled it carefully into a tube. "I'll see you about what time?"

"Six-thirty?"

"Seven?" she suggested. She felt the need for more prep. Or just more delay. Or something.

"That's fine. Our reservations are for seven-thirty."

"This time I'll be expecting you."

"Does that mean you'll have on more than a wet towel?"

She didn't answer that, just moved out of his grasp. On her way out she glanced behind her to see him watching her every move. Funny guy.

Jackson waited till the door clicked closed and tried to find something to smack himself in the brain with to stop the streaming video of his upcoming date with Jillian. He was going crazy. He settled for his own hands and decided to hold his head in a viselike grip until his thoughts of Ms. Tompkins became more orderly and less carnal.

It didn't work. She was completely naked in his mind. Actually she still had on a pair of pink bikini underwear—and pink high heels.

He'd hardly been able to keep himself from going in for a kiss a few moments ago. She was so round and luscious. Her lips were a soft rose and her eyes were so sexy blue. And he liked the way she thought. It was all rambly and disorderly, and ideas came tumbling out of her like clowns out of a VWbug.

Which really made no sense at all, when he thought about it. She was the numbers lady. Her reports were always impeccable. Sometimes she flipped back to being that, and other times she was just the most out-there girl he'd ever met.

She confused him and delighted him, and he didn't know his ass from his elbow anymore.

He only knew that he needed her. When she

was in the room, he felt alive. He liked that feeling. He worried about that feeling. He was a lovesick idiot.

The design department made her stop and stare like a kid. There was chaos and color and walls filled with illustrations and photographs of Pitman's various toys.

Pencils and markers, and oh, my, she resumed breathing and slowly took in as much as she could. Light boards held transparencies being sketched in pencil. Storyboards showed frames of television commercials, a few of which she recognized from last holiday season. There were parts of toys and strange creations in every corner and on every shelf.

What a wonderful job these people had. She'd taken an art major in college. How she wished she had finished. As it stood now, she had no training. She gulped back a lump of emotion.

Better get out of here. She had no idea who to hand this to, but Jana Lee figured that Jillian probably didn't get down this way too often. There was a path worn in the floor between her office and accounts receivable as far as she could tell.

"Hi, is that for the Little Princess preliminaries?"

A striking, very petite girl in black capris and a paint-stained T-shirt came up beside her and took the drawing out of her hand. "Very, very nice,

you're good. Aren't you from accounting or something? Where have they been hiding you?"

In a cave, Jana Lee thought to herself. "Jackson— Mr. Hawks—wanted me to bring this to you. Something about the dragon looking too mean?"

"I getcha. Did I hear right about you and your sister being the little princesses on the original show in the seventies? The copyright people told me when they purchased the franchise rights your names were in the legal forms. And Pam over there says her kids used to watch the show. I'm Pe-tra, by the way, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." Jana Lee stuck out her free hand and shook Petra's. "It's true, we were the princess twins, but as you can see, we didn't make any shrewd business deals in that respect."

"That's not what I heard from legal. I heard you need to sign a release form and if we go ahead with the dolls, you'll be paid royalties."

Jana Lee stared at her blankly. Could Uncle Cyril have done something right for a change? Her mom would always say that using her mother's brother for their attorney had saved them lots of money and that's all they'd thought about at the time. Then Mom would make the
tsk-tsk
sound. Bad investments, along with Uncle Cyril's taste in plaid golf pants, expensive women and yellow Cadillacs, had pretty much emptied the pot of their princess money before her parents had known what had hit them.

They'd managed to buy the house in Washington, which had served at least Jana Lee well, as she and Bill had had a place to set up house when he'd just been starting out as a Boeing engineer. It had been a commute, but free rent had been a big break and had made up the cost of traveling.

"Anyhow, you'll have to check with legal about all that stuff, but look at these sketches. They were taken from publicity photos of you and your sister. We sort of jumped the gun on these, but legal always takes too long and we figured what the hell, we'll get started." Petra took Jana Lee's arm and led her over to a section of the department. There, pinned on the cork walls, were their old princess photos, pink frothy dresses and all. They'd both had long dark hair at the time, all curls and ringlets.

Jana Lee stared at the photos, then to where Petra was pointing. The sketch was of two dolls that had her face. Well, both their faces—hers and Jil-lian's. Their seven-year-old faces anyhow. It was a little spooky. As if it weren't strange enough having a sister who was identical in every way, now they were going to be cloned.

"I'm speechless. The drawings are very nice."

"Okay, you hate them?"

"No, no, it's just strange to see your face on a doll, you know?"

"I guess I see your point. We'll try and do you

justice, anyway. And in the final package I think we'll have different colored sashes and bows just like you two did on the show, so the audience could tell you apart."

"I'll be sure and visit more often as things progress."

"We're toying with having them sing the song. You know, this one:

We are happy little princesses in the land of make-believe,
we have a big blue dragon,
and he will never leave
—
because he loves us, he loves us,
and yes he loves you too.

Did I get it right? We had a video running yesterday."

"That's it all right, but wouldn't you have to pay more for the music rights?"

"Good point. That's your area anyhow. Let us know about that, will you? I think it's cool they picked this product to replace Byker Chikz. I thought the retro ideas from the Pitman archives would have been easier, but it turns out the whole process is just as crazy, so it was Jackson Hawks's final word we go with the Dragon thing. Production says we're using the Cindi Lou Who body from our Grinch movie series. Terrific body. Great

seller. It's just a matter of new heads and dresses, and a great dragon." Petra pointed to her drawing of the princess outfit. "I've sewn up a few mock-ups of the dress. Would you like to have a sort of working lunch and give me a hand with that?"

"You sew too?"

"Jack-of-all-trades/' Petra laughed. "Art is more than a sketch pad, as you know."