Chapter 1

Act 1

Wednesday, June 17^th, 6:15pm

I dropped down into the booth with a sigh. The cushioned seat padding took the brunt of the impact. I nodded to Paul, with a miserable attempt at a smile, picked up the waiting beer and took a healthy gulp.

"So ... it's finally done?" he asked.

"Yep. All the t's crossed and the i's dotted. I'm officially a bachelor as of today," I said sullenly.

Paul was never one to talk a lot, but when he had something to say ... he said it.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," holding his glass up and waiting for my acknowledgement.

"I suppose."

We were silent for a few moments, just staring at the beer glasses rather than each other.

"You know, for a woman that didn't think I'd amounted to much, her fuckin' bitch lawyer was prepared to strip me to the bone for every last dime. Thank God I had Manny on my side. He gives as good as he gets. At least I have the shirt on my back, a place to live, and still own most of my own business."

"Small mercies," my friend offered. Another silence until, "Want some good news?"

"Shoot."

"I've finished your website and it's ready to go. Wanna look?"

"Sure."

He picked up a laptop from beside him and opened it. With a couple of keystrokes, the screen lit up and he turned it toward me. Better Than New was bannered across the top in multi-color script. Several collector automobiles formed a montage along the bottom. There was only one button to click: Enter.

As the next page opened, I looked at it carefully. "Nice work, Paul. You've got everything I asked for here. Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"Another beer will do it."

"Bullshit. You've put hours into this. Come on ... how much?"

"Look Val, you don't need any more bills. That lawyer of yours is going to keep you working for a while just to pay him off. I did this for a friend. You never know, I may need a fender pounded out some day when I'm a little short. Let's leave it at that, okay?"

I nodded reluctantly and raised my glass once more. "Here's to good friends."

We ordered a burger and another beer as we talked about anything but my divorce.

"So what are you doing to keep yourself entertained," I asked. "Still dating Yvonne?"

"Off and on. I don't think she's that interested in me, but ... she never turns down a date or a free meal. Kind of friends with benefits and no strings."

"Yeah ... I get that. Maybe that's what I should be lookin' for. No strings."

"Has its advantages."

"How's the job?"

"Good. Being a techno-nerd isn't as bad as you'd think. Lots of damsels in distress need rescuing each day. Since I don't have a pocket protector, horned-rim glasses, or a dorky wardrobe, I do all right," he grinned.

"Played any golf lately?"

"Yeah. Got in a round at Sunnydale last Saturday. Shot a decent 97. Not bad for me." Sunnydale was a local public course in San Rafael; wide, fairly flat, and kept in good condition despite fairly heavy play.

"Maybe I'll join you next weekend. I could use a couple of days off."

"Good idea. Why don't I get a tee time for Saturday morning ... around ten if I can? The weather should be good. After all, this is California."

"Perfect."

Friday, June 19^th, 7:00am

"Mornin', Boss."

"Mornin', Tommy. Got a minute?"

"Be right there," he chirped, setting down his tool box and following me into my office."

"Think you could do without me tomorrow morning?"

"Oh ... it'll be hard, but ... I guess we can struggle through," he grinned.

"Thanks. I need some R & R after the last few months. I've been hanging out around here too much."

"How many times have I told you that you were spendin' too much time in this place? It's a great place to work, Val, but you shouldn't be livin' here."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, have we got anything that's urgent?"

"Nothin' you don't know about. McAllister's BMW is going to the paint booth this morning. I made arrangements for him to pick it up tomorrow morning. The new fender for that '55 Chevy arrived last night. Doug will get it on his rounds. Other than that, we got a full shop and all hands on deck."

"Good. Thanks for looking after things for the last while. I know I haven't always been here ... physically or mentally."

"Look, Val, you went through a hell of a time. The only things I'm worried about are your health and how much of this business did your ex-wife get. Both of those things relate to my future, you know."

I laughed at Tommy. "Relax, she only got fifteen percent, and I'll be fine. Tomorrow is a golf day with my friend. Satisfied?"

"Yeah. That's a relief. The ownership thing, I mean. She'd sell this place in a heartbeat if she could."

"Ain't going to happen. In fact, one of these days, I'm going to buy her fifteen percent out."

"That's what I wanted to hear," he smiled.

"In the meantime, have a look at this," I said, turning to my desktop computer. I booted up the new website and turned the monitor toward him."

"Jeez, boss. That looks great. Real professional too."

"Yeah ... my friend, Paul, did it for me. I think it'll be good for us. Especially all the testimonials along-side the cars that are pictured. With any luck, a lot of our customers are going to want to have their cars featured, so we can keep adding to the site as we go."

"Man ... that's cool. We're in the big time now," he said, holding up his hand for a high-five.

"Yeah ... I guess we are," I agreed, smacking his hand.

Saturday, June 20^th, 10:24am

"Was this your idea, pal?" I asked quietly.

"Nope. Pure luck," Paul grinned.

We had been paired with two women, somewhat younger than us, and reasonably attractive. From what I could see of their clothes and clubs, they weren't beginners. They had rented an electric cart, while Paul and I chose to carry and walk.

"Hi, I'm Paul Johnston and this is Val Keating."

"I'm Doreen," one said softly.

"And I'm Carolyn Findlay."

Doreen with no last name was a leggy brunette with a lovely figure and a nice face. Too bad she wasn't smiling. Carolyn was a short blonde with a round, almost chubby face, a full body, and a nice smile. I could see the drool forming at the corners of Paul's mouth as he looked over the blonde.

"You play here often?" I asked Doreen.

"No ... not really. If Carolyn hadn't asked me, I probably wouldn't be here today. My golf game is pretty erratic."

"Well, I guess that matches up with me, then. Paul is the one who convinced me to take a day off and play. I'm not likely to break a hundred."

She looked at me with what I took to be suspicion, but said nothing. She still hadn't smiled.

We were standing behind the first tee, waiting for our foursome to be announced. The group ahead had already teed off, and we walked to the tee as our group was called.

"Next on the first tee, Johnston and Findlay foursome."

"Ladies, Paul and I are playing the white tees. Should I assume you are playing the reds?"

"You should assume," Carolyn said with a grin. Doreen still hadn't cracked a smile.

Paul hit his drive, a fade down the right side into the rough. I concentrated on watching the club head hit the ball and was rewarded with a mediocre drive, but on the fairway to the right. We walked up to the red tees to watch the women.

Carolyn had a nice easy swing, and punched the ball out about 175 down the middle. Doreen wasn't as fortunate. She seemed to be uptight as she addressed the ball, probably thinking about too many different things, just as I used to do. Her quick swing produced a low "worm burner" about eighty or ninety yards off the tee.

"Shit!" she spat as she picked up her tee and stomped off to the cart, slamming her club into her bag.

Great, I thought. This was going to be a real fun game. I glanced over at Paul, but he was smiling as he watched Carolyn walk to the cart. I was always surprised at how seldom things like this bothered him.

Doreen's second shot was much better; a fairway metal down the middle.

"Nice shot. That will help a lot," I volunteered.

She turned to me and I saw, for the first time, the faintest hint of a smile.

"Thanks. I hate screwing up my first tee shot."

By the sixth hole, we were talking to each other. She wore no rings, so I guessed she was single, but that was just a guess. She might have taken them off to play. I found out she and Carolyn worked at the same company, Beeson's. It was once the biggest employer in the area. Doreen was the office manager and Carolyn was an accountant. I knew the Beeson name well. My ex-wife worked there.

"What do you do, Val?" Doreen finally asked me.

"I own a body shop. I repair and restore cars and trucks. Not very glamorous," I admitted.

"How many employees?"

"Ten, counting me. Six in body repair, three in restoration, and one in the paint booth."

She hit her next drive, and with a more relaxed attitude, she hit it well.

"Another nice one," I complimented.

This time I got a real smile, her first. "Thanks."

I had been watching Paul and Carolyn as we went along. They were getting along very well. I don't think either of them had their mind on golf, but they didn't seem to care. We could hear Carolyn's high-pitched laughter regularly as they talked.

"You noticed that too, huh," Doreen remarked with a grin.

"Hard to miss. Looks like they're getting along just fine without us."

"What does your friend do besides hustle the ladies?"

"Believe it or not, he's a nerd. He's the IT manager for AMR."

"Really! He sure doesn't look or act like any nerd I know."

"Nope. Just goes to show how stereotypes can be wrong."

"You two guys seem like the odd couple. I mean, a body shop guy and a techie."

"Whoa, now I'm offended," I said in mock disgust. "I have a complete education and a substantial vocabulary. I ain't no ordinary fender-pounder."

She shrank back for a moment at my comment before recognizing I was teasing her. I saw her exhale and show a rueful, apologetic smile.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No need. We are an odd couple. We've been friends for years. We went to high school and college together, both of us on the swim team."

"So how did you end up in your business?"

"My father had a service station with a small repair shop attached. He did engine and mechanical work, which he loved, and farmed out the body work, which he hated. From the time I was fourteen, I worked my summer vacations for him. When the body shop was short of men, I would go over and help. Pretty soon, I was doing some of the work and learning from the pros."

I stopped, picked a six iron out of my bag and hit the shot to the left, over the green. I looked at Doreen and shrugged, dropping the club back into the bag. She walked a few paces ahead, hit a nice five iron to the front fringe and returned to the cart.

"That'll work. Easy putt from there," I encouraged.

I got another smile and a thank-you. We were doing much better at talking to each other now.

I knocked my chip ten feet past the pin and missed the putt coming back. Pretty much the story of my short game. I would struggle to break a hundred today. Doreen hit a nice putt just wide of the hole and had a gimme for a par, her first one of the day.

"Hey ... that's a par. Nice going," I called.

"Yippee!" she shouted, just now realizing it was a par. "I haven't had one of those in ages."

Carolyn chimed with her congratulations along with Paul. I seriously doubt if they knew which shot they were hitting, much less what hole they were on. They appeared to be too busy getting to know each other. I suspected Paul of playing his shots near where Carolyn's were, just to stay close. Carolyn was driving the cart, and Paul was now hitching a ride between shots as Doreen preferred to walk with me, despite the extra effort of walking to the cart for her clubs.

"They're having a good time," Doreen said as she watched them.

"How about you? Better than when we started, maybe?"

She turned and smiled at me. "Yeah. Better."

"You were telling me about how you got into the business," Doreen said as we stood on the next tee box.

"Well, I found I liked the body shop and after a while, I got good at it. I guess I had a knack for it. Dad and I talked about a partnership. He would be the mechanic ... the engine man, and I would be the body man. I thought about it for a while, then we sat down and worked it out. We had to keep them separate. We were quite different in our approaches. I like clean and tidy, he didn't care about cosmetics. I wanted to expand the business into restorations, he was satisfied with what he had. In the end, I set up my business separately from his, and it's been that way ever since."

"Do you and your dad get along?"

"Yup. We're doing fine. He has his place and I have mine. If I have a restoration that needs engine or mechanical work, I farm it out to him. I know I'm going to get a good job from him. On the other hand, if he has body work, he sends the customer to me. It works pretty well, all things considered."

"Nice. What do you call your business?"

"Better Than New. Dad always had the slogan 'Good as New' at the garage, but when I started the business, I wanted people to feel they were getting more than their money's worth. I had finished the restoration of a pre-war International truck and was showing it a one of the local malls as a business display. There was an older gentleman there looking at my work very carefully. I found out he used to own one of the same models and he was very impressed with my effort. He told me I should go into the restoration business seriously. He said my product was better than new. That's how the name came about."

I wonder if Doreen knew how nice her smile was and much it improved her appearance. She seemed so serious much of the time.

We made a quick stop at the tenth hole shack for a soft drink and a sandwich, then carried on.

"So ... tell me about your job. You're an office manager. That's a fairly important role in most businesses."

"Nice title, mediocre pay, plenty of hassles. I think I got the job because they figured I had the thickest hide."

"Oh." I wasn't about to invade the topic any further without her volunteering. Fortunately, she did.

"I'll tell you a secret, Val, but if you tell anyone what I said, I'll have to have you killed."

I jumped back in mock fear. "Maybe I shouldn't hear this," I said.

She laughed. "I have the same number of people to supervise as you do. One difference though; mine are all women. There is nothing worse than supervising an all-female staff in my opinion. Between PMS and the catty infighting, it drives me crazy trying to get them to work together in harmony. If they aren't complaining about their hours or salary, they're bitching about their husbands or boyfriends."

I attempted to suppress a laugh. "Sorry, I know it isn't funny. I was never sure whether the 'P' in PMS stood for pre or post."

"I think it ought to stand for perpetual," she snorted.

I laughed again. It was good to see her show a sense of humor.

We got backed up on a couple of par 3 holes, and had a chance to talk about a number of things related to our businesses. We both avoided any personal probing. I learned she was very bright, college educated, with a good business understanding and a solid background in business computer software. I wondered if her talents weren't wasted on her present employer, especially the way she felt about her staff.

"You don't sound terribly satisfied with your current job. Do you have some résumés out?"

"Yeah. A couple. I'd like to find something that would let me use my brain and my education. Right now I feel like I'm herding cats."

I burst out laughing once more, and this time she joined me. As she opened up, I was beginning to see a much more attractive woman, and certainly a more interesting one.

The game ended with my shooting a sizzling 103, Doreen a 98, Paul a 101, and Carolyn a 110. Not exactly ripping up the course, but we did have fun with our new acquaintances. Ten minutes later we were sitting outside at the restaurant.

"Congratulations, Doreen. Can we humble runners-up buy you ladies a refreshment?" Paul asked.

The two women looked at each other. Carolyn was the first to respond. "Sure."

We found a table and Paul and I went to the bar to fill the orders.

"Here you go, girls. Wine coolers for you and the traditional beer for us," Paul grinned.

"Thanks, guys. That was a lot of fun. I'm glad we met up with you this morning. Looks like we all play the same kind of golf," Carolyn said.

"All except Doreen. She beat us all soundly," I joked.

"See ... women can play this game," Carolyn laughed.

"Just a bit of good luck. Hey, I had two pars today. That's a new record for me," Doreen enthused.

"Good for you. You played very well after you loosened up," I said, almost instantly regretting how it might have sounded.

Doreen looked at me for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah. It did take me a few holes to feel comfortable."

"Is that because of us?" I asked, trying not to be confrontational.

Again, she gave me the 'look, ' "Maybe. I thought you two might be a couple of hot shots that would make us look bad."

"Well, I guess you saw that wasn't the case pretty quickly," Paul laughed.

"Yeah. Well ... anyway ... I had a good time, and you guys were good to play with," Doreen said, facing me.

"Thanks. Maybe we can do it again sometime," Paul ventured.

"Maybe," Carolyn grinned.

I reached for my wallet and pulled out one of my business cards, pushing it across the table to Doreen.

"That's my card. If you'd like to e-mail your résumé, my web address is on there. Otherwise, drop it by the shop and I'll show you around if you're interested."

"Are you looking for an office manager?" she asked.

"No. Not an office manager. But you never know. I may know of an opening that might suit you ... if you were interested."

Again, that semi-stare of hers, like she was trying to measure me ... or figure out what I was up to. At that moment, I was doing the same thing with myself. What was I up to?

"Okay. Thanks," she said, putting the card in her pocket.

Again, we thanked them for their companionship, and said goodbye.

"You get Doreen's phone number?" Paul asked as we got in the car.

"No. Didn't think of it."

"That's because you aren't thinking like a single guy yet."

"Could be. It looked like you got Carolyn's number, though."

"Oh yeah, I got that early. We're having dinner tonight, and then ... well ... who knows," he grinned.

"You don't waste any time, do you?"

"I knew within fifteen minutes that she was hot to trot. She packs a few extra pounds on her, but most of them are in very interesting places."

I shook my head. "You're right. I'm not thinking like a single guy. I think I've forgotten more than I remember about dating."

"This isn't dating, man ... this is hooking up," he smirked. "Dating comes when I decide if I want to get to know her even better."

"I think you and I have very different approaches."

"So, what did you think of Doreen? She seemed pretty uptight to me. Like you said, it took a while for her to lighten up."

"I thought we were in for a long afternoon when we first met, but after a while, she kind of relaxed and started to be herself. She seemed very suspicious of us ... me anyway. She might have some guy issues from a previous encounter."

"Yeah. That's possible. What was the business card thing all about?"

"Well, it was one way for her to get a hold of me if she wanted to. Also, she mentioned she wasn't very happy in her current job. I got the impression she could do a lot more than just run an office full of women. It got me thinking about what I needed to expand the business again. I was thinking more of an administrative manager than an office manager."

"She doesn't know squat about autobody I'll bet."

"No ... but that's not necessarily a deal breaker. I need some organizational skills just as much as shop talent. I'm doing everything myself, as you already know. She might be the right combination, plus strong enough to work in an all-male environment. Just thinkin' right now."

Thursday, June 25^th, 11:45am

"Better Than New, Val speaking."

"Oh ... uhhm ... Hi Val, it's Doreen Gordon. We met at the golf course last Saturday."

"Yes, of course. How are you, Doreen?"

"Fine. I mean, okay, but to be honest, I'm about at my wit's end with this job. You said you might know about something that would suit me better. I wonder if we could meet and talk about it."

"Absolutely. What's convenient for you?"

"Well, I'd really rather not make it obvious around here that I'm looking. Can we meet after hours?"

"Sure, I understand. Look, why don't you come to the shop on Saturday morning, about ten o'clock. I can show you around and we can talk. Will that work for you?"

"Yes. That will be fine. Do I understand that this job would be at your company?"

"Yes. I'll tell you what I'm thinking when we meet. I think you've got the right credentials to handle what I'm looking for. It's just a matter of whether we both think it's a good fit."

"All right. I'll see you on Saturday morning at ten."

"I'll be here. Thanks for calling."

I sat back in my chair and allowed myself a small smile. She had called me on my invitation, and now it was up to me to spit out what I was thinking. I had better get my act together before she showed up.

Saturday, June 27^th, 9:50am

"Good morning," I said with a big smile as Doreen stepped into the office.

"Hi. I'm a bit early. I can wait if you're busy," she hastened, her face revealing a nervous look.

"No ... no, you're fine. Come in and have a seat," I said, gesturing toward a comfortable chair across the desk from me.

She sat and pushed what appeared to be a résumé across the desk to me, and I picked it up.

"Sounds like you've had a tough week when you called."

"Yes, although I suppose once I thought about quitting and changing jobs, my tolerance threshold dropped. I'm pretty certain I won't be there by the end of this year."

"How long have you worked for them?"

"Nearly ten years. I've been the office manager for just about three years."

"Has it always been like the way it is now?"

"My promotion brought it to a head. When I first started, I thought I could change it. Make it better. But ... I guess that isn't something I'm good at. I've tried every approach I can think of, but nothing seems to change. I think part of the problem is that Beeson isn't doing very well in this economy, and that puts pressure on everyone from the top down."

"Yeah, I know the company. Warren Beeson II owns it, but lets his son Warren III run it."

"Exactly. He's no genius. Wanders around like he's king of the hill most of the time. His father ought to kick his butt out and run it himself again."

I laughed. "Sounds like you have the same opinion of 'Trip' that I do."

"How do you know him?"

"Oh, it's a long story. I'll tell you about it some time. Anyway, we were going to talk about an opportunity for you, not your boss," I grinned.