Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“No! Absolutely not!” Gracie stared disdainfully at her reflection in the mirror. “I look like a mini you ,” she groaned.

Gertrude straightened to her full height. “You look professional.” She stepped up behind Gracie and started adjusting her suit.

Gracie cocked her head. “Shh, listen. You hear that?”

“What?”

“The 1980s are calling, and they want their shoulder pads back.”

Gertrude’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle a snicker.

“See, even you know it’s true.” Gertrude had done the wave thing and clothed her in a brown dress suit, which came a good two inches below her knees. She was wearing coco-colored pantyhose and clodhopper shoes that looked like they came out of a thrift store. To make matters worse, she’d done Gracie’s hair in a severe bun that was pulling her head so tight she could hardly blink.

“You can’t be serious. This is hideous. I thought you said Stewart owned a savvy advertising agency.”

“He does.”

“Well, this getup is not going to work. I look old and dowdy in this dress—bargain basement special.”

Gertrude crossed her arms over her chest. “You cannot go dressed in your usual teenybopper leggings and long sweater.”

She threw up her hands. “Well, I can’t go like this either!” She eyed Gertrude. “You know, you’re starting to remind me a little too much of my mother … and that’s not a good thing.”

“Fine, we’ll compromise.” She waved her hand, and suddenly Gracie was wearing a black skirt, white button-up shirt, and black pumps. “How’s that?”

“Better. Now, shorten the skirt to right above my knees.”

Gertrude looked appalled. “No, inappropriate.”

“I’m training to be an angel, not a nun.” She motioned. “Shorter please.”

She blew out a breath and waved her hand.

“Thank you. Much better.” She looked down. “Now change these nude pantyhose to something with a pattern … maybe crisscrossed … black.”

Another wave, and it was done.

“The shoes. I need something stylish.”

“I’ll have you know those were the height of fashion in my day.” She gave Gracie a steely look.

Her hands flew to her hips. “Exactly. Get me into the twenty-first century. I’m thinking a chunky sandal of some sort.”

She gawked. “With pantyhose?”

“Tights. We call them tights.”

“You can’t wear open-toed sandals with tights because you’ll see the toe line.”

Who would’ve thought getting dressed for an interview would be such a big fiasco? “Fine! Make the sandals close-toed.”

She waved her hand.

Gracie rolled her eyes. “A little more of a heel … please?” She looked down, pleased to see that it was done. “Now, the shirt.”

Irritation stewed in Gertrude’s eyes. “What’s wrong with the shirt?”

Trying to bargain with Gertrude was like trying to tango with a porcupine—sharp jabs at every turn. She pulled at it. “It would be perfect … if I were twenty pounds heavier.” She sighed. “You know, this would be so much easier if you would just lend me your powers again.”

“Nice try, but I don’t think so.” She shuddered. “The last time was disastrous.”

“Just because I made one teensy mistake, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give me another chance. I can be responsible,” Gracie pouted, thrusting out her lower lip.

“Hah! A small mistake? That was a huge mistake that could’ve ruined everything.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not even up for discussion. Now, back to the shirt. I don’t know why you young people always insist on wearing clothes that are a size too small. Very unflattering.” When Gracie made a face, she acquiesced and waved her hand.

“Thank you, Gertie. Much better.” She smiled inwardly when she saw Gertrude cringe. She hated to be called Gertie, which was precisely why she did it. Critically, she studied her reflection in the mirror. “Now, I need some stylish jewelry. Maybe something red to set off the black and white.” She touched her hair. “Oh, and the bun has to go. Even my grandmother wouldn’t have worn this.” She shuddered. “Dreadful.”

“We have to do something different with your hair. Otherwise, Brooke will recognize you.”

“How about something short and sassy?”

Gertrude did her thing and a minute later, she was sporting a super short, austere haircut.

“Wow! This is really different.” She wrinkled her nose. “I hate it! My face is too round for straight hair. I look like the Goodyear Blimp,” she moaned. “I need the curls. And this ash color makes me look anemic. Make me a brunette if you must, but give me a few blonde highlights. Nothing too tame though. I like the messy look.”

Gertrude gave her a disapproving look. “Do you always have to be so difficult?”

“Just because I want to look attractive, doesn’t mean I’m difficult,” she slung back.

Gertrude made the changes.

Gracie ran a hand through the voluminous, sun-kissed curls that came to her chin. “Thank you,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Much better.”

“Now, remember. Don’t go in and start blabbering. I know it’s difficult, but you need to act dignified.” She grasped her shoulders. “And remember to stand up straight! Don’t slouch!”

“Geez! Okay, you don’t have to be so anal about it.”

Gertrude gave her a warning look that suggested she was way out of line, but she didn’t care. Gertrude was tromping on her last nerve!

“Are you sure I’ll be able to type when I’m in there?”

She sighed. “Yes, I told you, I’ve taken care of that.”

She held up her fingers and inspected them. “I hope so because they feel exactly the same as before.”

She huffed. “Trust me!”

“How about my résumé?”

“Oh, yes.” She waved a hand.

Gracie looked at the sheet of paper that had appeared in her hand. “And all of these references will check out?”

“Yes. I’ve arranged everything.” She spoke deliberately as if she were speaking to a child. “You’re the most qualified candidate, and your references are impeccable. All you have to do is go in there and act professional. I’ve done the hard part.” She flashed an impatient smile. “Go to it. Show me what you can do.”

As it turned out, it took three tries for Gracie to get it right. Her first time into Stewart Matthew’s office, she tripped over the rug and landed in a heap beside his desk. Unfortunately, as she was falling, she reached out in an attempt to catch herself and knocked over his coffee mug, dousing him with the hot liquid. Before she even had a chance to utter an apology, Gertrude rewound time and made her do it again. On the second go around, her mind went completely blank when he asked about her experience in the advertising industry. She forgot everything she’d memorized and ended up blurting out that her real name was Gracie and she’d been a struggling actress before her untimely death. Not the best way to make a good first impression.

By the third go-around, she was at her wits end. Tearfully, she told Gertrude that it was no use. She was a lost cause. To Gertrude’s credit, she listened patiently to all of Gracie’s ranting and raving and then explained in no uncertain terms that she would rewind time a hundred times if necessary. “You will get this right,” she said with a determined look in her eye. “And you won’t quit!”

There was no use in arguing with Gertrude when her mind was made up. The only thing Gracie could do at that point was succeed. Knowing she had endless opportunities to redo the interview took away the jitters. She went into her actress mode and pretended to be the best assistant on the planet. It worked like a charm, and she got the job.

Here she was, two weeks later, learning the ropes of advertising. She still had no idea how this job was going to help her find someone for Brooke. Gertrude kept insisting that it was imperative for Gracie to do her utmost to earn Stewart’s confidence. Gracie had lost count of the number of times Gertrude said, “The key to finding someone for Brooke lies with Stewart.” In the end, Gracie had no alternative but to follow Gertrude’s lead, even though she had serious doubts about the whole situation. It was frustrating how Gertrude would put this big plan in motion and then tell her only small portions of it, so that she was left floundering in the dark.

On the upside, the more time she spent around Stewart Matthews, the more she was starting to like him. (Too bad she couldn’t say the same about his wife. She was the spitting image of Brooke and acted just like her!) Compared to his wife and daughter, Stewart was a breath of fresh air. Whippersnapper thin with a take-charge, no-nonsense personality, he ran a tight ship. It was apparent even in the short time she’d been at the agency that his employees respected him. His once blonde hair was now streaked with silver, but it was still relatively thick considering his age. His skin was freckled and leathery due to a lifetime spent golfing in the Texas sun. Nevertheless, he’d managed to retain his Hollywood looks. He reminded Gracie a little of the present-day Robert Redford. There was an unconquerable spirit about Stewart that suggested the word defeat was not in his vocabulary. He’d built his agency from the ground up, starting with nothing. He was fiercely devoted to his wife and daughter, wanting only the best for them. In his attempt to give them everything he’d lacked, he spoiled them rotten. It was no wonder that Brooke was such a monster. Her every whim had been catered to. The very thought of Brooke caused a scowl to form on her face. She forced her mind back to Stewart. His open manner was refreshing. He spoke with a Southern drawl and called things as they were. (She was supposed to be from California, so it took effort not to speak in her native accent.) Working for such a man gave her a sense of empowerment she’d not felt in a very long time. She had to keep reminding herself that her job at the agency was merely a cover—a means to an end, not the end itself. Although, she wouldn’t mind staying in this position for a few months. At least Gertrude had given her an assignment she could do. It was proving to be easier than she thought to gain Stewart’s confidence. He was a big talker and shared many things with her, including his hurt and disappointment over Dawson. Not only had Dawson broken Brooke’s heart, but also, he left the agency in the lurch. Stewart confided that he was deeply worried about Brooke’s lack of direction. He went so far as to admit that he was partly to blame for Brooke’s behavior because he’d made things too easy for her.

“Excuse me.”

Gracie’s face drained when she looked up and realized Brooke was standing in front of her desk.

“You must be Daddy’s new secretary.”

She just sat there, tongue-tied.

Disapproval was plainly written on Brooke’s face as she looked Gracie up and down. “You’re not what I expected.” She tilted her head. “A little young. Do you have a name?”

“What?”

“A name.” She flipped her hair. “What is your name?” There was a vexed expression on her face that suggested she didn’t like repeating herself.

Gracie leveled a glare as she sat up taller in her seat. “The name’s Alice.” Alarm pulsed through Gracie when she saw the puzzled look on Brooke’s face. Not good. Not good at all.

“Have we met before?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Gracie said quickly, “I recently moved here from California.”

Brooke looked unconvinced. “You remind me of someone.”

Before she could venture too far down memory lane, Gracie stood. “I’m sure your dad will be thrilled to see you. He’s always talking about you.” She forced a polite smile. “You’re the apple of your father’s eye.”

Most people would’ve acknowledged the compliment with a simple thank you, but not Brooke. Instead, she merely sniffed. It was all Gracie could do to keep her expression impassive. She motioned. “Shall we?”

Just before they reached Stewart’s door, Brooke turned to her. “The inn in Utah.” She frowned. “What was her name?” Recognition lit her face. “Gracie.” She gave Gracie a scorching look. “Where did you say you were from?”

“California.”

“What part?”

“Southern California,” Gracie said, trying to keep it vague.

“You’re not from Utah?”

Gracie chuckled. “Not hardly.”

“You remind me so much of this woman I met there. Her hair was different. Same eyes though. Same bone structure. Same build,” she mused, studying Gracie.

“Well, I hope it was someone you liked,” Gracie spouted. It was a cheap shot, but she couldn’t help herself.

Brooke’s eyes went large the moment before a nasty scowl twisted over her face. “No, she was spiteful and mean! I hated her!”

Gracie feigned surprise. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. Hate is such a strong word.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Brooke’s eyes cut into hers. “I loathed her. She had this fake British accent that grated on my nerves.” A snaky smile slithered over her lips. “Although I wonder what Little Miss England would say, if she knew I was going out with the guy she was crushing on.” Her voice grew conspiratorial as she leaned in. “Talk about a tiger!” She trilled her tongue. “He’s really something.”

The temperature in the room seemed to heat up at warp speed as Gracie went hot all over. Oh, how she wanted to punch Brooke into next week! She couldn’t tell how sure Brooke was that she was indeed the woman from the inn. But she was baiting her nonetheless, probably hoping to get Gracie so angry that she would react and blow her cover. Mentally, she counted to ten in an effort to calm herself down. How was she supposed to help this wench when what she really wanted to do was wring her skinny neck? She flashed an innocent smile. “I know we’ve only just met, but you seem so charming and sweet. I can’t imagine anyone being spiteful and mean to you.” The words flowed out like honey over buttered toast.

The surprised look that flickered over Brooke’s face was immensely satisfying. No doubt, it was one of the rare times anyone had ever called her charming and sweet. At a loss for words, Brooke began blinking rapidly.

Before she could open her treacherous mouth to speak another word, Gracie opened the door. “Stewart, your lovely daughter is here to see you, and I’ve had the distinct pleasure of getting to know her.” She turned to Brooke. “May I get you something to drink? Water? Soda?”

“Nothing for me,” Brooke snapped.

Stewart raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay, sweet pea? You sound upset.”

“I’m fine,” Brooke said, not taking her eyes off Gracie.

As Gracie left the room, she heard Brooke ask, “Daddy, how well do you know your new secretary?”

Half an hour later, Gracie looked up from her desk to see Brooke looming over her. “I know it’s you,” she sneered, leaning into Gracie’s personal space. “Why are you here?”

She slipped on her professional mask. “Well, this is my field of expertise. I needed a job, and SM Creative Agency came highly recommended.”

Fury simmered in Brooke’s eyes. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m going to expose you for the fraud you are.”

Gracie forced a laugh. “I’m not sure how we managed to get off on the wrong foot, but I’m not the enemy here.”

Brooke looked thoughtful. “It’s Sheldon, isn’t it? He dumped you, so you followed him here.”

“Who’s Sheldon?” Gracie asked, as she pasted on a confused look.

“Your innocent act doesn’t fool me one bit.” She gave Gracie a triumphant smile. “Sheldon obviously prefers me.” She pursed her lips. “So give it up and go back to Utah where you belong. Otherwise, I’ll tell my daddy who you really are.”

“Careful,” Gracie warned, meeting her glare, “It’s not smart to bite the hand that feeds you.”

“What?” Her nostrils flared, reminding Gracie of a bull about to charge. “That doesn’t even make sense. Exactly what are you trying to say?”

How easy it would’ve been to dig into Brooke and put her in her place, but it wasn’t wise … or productive. “Look, it’s obvious that you have me confused with someone else,” she said as kindly as she could manage. “I’m your dad’s personal assistant. No more. No less. And as much as I would love to continue our little chat, I have work to do.” Her eyes seared into Brooke’s, and she hoped her challenging expression would convey all that her tongue was not allowed to say.

Brooke’s face went a shade darker, and her eye rolled back in her head as she clenched her fists. For a split second, Gracie feared she might be having a seizure, but then she let out a guttural growl and stomped her foot. Gracie tried to remain expressionless, but she couldn’t hide the trace of amusement in her eyes.

“Oh, you think it’s funny? I’m watching you,” she snarled.

Gracie only smiled. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Brooke,” she said cheerfully, turning her attention back to the computer screen.

Brooke stood there for another minute, glaring, until she finally skulked away.