Be My Neat-Heart

Be My Neat-Heart by Judy Baer Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: Be My Neat-Heart by Judy Baer Read Free Book Online
Authors: Judy Baer
his sister to fill out if she wants to hire me.” I studied my list of supplies to make sure I had everything I’d need if I actually took thisassignment—markers, label maker, empty files, see-through containers, garbage bags, catalogues of shelf organizers and office supplies. “I’m simply going to meet the sister. Together we will decide if she’d like me to work with her.”
    â€œIt doesn’t sound to me like she has much say in the matter.” Theresa snapped her gum. “Fired by her own brother from her own company. Wicked. I wonder what she did to deserve this.”
    My thoughts exactly. I hadn’t even met the woman I was supposed to assist and I was already enraged at the way she was being treated. In my family, we went to the mat for one another. I couldn’t imagine either of my brothers doing anything like this to me. I know what it is to be the adored little sister—it doesn’t involve being kicked out of a family business. What kind of jerk was this Hamilton guy, anyway? I’m even annoyed with myself for thinking he was good-looking now that I know what he’s up to. I usually have better taste than that.
    â€œNext step, his royal highness and the command performance,” I muttered.
    Â 
    I was early, I realized as I drove south on France Avenue. Hamilton’s office wasn’t far from Benjamin’s home. Impulsively, I turned the corner and headed for Ben’s place. He usually works at home on Thursdays and since I didn’t want to arrive too early at Hamilton and Hamilton, it was a logical stop.
    Ben’s place is a sophisticated junkyard as far as I’m concerned. Sophisticated because everything he collects involves circuitry, wires, computer chips and other scientific-looking litter. He also amasses huge numbers of books with titles so dull and dry that I’m stumped as to where he finds them all. It’s probable that someone in his family wrote them. For example, until I met Ben, I never knew how many kinds of physics therewere—quantum, classical, conceptual, particle, statistical, thermal, nuclear—the exhilarating list goes on and on.
    Ben’s thinking of naming the book he’s writing Aristotle, Einstein, Murphy’s Law and Little Old Me. I’m sure it will read like a thriller compared to the others on his shelf. Meanwhile his house is still a junkyard. Ben can wire together an electric razor and a vacuum cleaner and have the thing clean the carpets and turn them from shag into plush at the same time but he can’t find a way to corral wire nuts, microchips or the tiny scraps of paper on which ideas for brilliant new inventions are written. Ben would have invented a cure for the common cold by now if only he could find the deposit slip on which he wrote the idea when it first came to him.
    â€œHey!” I called from the doorway. “Anybody here?”
    â€œJust us mice.” Ben appeared from his bedroom with a book under one arm. He was wearing gray sweatpants, a “Scientists Make Connections” T-shirt and a hairdo created by a tornado. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œI’m on my way to meet a client and I thought I’d stop to say hello.”
    â€œIs she cute?” Ben inquired.
    â€œNo date for this weekend, huh?”
    â€œJust thought I’d ask. Want coffee?” Ben looked around dazedly as if he were trying to remember where he had put the coffeepot. “I’ve also got chocolate.”
    Ben knows me too well.
    â€œMaybe some for later. I can’t stay.”
    He turned around and headed for the kitchen. Shortly he came back with a bag of chocolate chips, an Oreo and a large package of assorted miniature candy bars. “What’s your fancy?”
    â€œCandy bars, I think.”
    He thrust the entire bag into my hands. “Enjoy.”
    â€œI can’t take all your candy.”
    â€œYou won’t. I’m working

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