Love Letters, Inc. by Ec Sheedy Read Free Book Online

motioned Marlene to the one beside his desk.
    "You remember that computerized tee-off system I told you about? The one for the pro shop? Con bought it."
    Kent took a calming breath. "And?"
    "And it's incomprehensible. From the write-up and initial spec sheets, the system actually looks okay. But as you know, I wasn't too keen about it in the first place and now I know why."
    "So, what's the problem?"
    "The documentation. It might as well be written in ancient Aramaic. And because the program's intended to book tee times from the pro shop, the hotel's front desk—and interactively from the rooms—the how-to aspect is critical. Without it we'll have a total screw up on our hands." She paused. "And hell hath no fury like a golfer without his appointed tee time."
    Kent's spine wasn't the only thing straightening as Marlene continued to speak. So were his thoughts. For the first time in a long while, Con York had done something right. Kent tilted back in his swivel chair, looked at the ceiling, and smiled.
    "You're taking this well." Marlene said. "I'd have thought you'd be walking on the ceiling rather than smiling at it."
    "It happens I have a solution to this problem." He stood. "Leave it to me."
    She gave him a questioning glance, shrugged, and stood, then put a sheaf of papers on his desk. "Given that you're in a problem-solving mood, take a look at these. The new wing is now officially over budget and behind schedule. Packard wants to see you tomorrow. To explain things, he says." Packard was the contractor.
    Kent picked up the papers. His gut tensed. Packard was a problem he didn't need. Damn shifty-eyed—
    "What shall I tell him?" Marlene asked.
    "Tell him I can't wait to hear his latest excuse," he said wryly. He pushed a couple of keys on his scheduler. "Tell him six-thirty tomorrow morning."
    "Will do." She hesitated at the door. "I'm having an early dinner in the dining room. Join me?"
    "Not tonight. Thanks. I'll have Mae bring something to my office." He lifted the sheaf of papers she'd given him and dropped them again. "Looks like I'll be here awhile."
    Midnight, at least, he figured. By morning he'd have memorized every number in the file.
    "See you tomorrow then."
    When she'd left, Kent shoved the papers aside. For the moment, his priority was finding the telephone number for MooreWrite Technical Writers, Inc.
    * * *
    Rosie sealed the letter to Gardenia and put it with the one to her mother, one she'd finally finished writing after a week of stops and starts. Of course, she could email or phone her, and mostly did, but she knew her mother enjoyed receiving her breezy handwritten letters as much as she enjoyed writing them. She always mailed them to the hotel, and Rosie could see her mother's smile when this one arrived on her desk.
    Today her envelope of choice was a fluorescent sunrise yellow with a polka dot rainbow. Just the thing to brighten a busy executive's day. Rosie knew it would be the first piece of mail she'd open. In contrast, Gardenia's letter was in a plain white number ten. Very businesslike. She hoped, for Kent's sake, her plan would work.
    She gave the letters a final straightening and went to the window. The day was light gray, the sun a pale glow behind the curtain of cloud. Rosie was certain the sun would take center stage by noon. Her gaze fixed on the dimly lit cloud.
    You should have gone to dinner with him.
    The thought bounced into her head and thudded to a hard stop. She couldn't budge it. While her Lady Brain, rational as always, told her Kent Summerton was a suit and most definitely not the man of her dreams—or her plans—Hormone, the unconscionable tart, put up an argument from below. What suit? she asked. The man didn't even wear a suit. Maybe he didn't wear it on the outside, Lady Brain said knowingly, but inside? A three-piecer, including club tie and wing tips.
    Mom would love him. She could see them now, discussing the economy, management theories, return on investment,