Frank Flanagan eased back from his desk. The last couple of weeks had retaught him

why he hated paperwork. He closed the last file and put it in his out basket. Miss Rich

could file it in the morning. He stood and stretched. Cracking in his back answered

him. He shook his head slowly, listening to the bones in his necks snapping.

It would be a month before Rydell got his first real court appearance. He had paid his

bail and was free. He called Flanagan to let him know the bad news.

Flanagan had informed him that if anything happened while Rydell was waiting for

his trial, he would put a bullet in the man himself.

And he wouldn’t go to jail over an obvious case of self-defense.

The call had sparked another call to Westwood to hire security to keep an eye on

things until the court case was settled.

Blowing up the factory might be the next move to get even. That would hurt the

company now that they were putting things together for the government. Production

couldn’t be halted if they wanted to make their deadline.

He made sure that Miss Rich had a bodyguard. He couldn’t keep anything organized

without her. And she knew about the armor, and hadn’t said anything. That was worth

its weight in gold.

Flanagan decided he would eat at a diner on the way to the factory. He didn’t want

to go home, and he had some notes he had to go over for another concoction that

wasn’t quite coming together. He felt he was three, or four, arrangements from a

solution to the problem.

He would probably get some sleep in the lab when he finished.

“Are you done for the night, Mr. Flanagan?,” asked Miss Rich.

“I think so,” said Flanagan. He paused and squinted at his secretary. She had changed

clothes. He wondered why.

“Good,” said Miss Rich. “Come along. Norbert is driving us to dinner and a movie.”

“Norbert?,” said Flanagan. He searched his brain, but he didn’t know any Norbert.

“Norbert who?”

“Norbert who is stuck taking me back and forth to my apartment,” said Miss Rich.

“The gossips think he’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh, Westwood’s guy,” said Flanagan. “His name is Norbert?”

“Yes,” said Miss Rich. “Get your jacket. He’s driving us on our date.”

“Date?,” said Flanagan. “I’m lost.”

“You promised a dinner and a movie,” said Miss Rich. “I’m collecting. Come on.

Norbert is downstairs waiting on us.”

“I don’t remember that,” said Flanagan. “And anyway I have to do some work at my

lab.”

“Not tonight,” said Miss Rich. She waved her hand. “It’s on me.”

“You’re paying?,” said Flanagan. “You’re taking me out on a date? Can you afford

that?”

“I have money put aside,” said Miss Rich. “Chop, chop, mister. I don’t have all

night.”

“Are you sure?,” said Flanagan. He plucked his suit jacket from the hook on the wall.

“I’m not really a dating kind of guy.”

“I know,” said Miss Rich. “One date won’t kill you. Live a little.”

“I have done that already,” said Flanagan. “It didn’t strike me as better than working

in my lab where people weren’t trying to kill me.”

“It wasn’t a lot of fun for me either,” said Miss Rich. “Busting into Rydell’s house

like you did saved me from being hurt more than what had already happened. If you

hadn’t called, the majority of the company would have been seized by the state.”

“That was a pleasure,” said Flanagan. “I would do it all over again if I had to.”

“How many bosses would do that?,” said Miss Rich. “You can always get a new

secretary from the pool downstairs.”

“Don’t believe that,” said Flanagan. “Before I hired you, I went through dozens of

secretaries.”

“Dozens?,” said Miss Rich. She picked up her bag as they walked to the office door.

“At least,” said Flanagan. “They came in, worked a month, then went somewhere

else. I just signed the transfer requests when they came across my desk.”

“And you had no idea why they left?,” said Miss Rich.

“No,” said Flanagan. He cut off the lights after opening the hall door so they could

step outside. He locked the door behind him.

The cleaning staff could only enter his sanctum when one of them was in residence.

Otherwise, he didn’t want anyone poking around.

“Being the secretary of the boss is prestigious, but none of them stayed,” said Miss

Rich. She shook her head. “You worked them too hard.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I did not,” said Flanagan. “They didn’t have to work unless I was working.”

“And when was the last time you took time off to go golfing, or sailing, or whatever

rich people do?,” said Miss Rich.

“Never,” said Flanagan. “That’s for people who don’t have to work.”

“It’s no wonder you couldn’t keep a secretary with that attitude,” said Miss Rich. “Let

me guess, you were here on the weekends and they had to come in too.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” said Flanagan. He scratched an

eyebrow before pushing the call button on the elevator.

“Some people like to have time off to do personal things,” said Miss Rich. “You

worked your secretaries too hard and they quit on you.”

“That can’t be true,” said Flanagan. “You haven’t quit, and you have been here longer

than anyone else.”

“I don’t have a life outside my job either,” said Miss Rich. “I just go home, read

some, listen to the radio, and go to bed.”

“No boyfriends?,” asked Flanagan.

“How would I meet a boyfriend when I am almost never at home,” said Miss Rich.

“If a thief were to break into my place right now, all I have is my radio.”

“Sounds lonely,” said Flanagan.

“Maybe,” said Miss Rich. “What about you? You just go to your lab and work on

things until you hit a wall. Then you come to work in the office with smoke rolling

off your hair half the time.”

“Sometimes there are small problems to deal with while trying to figure things out,”

said Flanagan.

“Really?,” said Miss Rich. “Is that what happened with the purple clothes?”

“I was looking for a formula to build bulletproof cloth and it works,” said Flanagan.

“The jacket I was wearing stopped a bullet without any additional protection. The

armor did better than that. Now if I could figure out how to strap rockets to it so the

wearer could fly, that would be worth some money.”

“Are you going to keep wearing it?,” asked Miss Rich.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Flanagan pushed the button to

take them to the lobby.

“Why would I do that?,” said Flanagan. “Being a hero is dangerous work, and I’m not

a hero.”

“So you wouldn’t wear it again?,” said Miss Rich.

“Maybe if there was something I could do to help out and the suit was needed,” said

Flanagan. “But there are already so many masked men out there doing things. They

can do that sort of work better than I can.”

“I don’t think so,” said Miss Rich. “I think the world could always use one more

protector.”

“You’re giving me way too much credit,” said Flanagan. “I am a yellow belly all the

way through.”

“I don’t think so,” said Miss Rich. “I think you put it down to saving the company,

but you really acted like a hero, and you really did some good.”

“We’ll see how much good I did if Rydell beats his charges,” said Flanagan. “Then

we’ll be dealing with him again, and he won’t be so friendly.”

“We can take him,” said Miss Rich. “We’ve already beaten him once.”

“That sounds okay,” said Flanagan. “Since you’re buying, where are we eating?”

“I think Joe’s,” said Miss Rich.

“Joe’s?,” said Flanagan. “Why Joe’s?”

“Because I can afford it,” said Miss Rich.

“We can do better than Joe’s,” said Flanagan.

“Where would you like to eat?,” asked Miss Rich. She crossed her arms as she waited

for his suggestion.

“There’s Marge’s on the way to the factory,” said Flanagan. “I eat there all the time.”

“Really?,” said Miss Rich.

“And it’s cheap,” said Flanagan. “That’s why I eat there.”

“All right,” said Miss Rich. “That sounds like the main criteria is satisfied. We’ll go

to the show afterwards if we can get back to the city early enough.”

“That’s fine,” said Flanagan. “What show would you like to see?”

“I don’t know,” said Miss Rich. “I haven’t been to a play in a long time.”

“We’ll think of something,” said Flanagan. He nodded when the elevator door

opened. “I admit I haven’t been on a date in ever. This is a totally new side of you.

When did this come up as an idea? There are so many other men who are better

qualified for something like this.”

“I don’t know any of those men,” said Miss Rich. “There’s Norbert.”

A man the size of a redwood stood at the door of the lobby. His suit must have been

sewed from sailcloth and tents to fit him. He nodded a solemn face at the

pronunciation of his name.

“This is Mr. Flanagan, Norbert,” said Miss Rich. “We’re going to have dinner and a

show. Would you be so kind as to drive us?”

“It would be a pleasure, ma’am,” said Norbert. His voice rumbled like a grizzly

looking for dinner. “The car is outside. I’ll go first, and then you two.”

He stepped outside, looked both ways, then went to the car. He opened the back door.

He waved for his passengers to come down. He made sure Miss Rich got in first.

“Treat her right, buddy, or I’ll rip your arms off,” Norbert whispered in Flanagan’s

ear as he helped him in the car. He closed the back door before Flanagan could

protest.

The bodyguard climbed in the front seat and drove away from the curb.

“Mr. Flanagan would like to eat at a place called Marge’s,” said Miss Rich. “Would

you mind taking us there, Norbert?”

“It will be my pleasure,” said Norbert. He drove cautiously south. He seemed to check

for problems as they cleared the city and reached the state line.

Marge’s neon sign glowed red against a clean window with a curtain to block out the

sun. There were three cars in the parking lot. Norbert pulled into a space where he

could watch all three while he waited for the couple to eat.

He got out and looked around before opening the door for Miss Rich. He helped her

out of the car. He escorted her to the door of the diner. He checked the inside through

the window in the door before opening the door for her. He walked in and watched

the room while Miss Rich talked to the lady running the register.

Flanagan followed, keeping an eye on things as he stepped inside. He nodded at some

of the wait staff he knew as Miss Rich took his arm and led him to an empty booth

in a corner of the room.

“Norbert doesn’t want me to sit by windows until things are settled down,” said Miss

Rich. “He’s like a giant mother hen.”

“That’s why I hired him,” said Flanagan. He smiled. He noted that he could watch the

room with a mirror set up on the back wall and relaxed. If anything happened, he

would have some warning to move.

“Hello, hon,” said a waitress in a pink dress. She put down two menus and two

glasses of water with practiced ease. “What can I do for you folks?”

“My wife would like one of your famous steaks and a baked potato,” said Flanagan.

“I would like the grilled turkey slices and the mac and cheese.”

“What would you like to drink?,” said the waitress. This was the first she had heard

of a wife and it showed on her thin face.

“I would like coffee,” said Flanagan.

“I would like tea if you have it,” said Miss Rich.

“Sure do, hon,” said the waitress. She wrote their order down on a pad as she walked

away.

“So I’m your wife now?,” said Miss Rich. She smiled.

“I accept your proposal,” said Flanagan. He drew out a little box from his suit pocket.

He handed it to her. “I had to guess at the size.”

She opened the lid of the box. A diamond glowed up at her. She closed the lid with

wide eyes.

“Are you serious?,” asked Miss Rich.

“I am,” said Flanagan. “I won’t be a perfect husband, but I will do the best that I can.”

“All right,” said Miss Rich. She took the ring out of the box and put it on her hand.

“Let’s have dinner and a movie and see where this goes because I know I’m not wife

material either.”

Flanagan looked at the mirror and saw Norbert nodding his head by the front door.