The Secret Lives of Dresses Read Online Free PDF

ballpoint hovering over the first line.
    Their waitress showed up. “Youse guys ready?” She took a pencil from behind her ear. Her Skell T-shirt, with its cartoon-skull logo, was stretched tightly across her chest. Gary seemed to be doing a stress analysis of the fabric. With his eyeballs.
    “I’d like the burger, very rare, with fries, and an iced tea.”
    Gary’s gaze transferred itself regretfully from the T-shirt to the face. “I’ll have the Reuben and a Heineken.”
    “ID.”
    Gary made a big show of pulling out his wallet and showing her his driver’s license.
    “Huh. You’re thirty?”
    “Some people are, you know.”
    The waitress shrugged and wandered off with their order.
    “Very smart, not to drink on the job. Or are you not legal?”
    “I’m twenty.”
    “Ah, undergraduates. Otherwise known as forbidden fruit.”
    Dora didn’t know where to look. Gary picked up his pen again. “Where were we?”
    “Cleaning, we were at cleaning.” Dora focused on the list. She knew she could handle the list.
    “You were at cleaning. I was at beer. Okay. I can call the facilities head about cleaning tomorrow morning. Good.”
    Gary wrote “Cleaning” on the list. At least, Dora thought it was the word “cleaning.” Gary looked up and saw her squinting at it.
    “I know, I have terrible handwriting. It’s a very manly failing, though.”
    “Do you want me to make the list?” Dora asked.
    “Nah, you’ll have to learn to read my scrawl eventually.” He turned the pad around and pushed it across the table. “But move over—I’ll sit next to you, and then at least you won’t have to read it upside down.”
    The booth was slightly too small for two adults to sit side by side, but Gary didn’t seem to notice. His leg pressed against hers.
    Dora went on. “Furniture.”
    Gary wrote down “Furniture.”
    “What’s the budget? Is any of the stuff there still good? Does the university have preferred suppliers? Who has the catalogues? What’s the delivery time? Eight weeks is cutting it a little close to have commercial-grade stuff delivered.”
    “How do you know all this stuff?”
    “My grandma owns a store. . . .” Dora trailed off.
    “My grandma plays bridge in Florida and calls me on my stepbrother’s birthday. She’s kind of losing it.”
    “I’m sorry.” Dora looked down at the list again.
    “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re a lifesaver. I should stop on the way home and buy a lottery ticket, as I’m obviously the luckiest guy at Lymond today.” He looked around the empty restaurant. “Of course, there’s not all that much competition. . . .”
    Dora didn’t know what to say. She took a sip of water.
    “Hey, where’s your iced tea?”
    “Over there.” Dora could see it on the counter.
    “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
    Gary hopped up and walked over to the counter. The waitress intercepted him, and he gestured back to the table. Dora couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the waitress smiled. Gary grabbed the tea and came back, grinning, to sit across from her again.
    “I told her I was going to make you tip me .”
    “I don’t think you tip your boss.”
    “Even if he waits on your table?”
    “That might be a special case.”
    Gary pulled the list across the table. “What’s next?”
    “Stocking. Do you have any invoices from previous years? Catalogues? Does the shop have credit accounts anywhere? What do the students like to eat? Who delivers the hot food, and from where?”
    Gary scribbled. “I think I have a big file from the previous manager.”
    Dora looked at Gary. “I could come by tomorrow and look at the file . . . maybe make some calls. I bet some of them have online catalogues. I could call the suppliers while you figure out the cleaning stuff.”
    “Sounds like a plan.” Gary looked at her consideringly. “I am beginning to think that you are the kind of girl a man could come to rely on, Dora Winston.”
    Before Dora could