CHAPTER2
Annabella Montgomery
“Dad, I’m not on the schedule. You told me to take the weekend off and enjoy myself,” I said as I stripped off my bikini, pulled my black slacks out of the laundry basket, and searched for a clean white blouse.
“Annabella, I cannot help it,” he said on speakerphone. “Rick called out sick and this is a good customer. I cannot call them and cancel,” he said.
I’m not sure I want to know which needy customer this is. Guess I’ll find out.We had a handful of clients who believed they were the most important people in the world and everyone should drop whatever they were doing and cater to them. Dad could smile through it, but I was having an increasingly difficult time. Money didn’t define a person’s worth. I’d met plenty of rich people I didn’t want to befriend.
“Annabella, if I wasn’t already booked with a wedding party, I’d do it myself. I know how hard you’ve been working lately. I’m sorry to have to ask you to change your plans last minute. I wish there was another way,” he said.
I know he meant it, but this was the problem with working for family. When I answered the phone, I never knew if it was business or pleasure. Even his tone pulled at my heart and he probably knew it.I should’ve let it go to voicemail.
It seemed like every summer day off work, it rained, and I didn’t get to spend it reading on the beach like I’d love to. Apparently, I wasn’t going to today, either. No matter how badly I wanted to tell him no, I couldn’t. He needed me and I knew it.
“Okay, Dad, I’ll do it, but I might be a few minutes late.”
“Why? You’re never late,” he said.
“I’m searching for something to wear. I thought I had time off, so I didn’t do laundry last night,” I admitted. Not only was it wedding season, but the last few weeks had been full of proms, too.
“I don’t care what you wear, just get to the airport and pick up Mr. Marzoni. He has a meeting he cannot miss,” he explained.
“I’ll be there. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure Mr. Marzoni arrives at his meeting on time,” I said. Deep in the corner of my closet I spotted one white blouse I hadn’t worn in a while. “I found a clean uniform, so I’ll look the part too.”
“That’s my girl. I knew I could count on you,” he said.
“Love you Dad, but I have to get dressed or I won’t make it to the airport before rush hour,” I said.
“Thank you, Annabella. I promise, next weekend I won’t disturb you,” he said.
That was a promise he couldn’t keep, because I was already scheduled to work, but he meant well. This was his busiest season, and he was doing all this so someday it would be mine. What he didn’t understand was - I didn’t want the limo business. I didn’t want to live in New England. I was done with cold winters. Somehow, I’d have to make him stop long enough for us to have the conversation we’d both been dreading.
Don’t have to worry about it this weekend. Now neither of us have time for it.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, baby girl,” he said before ending the call.
I quickly finished dressing, grabbed my keys and headed out the door. There was no time to waste looking in the mirror. I still needed to pick up the limo from the garage and make sure there was enough fuel in it.
Thankfully, Dad was meticulous when it came to such details and the limo was ready and waiting for me. Twenty minutes later, I was parked at the airport, standing beside my vehicle and holding a sign that read MARZONI. A man in a fine suit exited the terminal. He looked about seventy years of age and was approaching. I smiled and waved, but he just nodded and walked past me. There were a few businessmen who also fit, what I considered, the criteria. None of them acknowledged my sign. I looked at my watch and knew I couldn’t have missed him. I had been several minutes early. Was it possible Mr. Marzoni had missed his plane, or even changed his mind? If that was the case, I’d like to think he’d have called the office and notified us.
I hope they got a credit card number because your ass is getting charged.
I waited another fifteen minutes and still no one showed. I wasn’t about to wait all morning. He might be a good customer, but he still needed to respect our company’s time. I let the sign fall to my side and turned back to the limo. Just then, a tall, muscular man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt approached me.
“I guess you’re my ride,” he said.
His bodybuilder physique really threw me.This is not the stuffy businessman I expected.“Mr. Marzoni?” I asked, knowing he had the wrong transportation.
“Yes. Sorry, I’m late. I wanted to grab these first,” he said, holding up a huge bouquet of flowers.
I couldn’t wrong him for trying to impress whomever he was going to meet. If anything, I felt a twinge of jealousy. I’d been chauffeuring couples from their weddings and proms, and on all sorts of luxurious dates, all of which I only got to listen to and dream of.
Opening the car door for him I responded, “Then we ought to get going before they start to wilt.”
He nodded, tossing his bag into the limo before climbing inside. I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s seat. The privacy screen was down, and he asked, “Do you need the address?”