His Uptown Girl by Gail Sattler

about George.”
    Bob turned around, about to contradict his friend, but the second he opened his mouth, Bart started laughing.
    â€œGive it up, Bob. Nothing you say can change the truth. I can tell. You’ve got George on the brain.”
    Bob gritted his teeth and tromped back to the car he was working on. “Ma fatti affari tuoi,” he muttered.
    Bart laughed louder. “Have I touched a nerve, Roberto?” he asked, rolling his R s as he spoke, just as Bob’s Italian-born mother did, because Bart knew it annoyed him. “Would you like to repeat that? In English?”
    Bob spun around. “I said, I wish you would mind your own business.”
    Bart chuckled again. “I hope I haven’t pushed my luck, but speaking of business, I need a favor.”
    â€œWhat?” Bob snapped as he crossed his arms over his chest.
    â€œI can’t go to the Chamber of Commerce dinner. Anna didn’t realize it was tonight, and she bought tickets for a play. She got dinner reservations, a babysitter and everything. Can you go for me?”
    Bob tapped the socket wrench repeatedly into his palm as he contemplated Bart’s request. It was part of their agreement as partners that Bart would attend the few social functions related to their business, and Bob would meet with their suppliers. Occasionally they reversed the roles, but it hadn’t taken long to see that Bart did better in group situations, and Bob did better working one-on-one.
    But he couldn’t turn down his friend’s request.
    â€œYeah. I can go for you.”
    One corner of Bart’s mouth turned up. “Actually, I was thinking…. Why don’t you ask George? You know you hate handling this stuff alone.”
    Bob glanced at George, who was haggling with a customer over the price of an overhaul. She was good with people, of that there was no doubt. Bob thought he would enjoy going to the Chamber banquet with George, those Thursday-evening dinners were fun and a chance to talk about what was happening at work. It may have been a bit odd, but they both found they needed—and wanted—the break from the shop.
    But there were times they didn’t talk strictly business, and it was those times that gave Bob pause about asking her to accompany him. Every time Tyler took her to another “event,” she spent a large part of the next Thursday evening complaining bitterly to Bob, both about Tyler and about the evenings. She always thanked Bob profusely for letting her vent her frustration, making him feel as if he’d been at least helpful.
    It would have been nice not to go to the Chamber banquet by himself, but Bob knew George didn’t enjoy such things.
    He turned back to Bart. “It’s okay. It’s only a couple of hours. I’ll go alone.”

Chapter Seven
    G eorgette walked into the boutique with the bag containing her father’s latest purchase tucked under her arm. She sucked in a deep breath and made her way to the counter.
    â€œI’d like to exchange this dress,” she said to the clerk, who frowned making it very clear that the store didn’t approve of returns.
    â€œOf course. What seems to be the problem?”
    â€œI really don’t like it. I want to exchange it for something more suitable. I need something classic and more understated.” In other words, Georgette wanted something that would help her fade into the woodwork.
    The clerk pulled the dress out of the bag. Her frown deepened. “This is odd. A gentleman bought this dress yesterday…” her voice trailed off. “Wait. William Ecklington bought this. You must be Georgette.” She extended one hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”
    Georgette smiled politely. They had met once before, but in the shadow of her father, the woman had barely acknowledged her presence. “It’s a pleasure to meetyou, too. I have no idea how much my father paid for