Mother Load by K.G. MacGregor Page A

front seats. “Just load a favorite movie right here and all the kicking and whining stops. My wife and I are thinking about getting one too.”
    “Why? You only have two kids. You could go anywhere in the CC, or you could get one of the SUVs. You like driving too much to get a minivan. They’re so…pedestrian.” Which was another way of saying she would rather walk.
    “Maybe, but to quote Lourdes, ‘Not everything is about me,’” he said with a laugh. “She likes the idea of giving the kids their own space so they won’t be picking at each other all the time. Plus, she can carpool two more kids, which means she won’t have to drive as often. I’m sold on it. We’re just waiting for a red one with all the features we want.”
    Anna shook her head. Marco was a great salesman, one of her best, but she wasn’t buying his pitch. Who could possibly get a kick out of driving a box over the freeways of Southern California? “I need to talk something over with Dad, and then I’d like for the three of us to go to lunch. Can you do that?”
    “You’re the boss, Anna. I can do whatever you need.”
    She wound through the hallways to her father’s small windowless office in the back, where he sat with his feet up, a phone pinched under his chin. He held up a finger and motioned for her to have a seat. She did, and kicked off her wet shoes. Her father’s help in stabilizing the Volkswagen dealership had been invaluable, especially since she had fired most of the management within days of the acquisition. It was clear he enjoyed getting back to the nuts and bolts of running a business, and that he wasn’t at all cut out for retirement. However, he was getting much more out of his leisure time now that he had grandchildren to occupy his afternoons and weekends away from the office.
    He dropped the receiver in its cradle and scowled at the phone. “No, I don’t want to take advantage of your slash in wholesale prices. I get ten calls a day like that.”
    “Me too. Half the used car dealers in town are liquidating their inventories. I’d be happy to cherry-pick two or three a week, but I don’t need their junk.”
    “So what brings you over to the poor side of the tracks?”
    She chuckled at his choice of words, as there was hardly such a thing as poor in Beverly Hills. “I’ve been hearing rumors that my ops manager’s been cutting out early. Thought I’d come check it out.”
    “Bunch of tattletales. I tell you, you can’t trust anyone these days.”
    “So while you run off to play with the other little boys, Marco has to cover for you. I might as well make him the ops manager.”
    “He’s as capable as anyone. Does this mean you’re firing me?”
    “Yeah, I think I am.” Her tone was unmistakably tongue-in-cheek. “Fact is, I need you back on the BMW lot next week to start teaching Holly Ganesh how to run the business. I want to move her up in two or three years and she needs to know all the things you’ve taught Marco.”
    Her father stood and puffed out his chest righteously, as if playing hard-to-get. “And what if my attention is needed elsewhere…say, about three o’clock on weekday afternoons?” Clearly, he didn’t want to give up his newfound pleasure of playing with Jonah and Andy on those days Martine picked them up after school.
    “Hard to say. Sometimes our afternoons get so busy people might not even notice if you slip out.” She plucked a mint from the candy jar on his desk. “Seriously, Dad, we might need a few more hands on deck for a while now that we’re down to a skeleton crew. If you could take over the ad management for the used cars—”
    “I’ll do anything but go to the Chamber of Commerce meetings. They put me on committees and make me work.”
    She tossed her candy wrapper at him but he batted it away. “I can’t believe you won’t go even when your own daughter is president. But that’s all right. I don’t want your sour disposition out there representing