Drive Me Wild. Gwynne Forster

      “How many vacant apartments do we have, Carver?” She wanted to know whether he connected her with Heddy Lloyd.

      “Just one, but I’m told there’re five applicants. We rarely get a vacancy, and an apartment doesn’t remain empty any longer than an ad is posted.”

      “Thank you, Carver.”

      “You’re welcome, ma’am. I hope you’ll be happy here.”

      She introduced herself to the concierge and went to her apartment. Some thoughtful person had placed a chair near the door, and she put her pocketbook and briefcase on the chair and decided to check on the work she ordered. To her delight, the walls and floors in all the rooms and the kitchen were as she requested. She looked out of the living-room window across the avenue and could hardly believe the beauty that her eyes beheld.

      Green trees and the plethora of daffodils, tulips and primroses in a myriad of colors and in well-tended patches brought a gasp from her. The avenue’s parklike center sparkled in its beauty. This was a New York she’d never known. She took a deep breath and went to get her cell phone, hoping that she could capture what she saw in a photograph. She stopped. She hadn’t seen the tiniest shred of paper since she left 125th Street. Her door buzzer rang, and she found it quickly and answered.

      “Your movers have arrived. May I send them up?”

      “Yes. Of course. Thank you.”

      “We have your floor plans, miss. So if you’ll give us some room, we’ll have everything in place shortly.”

      She took the chair and her personal things into the kitchen, sat down and took out her cell phone. Her fingers itched to dial Justin’s number, and she had to work hard at restraining them. Why should she miss him so much? At the sound of her cell phone ringing, she nearly sprang from her chair.

      “Hello.”

      “This is Justin. How’s it going, ma’am? Do you need any help?”

      “Hello, Justin. Thanks, but I don’t think so. The movers are putting things in place, and there isn’t much. The bedroom furniture will be delivered this afternoon. I haven’t bought dining-room furnishings and additional things for the living room yet. This place is so big.”

      “Do you think you’ll like it?”

      “Oh, yes, the avenue is beautiful, and I have a glimpse of Central Park.”

      “It’s beautiful after a snowfall, too. Well, I just wanted to know how you’re getting on. I won’t keep you. See you tomorrow at the office. ’Bye.”

      “’Bye, Justin, and thanks for calling.”

      She hung up, pensive and wondering what her life would be like in a year. Would Justin Whitehead still be a part of her life and, if so, would he be her chauffeur or her lover? He’d called because he cared, and if he denied it, she wouldn’t believe him.

      Justin hung up the phone and blew out a long breath. That wasn’t smart, he thought. He hadn’t had a reason for calling Gina, but he needed some contact with her. “I ought to get out of this right now,” he said to himself. He knew he could write that story from the interviews he’d collected. She was so different from all of the people he had interviewed so far. She represented an exception. If he didn’t include her, he knew his story would lose validity.

      He got up from his desk and looked out toward the East River. New York is full of women, approachable women, available women. Why the hell do I want this one?

      Unable to work, he got into his Jaguar and headed for the probate office. “I need to look at that will and any codicils to it,” he told his friend who worked there. “Can you give me at least ten minutes or can you read it and tell me precisely what Miles Strags’s responsibilities are as executor?”

      “I just clarified it for him yesterday. The answer is none. His duties were over when he handed her the will and transferred all the property to her, including keys, stock certificates, deeds and so forth.”

      “What about the stipulation that she do certain things for the first three years?”

      “If she doesn’t, he can’t force her to, because the will doesn’t say what action he’s to take if she ignores the terms. If he claims any rights or responsibilities, she can sue him for harassment. I can give you ten minutes.”

      Justin read as quickly as he could. Satisfied that Miles had no rights where Gina was concerned. Relief spread through him. He wouldn’t tell Gina what he learned, unless it became necessary, for he didn’t want to arouse her suspicion of him. Gina had already observed that Justin didn’t seem like a chauffeur, and around her, he didn’t feel like one.

      Unless you want your plans to erupt in your face, you’d better start acting like one, his inner voice said.

      Gina sat in her office with the builder, discussing the renovations. “We can do the job over the weekend,” he said, “and you won’t lose two full days from work.” He agreed to put a sink in the pantry area, and to replace the conference room with two offices, one of which would be hers. “We’ll build you a very attractive place here. That reception room could use some paint.”

      “All right,” she said. “Make it a dusty-rose, not pink. I don’t like pink walls. The building superintendent will let you in Saturday and Sunday mornings,” she said. “Be sure and bring some ID.”

      The man left, and she rushed to the rest room, refreshed her makeup and combed her hair. “I’m going bonkers,” she said to herself. “The man is my chauffeur, for goodness’ sake.”

      She made appointments with three prospective donors to the foundation and was about to go out for a cup of coffee, when Justin burst into the office carrying a bag that she knew contained two cups of coffee, if nothing else.

      “Good morning, ma’am. How’d it go? I brought you some coffee.” He opened the bag, unfolded a napkin and put a paper cup of coffee and a cranberry scone on it. “Sorry, it couldn’t be fancier.”

      If life were normal, she’d hug him, but it wasn’t and she had to content herself with a smile that came from her heart. “This is as fancy as I need. It’s priceless. Thanks. As soon as I swallow some of this coffee, I’ll tell you all about it.”

      “Take your time.” He sat down to drink his coffee, and she noticed that he didn’t have a scone. She broke off a piece of hers, put it on a napkin and gave it to him. “Well, it went like this. He’ll do the work according to the plan I showed you, and when we come here Monday morning, it will be ready. I hope you can tolerate dusty-rose in the reception area. I love that color.”

      He seemed unusually subdued, but she decided not to dwell on it. “I didn’t want you to share your scone,” he said, “but I’m enjoying it. Thanks. Would you prefer a taxi or a one-way limousine service when we go for the car? We’re picking it up in Queens.”

      “If you ask a New York City taxi driver to go farther than a mile, he gets his back up. Let’s take the limousine.” He lifted the receiver, dialed a car service and made a one-o’clock appointment. “Please be on time,” he said.

      “Oh dear,” she said. “We should have gone for the Town Car after we shopped for the office furniture. As it is, you won’t be able to park, and you can’t help me choose the furniture.”

      As he spoke, what remained of the scone seemed to have his undivided attention. “I’m sure you can do it without me, but if you want me to help, I’ll park in a garage or somewhere. Not to worry.”

      She didn’t think his diffidence could be ascribed to modesty, and certainly not to a desire to ingratiate himself with her. He glanced up then and locked his gaze on her for a fleeting second, and she sucked in her breath. She didn’t want to believe what her eyes told her, for in the speed of the moment, she wasn’t sure that it happened at all.

      “Will