Page 1 of A Girl Like Janet

“Janet, can I see you in my office a minute.” The low-pitched male voice boomed irritably through the intercom.

As a matter of course Janet reached for a steno pad and pencil. The chair rolled back as she stood. Outside the connecting

door she paused to push up her glasses from the tip of her nose and replace a stray strand of chestnut-colored hair in the

carefully coiled chignon.

Reese Edwards glanced up from the cluttered, disorganized desk when she entered the room. “Sit down,” he ordered curtly.

Unconsciously Janet released a soft sigh as she sat. How anyone could work from a desk buried in financial reports, cost sheets,

files and correspondence she didn’t know.

At the sound of her released breath, Reese glanced up and frowned. “Is there something wrong, Miss Montgomery?”

“No,” she denied with a shake of her head, her back straightening. “Of course not.”

Janet sat quietly as she watched him continue scribbling almost indecipherable notes across the top of two reports. Dark hair

fell forward across the creased lines of his brow. He was handsome, but not in the normal sense. It was the force of his personality

that was boldly defined in the proud line of his jaw and the set of his mouth. He was capable of making a clearer statement

with one quirk of his brow than some men say in a ten-page brief. Watching him now, Janet realized something was troubling

him. After two years of working with Reese she was well acquainted with his moods. Almost from the moment he walked in the

door this morning, she had been aware of the restrained anger.

“Have these back to me this afternoon.” He stood, uncoiling his six-foot frame from the chair, and handed her the reports.

“And, Janet—” He paused; a nerve jerked in the hard line of his jaw. “Phone the jeweler and order a bracelet for Barbara Martin.”

Already? her mind questioned. Reese hadn’t been seeing Barbara Martin for more than a month. His women usually lasted at least

three. So that was what was wrong. “Is there anything else?” she asked as she stood.

“Yes,” he said without emotion and escorted her to the door. “Send the standard message with the bracelet.”

“Yes, I will.” The door clicked softly as it closed. Reaching for the phone to call the jeweler, Janet estimated it would

take less than a week to meet Barbara Martin.

She was right; she met the petite blonde two days later. The powder blue eyes were red and puffy when she walked into the

office.

“Would it be possible to see Mr. Edwards?” she asked, her soft voice quivering.

Another blonde. Janet would have staked her paycheck on the fact. All Reese’s women were blue-eyed blondes. Fragile, thin

creatures that were clones of the ones who had preceded them and the ones that would follow. If anything, Reese Edwards was

consistent.

“I’m sorry”—Janet’s voice was soft with apology—“but Mr. Edwards is in a meeting.” She hated to put Miss Martin off. The one

thing she detested about her job was having to deal with her boss’s women.

Tears welled in the other woman’s eyes, and she bit into her trembling bottom lip. “You’re supposed to say that, aren’t you?”

Barbara Martin sobbed, her voice high-pitched and emotional.

Janet took several tissues from her bottom drawer and handed them to the girl. It was amazing that a city the size of Denver

contained so many women exactly alike.

“You can tell Reese that I won’t stand for it; he can’t do this to me.” She paused to blow her nose.

The long tirade, which Janet had heard several times before, continued. The words were different but the message was the same.

Sobbing and near hysterical by the time she’d finished, Barbara slumped into the leather couch. “I love him so much,” she

wailed. “How... how can he do this to me?”

“I don’t know,” Janet said in soothing tones. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Barbara accepted the Styrofoam cup of coffee and sniffled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with my problems.”

“You haven’t,” Janet assured her. She sat and talked with Barbara until she’d composed herself. Twenty minutes later the woman

left.

No sooner had Janet returned from escorting her to her red sports car than Reese stepped into the outer office.

“There’s nothing I hate worse than a crying woman.”

Janet’s blue eyes widened at the irony of it all. Reese didn’t mind breaking their hearts, but he hated to see them cry. It

took great restraint on her part not to make some caustic remark.

Reese’s flickering gaze touched her. “Don’t look so put out,” he said in cutting tones. “It’s not part of your job.”

“Neither is dealing with your female companions,” she shot back in a rare display of anger.

“Claws, Janet? You surprise me.”

Jerking open the bottom desk drawer, she removed her purse. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m already late for lunch.”

“Take an extra half hour,” he told her.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Gail Templeton was waiting for her in the small cafe where they met for lunch and smiled as Janet joined her.

“Whew, you look fit to be tied. What’s wrong?”

Janet pulled out the chair and sat down, automatically reaching for the menu.

“Nothing that tarring and feathering Reese Edwards wouldn’t fix,” she said without elaborating.

Gail looked up from the menu. “Is he up to his old tricks again?”

Janet expelled her breath in an uneven sigh. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Want to talk about it?” Gail asked in a gentle voice.

Janet smiled her appreciation. “Not now.” Gail was probably the best roommate she could ever find. The two girls had met at

work right after Janet had been hired as the secretary to the vice president, Malcolm Hayes. Janet was still living with her

parents while Gail was struggling to make ends meet in a tiny studio apartment. By pooling their resources they were able

to move into an attractive place and establish their independence.

Although she lived with Gail, Janet kept in close contact with her family. Her father was the pastor of a small nondenominational

church not far from her apartment. Janet not only attended but was an active, involved member of the congregation. Besides

singing in the choir, she taught fifth-grade boy and girl Cadets for the Wednesday night program. Gail also attended the same

church.

“How did your morning go?” Janet asked, steering the subject away from her boss.

“All right.” She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. “What can you expect for a Thursday.” Her eyes focused on the menu

again.

“Thursday, what’s wrong with Thursday?”

Gail laughed. “Nothing Friday won’t cure.”

By the time Janet returned to her desk she realized she was going to have to rush and finish the cost overrun report if she

was going to have it ready before leaving that afternoon.

The phone rang repeatedly. Reese was attending an outside meeting and there was a stack of messages waiting for him when he

sauntered into the office with Malcolm Hayes an hour later.

“Is that report ready yet?” he questioned as he sorted through the pink slips of paper listing who had called and for what

purpose.

“Not yet,” Janet said tight-lipped, hiding her irritation as she realized she’d just typed the same paragraph twice.

“Do I detect a note of impatience, Miss Montgomery?” he teased. “You do realize how much more effectively your time could

be spent if you had a word processor, don’t you?”

The keys of the typewriter blurred as she repressed the panicky sensation. “I prefer my typewriter,” she said in an even,

monotone voice that, she prayed, wouldn’t reveal her dismay.

“Reese, let’s go over those figures again.”

Janet could have kissed Malcolm Hayes. Reese had mentioned changing over to a word processor several times. So far Janet had

been able to fend off the suggestion. But more and more offices were making the switch and she knew the time was coming when

she would be faced with the inevitable.

She didn’t finish the report until after six. Three times she was forced to retype a page that consisted of columns of figures.

Reese had gone down to a warehouse and she promised to have the report on his desk before leaving. Normally such an involved

paper wouldn’t have caused her problems, but she was still upset from her encounter with Barbara Martin that morning. At least

that’s what she told herself. Or perhaps it was knowing that sooner or later she would be facing the mechanics of working

a computer.

The metro bus dropped her off a block from her apartment building. The aroma of simmering beef gently assaulted her as she

opened the door and she paused to inhale the tantalizing smell.

“You’re late.” Gail stuck her head around the kitchen door and the auburn-colored hair fell over her shoulder.

“I had that report to finish,” Janet explained, kicking off her pumps and flexing her toes in the plush living room carpet.

“Are you eating at home tonight or are you and Joel going out?”

Joel was Janet’s thirteen-year-old brother. He had been born when Janet was nine. Despite his mental challenges, he was a

special child in many ways. Trusting, gentle and happy, Joel brought joy into the lives he touched. Thursday nights were reserved

for Janet’s younger brother.

“I thought I’d take him bowling tonight. Joel’s never been and I’ve only gone twice, so we should make quite a pair.”

“The only thing that should stand between you and the pins is the gutter,” Gail teased.

Janet picked up a decorator pillow off the couch and threw it into the kitchen. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“I do,” Gail commented saucily. “It’s my Stroganoff. Come on, dinner’s ready.”

Janet parked in front of her parents’ home an hour later. She saw the drapes move and knew that her brother had been at the

window waiting for her arrival. A second later the front door flew open and Joel bounded down the porch stairs, running toward

her. His young face was lit up with an inner glow of happiness.