Restore My Heart (20 page)

Tuesday afternoon found Sally back at the Universal Joint, the Fillies Ball foremost in her mind. Thrilled that Joe’d asked, she couldn’t seriously entertain going. She’d be like a hillbilly in Manhattan. Besides, Grandma had engineered the whole thing. How could Joe gracefully refuse when she’d put him on the spot? He had to ask Sally. It just wasn’t in his nature to hurt or offend anyone.

Uncle Sal settled a frosted pilsner atop a cardboard coaster on the bar. “You close early?”

Sally plopped her elbows on the counter, ignoring her beer. “Justin’s closing up for me.”

“Justin?” His mouth dropped open. “As in Justin Clay, your dad?”

“I thought I’d better call him Justin at work. It’d sound more professional to customers.”

“At work?”

Sally clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I forgot to tell you last night. He came in and offered to replace Roy. Can you believe it?”

Her uncle’s eyes brightened, suspiciously moist. “Uh, that’s great, honey. Ain’t it?”

“So far. This is Day Two and he’s sober and productive. As an employer, I can’t complain.” She lifted the glass for a sip.

“So what’s got you down, sweetheart?”

Sally sighed. “Joe’s pressuring me to be his date at the Fillies’ Derby Ball Friday night.”

Monette whistled from behind her. “Girlfriend, that shouldn’t get you down. That should make you glad. Very, very glad!”

Jennifer breezed in, clutching her textbooks to her chest. “What did I miss? What should make Sally very, very glad?”

“The Desalvo hunk wants Sally to go to the Derby Ball with him, as his
date.”

Jennifer shoved her books beneath the bar. Clucking her tongue, she shook her head. “I should have such problems. Poor Sally.”

“Get real, you two. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grease monkey, not a debutante.”

“You aren’t entering the pageant, Sally, just mingling.” Reaching across the bar, Uncle Sal lifted Sally’s head with his forefinger. “You’re as good as any of them snobby society types.”

Jennifer moved beside Sal. “Besides, the ball guests aren’t necessarily the upper crust of society, just people who can afford the three-hundred-dollar tickets. Sal’s right. You’ve as much a right to go as anyone.”

Sally shook her head. “First, it’s formal. I don’t exactly have a closet full of elegant—”

“I have the perfect gown!” Monette rushed forward, her table cleaning forgotten. “It’s floor-length, with a heart-shaped bodice that shows just a little—”

“On you, maybe. You have more curves for your bodice than I do.” Sally straightened, giving her bust line a rueful glance. “The only cleavage I have is under my arm.”

“Haven’t you heard of underwire, dear?” Jennifer whispered.

“That’s it. I’m outta here. I’ll be in the back if you ladies need me.” Uncle Sal fled.

“Secondly, in case it’s escaped your notice, I can’t dance. I’m lucky I can walk.”

“Honey, you don’t have to dance or walk. Just let that hunk wrap you in his arms and sway you back and forth.”

“Monette’s right. Nobody does the electric slide at the Derby Ball. Even if they did, you’re too dignified for that.” Jennifer winked.

“It’s not going to happen, girls, so forget it. I don’t even own makeup or jewelry. I’d need a week to remove the grease stains from my fingernails.”

“All you need is a manicure and a makeover. Right, Jen?”

“It’s Jennifer.” Jennifer tolerated no nicknames, something the newer waitress had better learn quickly.

“Whatever.”

“With the right underwear, Monette’s dress, and Laquita to do your hands and hair, you’ll be a smash. What color’s the dress?”

“Robin’s egg blue,” Monette said.

“Perfect. I have eye shadow to match. Fuchsia lip color, I think.”

“Fuchsia. Yes!”

Wouldn’t these two give up? “What am I, your science project?”

“Project!” Monette squealed, clapping her hands.

“I think you’ve seen
Clueless
too many times,” Sally grumbled.

“Leave everything to us, Sally. We’ll be at your house at four Friday. Four okay with you, Monette?”

“Sure. We’ll have plenty of time before our shift starts. Laquita may be a problem, though. Friday’s her busy day.”

“I’ll talk to Laquita. We’ll get this worked out,” Jennifer said.

“Wait, you two!”

“No, you wait, girlfriend.” Monette stood before her, hands on curvaceous hips. “You’re not going to pass up this chance, not if we can help it. So just get that through your thick head. Right, Jen?”

“Right, Mon. We’re giving you no choice.” Good grief. So caught up in their plan, Jennifer ignored Monette’s use of the dreaded nickname.

“Now, call up this guy and tell him you accept his invitation.”

“She won’t have to call,” Jennifer whispered. “He just walked in.”

A few customers were scattered at booths or tables throughout the Universal Joint when Joe stepped inside. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, then squinted in search of Sally. She leaned against the bar, watching him. The two waitresses at her side hurried away, as if understanding his need to talk to her.

“Hey, cowboy. How’d you know I was here?” She lifted her beer in a salute.

“Well, ma’am, yore Paw sent me.”

Sally giggled, a rare sound to his ears. “You do a decent John Wayne.”

“Well, thanks, little lady.” He slid onto the bar stool beside her. “Your dad said you left early to grab a bite to eat since you’d worked through lunch.”

Her smile disappeared. Had she been surprised her father had noticed she’d missed lunch? Joe didn’t understand the family dynamics of the Clay household, but one thing was clear: Sally desperately wanted her father’s love. One day maybe she’d tell Joe the whole story.

Her father’s words echoed in his head.
But you ain’t gonna be around
. Why did the thought bother him, even more than it had this morning when his boss had called?

“So how’s Grandma?”

“Growing weaker and weaker, she says.”

Sally’s face clouded. “Is she?”

“Nope. Mom says she’s rambunctious as ever when her audience isn’t there, audience being you and me.”

“I see. And what have you decided?”

“Me? No way, lady. The pressure’s on you. I pled my case last night. I’d be proud to escort you as my date to the Derby Ball, where I’ll be delighted to officiate at the ceremonies. What have
you
decided?”

“Joe, I told you I’ve never been to the Derby Ball.”

“Neither have I. Grandma had better coach me well.”

“You also know I can’t dance.”

“We’ll manage.”

“I can’t wear high heels.”

“Good. Those dangerous things should be government-regulated.”

“So you’re caving in to Grandma?”

Joe placed his hand on her arm. “I’m not inviting you to get Grandma off my back. I’m asking you because you’re the only woman I want to take.”

Sally blinked. Swallowed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

A reluctant grin pulled at her lips. “Okay, Joe Desalvo. I think I can work it into my busy social calendar.”

Sally gripped the edge of the bar. There. She was committed to the ball. Giddy and nervous, she smiled at Joe. His own smile slipped. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something else I’d like you to make time for, if possible.”

“Must be serious. You look so—so grim.”

Joe shook his head, as if reluctant to continue. “It’s one of Bloom Desalvo’s clients, one missing from the list. I’d like for you to go with me to interview her.”

“Her?”

“Yeah. Ellen Kennedy.”

Ellen Kennedy?
Sally vaguely remembered the name. Joe had asked her about it when she’d reviewed the printouts from the classic car customer list. “Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.” He waited as she slid off the stool, then escorted her to his car.

She studied Joe’s profile in the dim interior of his Dodge. His expression gave nothing away. His voice had.
Ellen Kennedy
. Joe couldn’t hide the tightness in his tone when he said her name. And Sally could no longer hide her curiosity.

“Where’d you come up with the name Ellen Kennedy?”

“Eavesdropping. Vic has a car for her, a Packard. Yet, she’s not on the list and I can’t find her file.” He shrugged. “May mean nothing.”

“If she’s not in the files, how did you come up with her address?”

His lips thinned. “Vic had her phone number jotted on his desk blotter. I did a reverse listing check on the net.”

“A Packard, you say.” She gnawed at her lip. “Leo never brought me a Packard. I didn’t know he was looking for one.”

“Would Dad tell you if he was looking for a particular model car?”

“Usually. If I got a lead, I’d pass on the info to Leo. Come to think of it, he never told me he was looking for a Kaiser Darrin, either. Leo sent work my way, but I hadn’t seen as much of him in the past few months.”

“From what I’ve learned, that’s because that new guy, Dan Alsop, has been handling acquisitions. Both Vic and Barbara confirm that he’s really shrewd at finding great classics in good condition.”

Sally grimaced. He’d certainly put a dent in Mustang Sally’s business. “Such as? Did they give you some examples?”

“Sure. He found a Ford Skyliner, one of the first to come out, that the actor James Dean bought new.”

“James Dean?” Excitement buzzed through her. She was certain the dates were wrong. If only she could remember. “When did he die?”

“I don’t know. Sometime in the fifties. Why?”

“I have a Skyliner in the shop. That model came out in ‘57. Find out when James Dean died.”

“Sure, but the car came with documentation.”

Celebrity ownership was a popular claim in classic cars. It was also the easiest to fake and the most difficult to prove. “Okay, what else did wonder boy find? A Lexus that Elvis drove?”

“Look, Sally, I know you’re upset because Alsop has cost you business, but the man’s innocent until proven guilty.”

She sighed. “You’re right. I’m being petty.”

“Well, maybe this will impress you. He picked up a Tucker in original condition and sold it to Steven Spielberg. There were only fifty made.”

“Fifty-one. Okay, I’m impressed, especially with your knowledge of Tuckers. Thought you didn’t know classic cars.”

“When I was about thirteen or fourteen, Dad took us to see
Tucker.”

“Uncle Sal bought the video as soon as it was released.” Before the accident. Back in the days when she and her dad, along with Sal, Maggie and Aunt Susan, were a stock car race family.

“Dad was into orphans.”

Orphans?
Joe shouldn’t know the term if he were as clueless as he claimed. Some undercover agent she was, although she’d been thinking too much lately about working with Joe under the covers. “What do you know about orphans?”

“What can I say? I’m a quick study.” Joe’s tone was light, but he wasn’t smiling. He exited the freeway onto Shelbyville Road and headed toward Eastwood. “Impressed?”

“Sure.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be. Mom had to explain orphans to me.”

“You’re right, though. Leo loved to discuss the orphans.”

As traffic thinned, Joe said, “Maybe I should’ve called the woman first.”

“I remember suggesting that,” Sally teased.

“Is that an I-told-you-so?”

“No. I like the element of surprise, myself.” What had gotten into her? Always serious, Sally couldn’t remember when she’d felt so jovial and, well, downright giddy.

Earlier at the Universal Joint, Joe had said
I’m asking you because you’re the only woman I want to take
. Ever since, she’d been floating. He’d be returning to Atlanta, leaving her heart in pieces. She understood that. She accepted that. But first he’d take her to the Kentucky Derby Ball. He’d give her more than she’d dreamed of experiencing since the accident. He’d give her one magical night.

No one could take that away from her.

They should’ve called first.

Ellen Kennedy stared at Joe when he introduced himself. “Mr. Desalvo’s son?”

“That’s right.”

Then she peered at Sally, as if she thought she should know her. Sally extended her hand. “I’m Sally Clay, of Mustang Sally’s. I do restoration work for Bloom Desalvo and we’re following up to see that the Packard meets your expectations.”