6. Ryan
6
RYAN
W ith only a week left until Thanksgiving, car sales had taken a dip. It was an average November, though, and my business partner, Sam Lawson, sat across my desk from me in full agreement. This year's Black Friday blowout was going to be the best sales day of the year.
"The team is making sure all ice and snow stay off all one hundred and fifty-two cars, and as long as we don't get hit with another squall, we should be able to accommodate the crowd we expect." Sam took a bite of his hoagie and nodded as he chewed. The parking lot in back was typically where all the excess snow got pushed, but we had to truck it out to the park to make room for customers to park.
This working lunch was more work than lunch. I snacked on some jerky while running projected sales reports, but Sam hadn't eaten yet. It was a typical Thursday management meeting, except without our sales managers. They all had the day off this week in preparation for the holiday weekend when we planned to keep the dealership open longer hours.
"That's perfect, and if the team can get the final few banners hung this weekend, we'll be all set. We have to move this inventory. We have dozens of new cars coming in after Christmas." I stared at my own reports and felt satisfied that we'd turn a good profit this year. We had already seen a forty percent increase over last year's sales and the fourth quarter wasn't even complete.
"I'll make sure we get things locked down…" Sam slurped a drink of soda from the can on my desk in front of him and set it back down. "Say, you've seen that hot little brunette around town? What'd they say her name is? Carrie?" Sam's face contorted to a dirty smirk. "Is she really Walter Bennett's daughter?"
Something in my chest tightened when he mentioned her name, and I felt like punching him. "That's Walt's daughter, alright, and she's off limits." Sam was happily married, but a reminder to keep his eyes—and his comments—to himself never hurt. Just thinking of the men in this town ogling her had me ready to fight for her honor, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
I had promised Walt a long time ago that I'd always be there for him. That meant times like this, when his daughter and wife needed loving support. I'd heard my fair share of gossip floating around since Carrie started showing her face around town at Helen's behest. People weren't very kind at all. Any bit of news—confabulated or true—quickly turned to whispers on the tongues of every citizen.
"Sheesh, man, a guy can look. She sure is gorgeous, though. How the heck did Walter pull that off?" Sam chuckled at how I chastised him, and I felt a scowl brewing on my face. I shouldn't be so defensive because I couldn't stake a claim to her, not with her openly rejecting me, but I could still be the man I promised Walter I'd be.
"She's not even thirty, Sam. Think of your own daughter." Sam's daughter was twenty-one, and while I had never looked at her as if she were someone I'd consider dating, I had noticed she was quite pretty.
Walter would be livid if he knew men our age were looking at her like a slab of beef on the market ready for the auction block. I was only doing my duty as his friend by chasing away that unwanted and unsolicited attention.
Sam grew quiet as he took another bite of his hoagie, but Marge must've overheard us talking because she popped her head into my office without being invited to the conversation. My secretary was about as nosy and full of gossip as they came, and the instant I saw her face, I knew there was a pile of crap headed my way.
"Are you talking about Walter Bennett's daughter?" She leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner and clung to the door jamb, bracing herself on it. "Because I heard she left town after that whole scandal."
I didn't get a chance to stop the conversation from spiraling out of control. Before I could speak, Sam did. "Is that right? I heard Ol' Walt paid off a judge when he was the mayor because of her underage drinking."
"She had a part," Marge said very matter-of-factly. "There were kids driving home drunk that night, and one girl died. It's such a shame. That girl has no business in this town. It's a wonder Walter and Helen stuck around."
"Marge, please stop talking." I stood and tucked my tie into my jacket and buttoned it, and Marge looked up at me with a glower. I usually just let the shit hit the fan and ignored it, but I wasn't going to stand here while Walter was lying in a hospital bed and let people sling mud from his past. Neither he nor Carrie deserved that.
"Well, Mr. Hawthorne, I was just saying?—"
"Enough, Marge," I said firmly again, and she scowled. "We can handle things from here. You can take the rest of the day off." It felt evil giving her the afternoon off after being so snotty with her storytelling, but I knew if she stuck around, I'd say things I'd later regret. "And Marge," I said as she started to walk away, "make sure whoever starts spreading those lies about Walter knows they'll have me to answer to if his recovery is affected by them." I glared at her as she sashayed off.
Learning about Carrie's wild past only made me think more fondly of her. She had, like me, been a victim of this town's gossip circles. Mine was a storm surrounding Kate's motion for divorce and the way she died tragically only hours after signing the final papers. People still believed me capable of sabotaging her car, and whoever started that rumor was a horrible person.
This insight into Carrie's teen years didn't surprise me at all. I was a wild one when I was young too, throwing parties, sneaking out. We weren't all that different, and the things we had in common gave me sympathy for her situation. Not only did she hate how her mother and father tried to push her to do what they wanted without being as supportive of her choices as she thought they should, but she was also ashamed of her mistakes and probably carried guilt.
Now I felt even more protective of her. Where the line of propriety fell was another story because the knot tightening in my gut felt more like a jealous, possessive anger, not that of a protective big brother.