The employees who worked in the International Bank Tower were familiar with elevator number three. It wasn't something that happened often, but it did happen, over the course of a year, perhaps two, or maybe three times. The computer, which controlled the elevators, hiccupped. There was no other word for it that they could think of. Hiccup seemed to work.
Every time it happened, the bank had an elevator company come investigate the elevator and the computer that controlled it. Once, when the bank president and a young file clerk were caught in the stalled elevator, two different maintenance companies tried to find the problem and both declared the problem was resolved. Three months later the computer hiccupped again.
That particular elevator stuck, stopped, paused, or some other more appropriate word, but everyone knew whatever word they used, it still meant trapped. On rare occasions, when going up, there was a small bump, which caused people to jerk in apprehension, squeal in surprise, or turn white with fear, but the carpeted people mover never seemed to hiccup on the way up, it was always on the way down and seldom with warning. It never seemed to stop at the same place and the bump did not occur on the same floor, either. It was such a seemingly confusing thing and no one seemed able to find the problem.
Last Thursday I was late getting to work. I'd had to stay in my new apartment for a short time to let the plumber replace the trap under my kitchen sink, which I had discovered, during my initial inspection, was leaking. I agreed to accept the apartment as it was, with the rental management company's promise they would repair the leak as quickly as possible. I didn't realize that would take a week, but the leak was really minor and it didn't take very long to replace the trap in the drainpipe. Nevertheless, it still made me late for work.
When I got to the bank tower, I was standing waiting for an elevator when a stranger walked up beside me and stood waiting also. I had noticed him the day before, carrying three large boxes and a briefcase strapped to a luggage carrier. This morning he had two file boxes strapped to the same luggage carrier.
"Moving in?" I asked as I looked at his boxes and then up at his face. For just a moment his beautiful dark blue eyes mesmerized me as he looked at me while a slow smile crossed his face. I almost felt he could see beneath my clothes. I disregarded that notion thinking that because I was attracted to him did not mean he was attracted to me.
"Yeah, I just started working for Harris and Associates," he replied, holding out his hand. "I'm Dave Thomas."
I also offered my hand, "Nice to meet you Dave Thomas, I'm Jo Preston. I work for Preston & Preston. I'm across the hall from your new office."
"Which one of the Preston's are you?" he grinned.
"Neither," I laughed. "The first is my grandfather and the second is my dad. I guess I'm number three."
"So, when do the sign painters get here to change the company name to Preston, Preston & Preston?" He joked as we got on the elevator.
"Oh, I guess I need to pass the CPA exams first." Although I'd promised my father I would do it, I hadn't finished that last year of school and taken the multi-part test that would actually allow me to add those magic letters after my name.
"Don't wait too long," he cautioned as he pushed the button with a twelve on it, for the top floor of the building.
"Oh, you know about it, huh?" I grimaced at how hard I'd heard the tests were.
He said, "Yeah, my brother's a CPA, he put it off and it took him a while to get all of the sections finished. He said it was worse than watching childbirth, and if he could do that three times, he figured he could finally pass the test."
"He waited until he had three children to take the test?" I wasn't sure I was really interested or just trying to keep the conversation going with this good-looking man.
Dave laughed this time. His previous laughter had been a light chuckle, but this one was a really deep belly laugh that made his dark blue eyes sparkle and his whole face change from a solemn look to one of pure delight.
"No, not three different times," he explained, "Triplets."
"Oh lord." I'm not sure my expression showed I could imagine having three babies all at the same time, but I did blush as he grinned at me and then laughed even harder. I felt a light seepage of moisture between my legs and tried to clamp by thighs tighter. Good grief, I'd just met the man, I can't be this aroused from one look into his eyes, but it seemed I was, because I felt my nipples drawing into tight points. I did not dare look down at the front of my blouse. He would know what I was looking at and laugh even harder.
When we walked out of the elevator and down the hall, he stopped at the door to my office, opened it for me, and said, "I'd like to take you to lunch one day next week."
"I would like that." I answered as he turned to go into the office across the hall.
I closed the office door and looked at the older woman sitting at the front desk, who was grinning from ear to ear. "Some dish, isn't he?" I'd known Sarah, almost since I was born, or at least from my first memory of coming to my dad's office. She had worked for my grandfather for more than twenty years. It wasn't unusual for her to make a remark about a handsome man. She had quietly commented on more than one client. However, Dave Thomas was more than simply good looking, he was gorgeous, a hunk, and everything I liked about a man, tall, dark, serious but fun, nicely dressed, and polite.
"I'll say," I agreed using my hand to fan my face as a full blush swept up my face and grew even redder because I knew Sarah had seen me flirting with the newest man in the building.
I also knew if I stood there long enough, Sarah would give me all the statistical information I wanted to know. As she began to tell what she knew, I grew even more interested. He was a newly hired engineer, single, as in never married, twenty-eight, lived alone, or as least as far as the secretary across the hall knew, he didn't have a long-term relationship, and no women had yet called to leave a message for him. He was local, meaning he had shown his father, with a local address, as the person to notify in case of an emergency.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, I knew he was going to learn the same things about me, if he hadn't already been told. The secretary across the hall was about the same age as Sarah and they ate lunch together in our office almost every day. We had a very spacious break room, including a full size refrigerator with an icemaker, a microwave, two-burner hot plate, table and chairs, and a sink with running water. During certain parts of the year, these added benefits of working for a family owned business, meant those late hours were a little easier to put up with if you weren't starving as the hours grew later and later.
Although the building officially closed at the end of the business day, anyone who worked late knew the front doors were not locked until much later. A guard desk was located in the lobby, with a guard sitting at the desk until ten at night, when he would lock the outside doors set the alarm. Anyone who might be working later than that would need to have keys to the outside doors and know their personal security code to get in or out of the building. I'd worked summers for the company for several years and had found myself in that position a number of times.
Our office was on the east coast and we had a very valuable client with extensive business on the west coast. If someone in one of their west coast offices was going to get information to us by the time they closed their office at six o'clock their time, we would be receiving it as late as ten o'clock. If I stayed late, I usually didn't get to the office until around noon the next day.
Neither my grandfather, nor my dad, liked to see me stay that late, but the client company was often working against a deadline collecting what they sent to us. The information might need to be ready for a report Dad or Granddad would complete the next day and send it out, or the client company would have to pay a penalty. That meant staying late was necessary. It was also one of the reasons we were able to retain the company as a client.
Dad had an unwritten rule that I call him when the west coast report arrived and call again when I got home. My father was a widower the last two years I was in high school and he remarried during my second year in college. I had chosen to live in my own apartment to relieve my father and his new wife of having a grown child living with them. I was faithful about calling to let him know the report arrived, but I was not as careful to call him in the middle of the night to let him know I had received the report. I felt one of us loosing half a night's sleep was enough. He didn't really seem to mind that I didn't make the second phone call. He just reminded me to be a safe, including moving my car as near the doors as I could, after the parking lot emptied.
My grandfather was slowly shifting some of his workload to my desk, at least the work I was able to do. He would check anything that needed his signature, but it allowed him to leave the office a little earlier than he had done when he was younger. He had recently been pushing me to finish that last year of school, and then he would add more to my workload. Dad truly wanted him to retire, but Granddad was resisting. He feared Dad would want to hire another accountant so I could finish school. Granddad's idea that the business would always remain in the hands of a close family member was beginning to wear thin, causing both Dad and I to do some work we could have assigned to an assistant, or a clerk.
Granddad demonstrated his predilection for putting things on my desk that Thursday afternoon when he handed me a thick file.
"Here's the information to go with those reports that will be sent in late tonight. See if you can do the final report so all I need to do tomorrow is sign it." Granddad didn't wait for my response; he walked by Sarah and told her to have a pleasant evening, and then he left the office.
Luckily, the file my grandfather gave me was one I had organized, which meant it wouldn't take me too long to update everything, begin completing the forms I would find online, and wait for the remainder of the information to arrive. That still meant I would be at the office later than usual. By the time Sarah and Dad left, I had boiled a couple of eggs, collected a variety of crackers and sliced some cheese for my supper as I continued to work on the records I had, waiting for the remainder so I could finish the report and have it on Granddad's desk when he arrived the next morning.
The west coast papers arrived a little after nine, and by the time I finished my work, and left the office, it was twenty minutes before midnight. I was locking the office door while I was vowing to send a nice message to the person who compiled the report I received. It was very accurate, or it would have been later than midnight before I got away from the office.
As I started down the hall toward the elevator, I heard a door close behind me and turned to see Dave Thomas locking the front door to his office.
"I thought I was the only one who worked this late."
