Love Letters From the Grave(29)
She spent the next few hours being oriented to the facilities in her office, her work responsibilities, and the locations of other offices and facilities which she would visit from time to time as a matter of course in her work. Before she knew it, it was time for lunch, and she was escorted to the cafeteria by her two office co-workers.
George was already there, and motioned for her to join him at his table once she’d chosen her food. He got up and assisted her into a chair at the table.
As they ate, their conversation picked up where it left off at their morning meeting in George's office. They shared more information about themselves.
George had never been married, apparently - he simply never found the right woman. During the war, he was exempted from the draft because of his age, and several attempts to enlist in the Army Air Forces failed because of how old he was and his employment in a critical war industry.
He brought up the subject of motorcycles again. He had been a motorcycle buff since shortly after graduating from high school. He presently owned a big Harley, which was less than a year old, and a classic Indian, which he owned since he was in his early twenties. He frequently rode his Harley, often riding it to work when the weather was good. He also rode it to motorcycle races on the weekends. He didn't ride his Indian often, and when he did, it was mostly to special events such as classic gatherings and shows. The Indian was his pride and joy, and he kept it in pristine condition.
‘I’m talking a lot,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Do you always make people do that?’
‘Not usually.’ Molly smiled. ‘They’re normally trying to get a word in edgewise.’
George had the grace to blush. ‘I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Perhaps you would consider going riding with me sometime when the weather improves.’
She said she would think about it, and headed out of the cafeteria before anyone could cry ‘favoritism’. Jesse had taught her well.
Over the next several months Molly settled into her job. Although her main responsibilities involved ordering and inventory, her overall work was especially enjoyable because she did a variety of things and worked with numerous people during a typical week. She saw George nearly every day, and joined him for lunch once or twice a week, mostly to discuss “work-related issues.”
She was becoming fond of George. He was a nice guy and a very good boss. All her co-workers loved working for him, and a few of the girls obviously had a romantic interest in him, agreeing that George would be a good catch.
Molly, however, was not particularly interested in being the one to catch him. According to her co-workers, George was 46 years old and had never been married. They said that even though he seemed to be a confirmed bachelor he regularly dated women, although never any of those who worked for him. In fact, they said, he rarely even dated women who worked anywhere else in the plant. That was a man who didn’t want to be pinned down, in her opinion – and she’d had enough experience of that already.
At lunch one day, George asked her if she would like to go riding on a motorcycle with him some Saturday or Sunday. It was late Spring, the days were getting warmer and warmer, and he was beginning to ride more often.
‘I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle,’ she said. ‘I’m a little apprehensive.’
‘You’ll be safe with me. I’ve been riding for more than twenty-five years and never had an accident.’
‘Well … then I’m sure it will be fine.’
George grinned. ‘Would you like to come to the motorcycle races? Might as well jump right in.’
‘I’ve never attended races of any kind – oh, apart from some sulky horse races at the county fair, but I never paid much attention to them.’
‘I don’t think you’ll find them much alike. Motor vehicle races are nothing like horse races. Car races are much more exciting - and motorcycle racing even more so.’ He watched her reactions carefully. ‘I will admit, though, that motor vehicle races are very much noisier than horse races.’
‘In that case,’ said Molly with a laugh, ‘I’d better bring a large hat to tie down over my ears.’
On Saturday morning, she was having coffee with her father and aunt when they heard a motorcycle coming up their long driveway.
Her father went to the window. ‘That is one big, shiny, black Harley,’ he said, rather enviously. ‘But why’s he carrying a shopping bag?’
‘Maybe he brought breakfast.’
Molly opened the door and quickly introduced George to her father and Aunt Dolores. He accepted their invitation to join them for some home-made apple pie and coffee.
‘Ah. So it’s not breakfast in the bag.’
George winked. ‘Open it and see.’
Intrigued, Molly opened the bag. On top was a pair of leather trousers and a pair of fur-lined leather gloves, followed by a fleece-lined leather jacket. Underneath it all was a heavy leather helmet and a pair of goggles. It was brand new stuff, accompanied by a nice leather smell.
‘You’ll need to wear these to be safe and comfortable on the motorcycle.’ George drained his coffee. ‘That is excellent pie, ma’am.’
Aunt Dolores simpered like a young girl. Both she and Jesse were very impressed that George was so thoughtful, and they liked him immediately.
Molly excused herself to go to her room to put on her motorcycle gear. Aunt Dolores went with her, and helped her dress. She was somewhat self-conscious in her new outfit, which fit her almost to a T, which was surprising to her because she was exceptionally tall and had given no size measurements to George.