Trust Me

glared at her. “I installed an email package on your office computer. You’ve never used it.”
    “My office computer is too big to carry around with me,” Desdemona pointed out.
    Tony smoldered. Everyone ignored him. They were too busy watching Stark demonstrate the PDA.
    “You can use a PDA to make notes when you’re on a jobsite,” Stark explained. “Or to do estimates and cost calculations. It’s got a graphics package, too, so you can sketch a buffet layout.”
    “That’s wonderful,” Desdemona said.
    “It translates your handwriting into typewritten characters on the display.” Stark handed her the pen. “Here, try it.”
    Desdemona gingerly took the tiny computer from him and concentrated intently on learning how to use it. Jason, Kyle, and the Wainwrights gathered around her.
    “Can I try it out?” Henry asked.
    Macbeth inched his chair closer to Desdemona. “Let me give it a whirl.”
    “No one but Desdemona should use it,” Stark said, his gaze on Desdemona as she bent intently over the PDA. “It’s a very personal kind of computer. It will learn her handwriting and her work habits. The more she uses it, the more efficient it will become. After a while it will be almost attuned to her.”
    “I’ve been wanting a pet of some kind,” Desdemona said happily.

    Several days later, Desdemona, garbed in a white apron and a hair net, stood at the center island in Stark’s kitchen and issued orders in the manner of a general preparing for battle.
    “Juliet, don’t forget the chilled asparagus spears and the lemon sauce. Aunt Bess, have you got the cheese tray ready?”
    “All set,” Bess said. “Goat, sheep, and cow.”
    “Where’re Henry and Vernon?” Desdemona glanced out the window into the drive that wound behind the garden. “They should be here with the van by now.”
    “Relax, dear,” Aunt Bess said. “They’ll be here by curtain time.”
    Juliet removed the tray of asparagus spears from the refrigerator. “Where do you want these, Desdemona?”
    Desdemona took her PDA out of her apron pocket and checked the placement chart she had sketched on it. “The table behind the sofa in the living room.”
    “Got it.” Juliet started toward the kitchen door.
    Stark emerged from the hall and stepped straight into her path. He was dressed in an expensive dark suit, a brilliant white shirt, and a silk tie. “How is everything going in here?”
    “Everything is just fine,” Desdemona assured him. “We’re on schedule, so don’t get nervous. I don’t have time to soothe a case of stage fright.”
    “I’m not nervous.” He sounded disgusted.
    “I’m delighted to hear that.”
    “But I’ll be glad when this is over,” Stark muttered. “I’d rather have gone to that science fiction film with Macbeth and Jason and Kyle. Does this tie look straight?”
    Desdemona glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, it looks perfectly straight. Go on out to the living room and read a magazine or something. We’ve got another half hour before the guests start to arrive.”
    Stark frowned. “I’ll wait upstairs in my study.”
    “Whatever. Just get out of here. Let us pros do our job.”
    “Are you sure there isn’t something I should be doing?”
    “I’m sure.”
    With a last, uncertain glance around the busy kitchen, Stark reluctantly withdrew.
    Bess chuckled as he disappeared. “You’d think he was about to open on Broadway.”
    “In a lot of ways this reception is just as crucial to him. This is a major event. Some of his most important clients will be here.” Desdemona heard a knock at the kitchen door. “That must be Henry and Vernon. Thank goodness.”
    She hurried over to the door and opened it. “I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you two.” She broke off as she saw who was standing next to Vernon. “Tony. What are you doing here? I didn’t schedule you for this evening.”
    Desdemona had prudently decided to avoid using Tony on any of the events that Right Touch handled for Stark Security Systems. It was clear that both men were unaccountably irritated by the mere sight of each other. There was tension in the air whenever Stark and Tony were in the same room. The night of her birthday party neither had spoken directly to the other, although both had been superficially polite.
    “Sorry, kid.” Tony smiled derisively over the top of a carton of wine glasses. “Henry got held up at rehearsal. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep out of Stark’s sight.