Page 63 of Statler

She knew her denials were a fallacy.

The question was, pursuing the anomalies, who did she eventually tell? Where could she go from here?

Eliza sighed.

That was a question for another day, since the majority of her thoughts right now had to be focused on getting her work done. And, if she were honest, she was already distracted with notions of the evening ahead.

Tonight wasn’t a date, by any means, but still, she had questions.

How should she dress? Should she splurge and wear make-up or perfume? Should she take her hair down from its ever-present bun or would that look like she was trying too hard?

Well, one thing was for sure. She was going to ditch the glasses.

Eliza had contacts that she only wore outside of work, and she’d make sure to put them in for the evening. Just because her father preferred the thick frames that obscured her eyes while she toiled for him, Eliza knew they were her prettiest feature.

She’d show them off tonight.

* * *

When five-thirty finally rolled around, Eliza’s desk was almost clear of work. She’d toiled straight through lunch—as she’d probably have to do from here on out if she were to visit the job-site every day—but the advent of seeing Statler would go a long way toward mitigating an empty stomach.

Her father, of course, when he’d left a half hour earlier, couldn’t help but reiterate his orders before he disappeared.

“Don’t forget. I want a full report. I want to know what makes Statler Bothswait tick, and how he is with his employees. Any dirt you can dig up might mean a little extra in your paycheck,” he enticed with a smarmy smile.

Right.

Eliza had heard that before.

Whenever her father wanted something special from her, he always dangled money and raises to get her working harder. Then, when she delivered on special projects or whatever he’d demanded, he’d conveniently forget what he’d so airily promised. And if she dared bring it up, he’d scowl and tell her she was delusional; that he’d never made her any promises.

Asshole.

Eliza made the drive home, pondering once again what her father had asked her to do.

In this particular case, she didn’t think she’d have much to tell him. Statler and his people seemed like honorable folks. They seemed…clean.

Maybe too clean?

Eliza worried over that for a moment, then chastised herself, dismissing her concerns.

What would Statler and his construction crew gain from being dishonest in any way? They were here, under contract, to do a job. A job which they were professionally, more than capable of performing. She’d gone over their resume. It was extensive and impressive.

There was no need to borrow trouble thinking that something was going on with them under the surface.

Clearly, her father’s paranoia was rubbing off on her.

Perhaps she’d have a laugh tonight with the crew, telling them of her father’s strange obsession with them, and the fact she was supposed to be a snitch.

That is, if they still wanted her around once she explained exactly who she was.

She hadn’t missed the look on Statler’s face when Jeremy had called her by her married name. Nor had the astute man been able to ignore, she was certain, the mention of “her father” that had been made.

There’d be questions, for sure.

She just didn’t know how Statler would take her answers.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN