addlebrained. “Every oilman dreams of making it big someday.”
Since Savanna had moved to this city, the wind had never ceased to blow. Now she watched it tug strands of Joe’s tawny blond hair across his forehead. “Are you an oilman, Mr. McCann?”
Obviously from the droll look on his face, he thought Savanna’s question a waste of time. “That is what I do, Ms. Starr. I search for oil or gas.”
“But is that what you really strive for, to make it big in the business? Do you want to be able to look up some day and say I’m the new king of the American road?”
From the moment Joe had met this woman yesterday morning she’d put him to thinking about things he’d never stopped to examine that closely before. First his daughter and now his work. What was it about her, anyway? Was she trying to practice psychology on the side and using him for a new patient?
“As far as I’m concerned I don’t think Texaco has anything to worry about. Hell, just look out there, Ms. Starr. You see all those stacked out-rigs? That’s not a work yard anymore, it’s a damn graveyard.”
She followed the line of his vision. “Well, I do know that the price of raw crude is down now. I guess your work is constantly affected by supply and demand.”
He grimaced as he continued to watch the skeleton crew of men at work. “You’re right, Ms. Starr. And this past year demand has been at rock bottom.”
So business had been bad for a whole year, Savanna concluded. Was that the reason he’d forgotten how to smile? The question made her look at him and wonder what kind of man he’d been before business had gone downhill. Was it possible that he’d actually been a happy, carefree man back then, or had something other than his business stepped in to change him? A woman? His daughter?
Savanna, stop wondering about your boss, she silently scolded herself. It shouldn’t make any difference to her if the man used to be a stand-up comedian. He was simply her boss and a few weeks from now, when her job for him had come to an end, he’d merely be a man she used to work for.
But it did matter, a part of her argued. She could see dark clouds of weariness in his eyes and the sight of it saddened her. She knew what it was like to wake up each morning and feel as if a dreadful weight was hanging around her neck. She wanted to help him. She wanted to see him laugh. She wanted him to be able to face whatever problems he had to face with a light heart and a hopeful smile.
“Things will pick up,” she said with bright encouragement.
“I’ve been telling myself that for a long time now.”
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