Ulterior Motives by Laura Leone

moment before taking it in a brief handshake. She waited for him to offer his name. When he didn’t, she said, “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”
    He stared at her.
    Shelley looked uncertainly at the blond boy, then back to the Afghan man. “What is your name?”  
    “Hmm?”
    “Do you speak English?” Shelley asked slowly.
    The man smiled shyly and responded, “Are with numb English.”
    Shelley felt disappointed but not very surprised. She had been through false starts before when looking for interpreters of unusual languages. As she had told the coordinator in Washington, she wouldn’t find someone overnight. Nevertheless, she didn’t appreciate having her time wasted. She turned again to the blond young man.
    “Didn’t I specifically say that I need an Afghan who is an American citizen and speaks fluent English?” she said patiently.
    “Well, his English is a little slow—”
    “It’s a little non-existent. If he can’t tell me his name, how do you expect him to give accurate simultaneous interpretation of complicated legal language?”
    “Well, perhaps...”
    “And where are his citizenship papers?”
    “Um.”
    “I appreciate your help,” Shelley said diplomatically, “but my instructions were clear and specific. If you ignore them, I’m afraid you simply waste your time and energy. Not to mention my own.”
    The boy sighed. “I’m sorry, Miss Baird. We thought it might be good enough that he spoke Pashto. Better luck next time, eh?”
    Shelley smiled politely, not wanting to offend someone who possessed good intentions, even if they were misdirected. Besides, he might be able to help her in the future.
    Shelley showed them to the door, then turned to face Ross. His eyes watched her with an interest that she sensed was purely professional in this instance. She resented his presence during such a chaotic day, not wishing him to see her operation at anything less than peak efficiency. On the other hand, he of all people should know that this was a complex business that seldom provided a calm—or dull—day.
    Francesca was on the phone to Portland, making arrangements to ship them their Chinese books. Wayne was shuffling some papers on Francesca’s desk, a transparent excuse for staying in the lobby to study Ross. Ross was unperturbed by Wayne’s ill-concealed interest in him, and he returned Francesca’s glances with a flattering, slightly flirtatious expression.
    He certainly did dress up the lobby, Shelley reflected.
    The door opened again behind Shelley. She turned to see a German teacher enter the arena.
    “Guten Tag, Shelley,” the woman said.
    “Guten Tag, Ute. Wie geht’s?”
    “Was ist das?” Ute asked, surveying the disorder in the hallway.
    “It’s a long story,” Shelley said. “You’re early today, aren’t you?”
    “Ja. I have come early because I must speak with you about something.”
    Shelley glanced at her watch, hoping she would have time for both Ute and Ross before her next appointment arrived. “Of course, Ute. I have agreed to see this gentleman first, if you don’t mind waiting.”
    Ute looked at Ross. Her expression reflected what Shelley had come to accept as a normal female reaction to his presence. Although Ute was a married woman awaiting the arrival of her third grandchild, her face lit up with a fascinated smile as she introduced herself to Ross. He stood up and took Ute’s hand.
    “Sehr erfreut. Ich bin Ross Tanner,” he said, surprising Shelley.
    “ So ,” Ute said with interest, “Sie sind Herr Tanner. Wie geht es Ihnen?”
    “Danke gut. Und Ihnen?”
    “Shelley,” Francesca interrupted. “Portland wants to speak to you. They say they didn’t order Mandarin books. They ordered Cantonese books.”
    Shelley sighed and took the receiver. While she talked with the director of the Portland school and patiently explained that the mistake wasn’t her fault and she didn’t know who was responsible, she was aware of Ute and Ross