* * *
At six that night, after everyone else had left for the day, Faye softly rapped on Bernard’s door. When she opened the door she saw he was on the phone again. He waved her in and indicated for her to take a seat. Outside his enormous picture windows the lights of the ancient city flickered through the fog like candles.
She walked across the mile of carpeting to perch on the end of a modern chrome- and-leather sofa, as uncomfortable as it was cold. After a tense three minutes counted by the seconds, Bernard hung up the phone and approached. He stood beside the sofa, cupping his chin in his palm and studying her as though she were the Mona Lisa. She offered him a crooked little half smile.
“Tough day?” he surprised her by asking. It wasn’t like Bernard to be solicitous.
“The worst,” she replied, tucking her hands along her thighs. “The two o’clock meeting went exactly as I’d expected. The team was unified all right—against me. They see me as your protégé.”
“You are,” he replied matter-of-factly. Then, frowning, he sat on the sofa beside her. Faye felt his closeness intensely, sensed the odd air between them and scooted a few inches farther down the sofa. She felt as though her entire body was shrinking inward so as not to graze his thigh or to breathe the same, warm air when she turned her head.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Something in his voice had her inner alarms ringing. Susan Perkins’s comment flashed in her mind. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Yes,” she replied with a nervous giggle that made her want to slap her own face. She crossed her legs, noticed how much thigh was exposed, then quickly uncrossed them.
She could feel Bernard’s eyes on her, scorching a trail from her lips, down her neck to her breasts, to the bony kneecap that sneaked from under her skirt.
Then it happened. He placed his large, manicured hand squarely on her leg, blanketing her knee. Then he squeezed. It wasn’t so much an action as a statement.
Faye stared at the hand in the awkward aftermath. Why did you have to ruin it? she thought to herself in agony. Then she thought of Maddie and Tom, and how she couldn’t afford to lose this job. She thought of how she was thirty-five, unemployable, and how she had everything banking on this one job. On this one man. She slowly exhaled, catching the rhythm of her thoughts, and quietly took his hand to gently—firmly—move it back to his own knee.
“Please,” she uttered softly.
Bernard jumped to his feet and exploded. “Please?” he roared. “Please? You let me pull that act with you and all you say is, please? Damn it all, maybe Perkins was right. You’ve lost the fight. What the hell happened to you? A few years ago the Faye O’Neill I knew would have scratched my eyes out like a she-cat if I tried anything like that. Where is that girl now? That’s the girl I need—the one I thought I hired!”
“I’m here Bernard. I... I just need some time. To acclimate.”
“Look. I know it was tough in there. I despise suck-ups and quarrelsome people— and Patrick is both. I’d boot him out on his skinny ass except that he writes such damn good copy. I try to recruit the highest quality at all levels. To build the hottest staff. That’s why I brought you in, Faye.” He speared her with a dark look. “No other reason.”
She exhaled, then closed her mouth tightly and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Here it is, cards on the table. We’ve been invited to show Hampton what kind of advertising we would run if they gave us the account. You’ve got till the end of summer to come up with a solid campaign with a dozen hot, to-die-for slogans. That’s going to take smarts, midnight oil, and something else. Instinct. The Faye O’Neill I once knew was up to that task. The question is, are you that same Faye O’Neill?”
She stood up, mouth open to reply.
“No, no, no,” he bellowed, striding to the door and swinging it wide. “Don’t tell me. Go out there and show me!”
Chapter 10
Show me. As Faye rode the tube home she felt numb and drained.
Faye got off at an earlier stop to pick up supper. Again, the night was foggy and moist. It was no wonder the English had so many inspired authors, she thought glumly. The weather positively bred introspection. She passed by numerous houses, ablaze in light and music, families clanking about in the kitchen. How lucky they were to be together, helping each other, laughing. Nobody seemed even aware of her as she passed them, a ghostly presence in the fog. She tucked her hands deep in her pockets and kept her eyes on her feet as they moved one after the other along the pavement.
Inside she was fighting off an inexplicable urge simply to turn left at the next corner, chuck it all, and run away. Run, run, run with her hands over her ears, screaming at the top of her lungs. Run away as fast as she could from all her responsibilities, from all the unfair expectations, from someone calling her name. Doing her job well wasn’t good enough. She had to do a great job, a magnificent job. Nothing less would do. Perhaps most frightening of all was the certainty that when she arrived home there would be no one there with whom she could share her burden. No one to help pick up the slack. At home she had to be the mother, the caretaker, the supporting wall of her little family.
The moist air felt like an anvil on her chest, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She hastened her pace, trying to outdistance the pressure, to put some space between her and that faceless, formless burden hounding her heels. The greasy brown bag of fish and chips banged at her thigh. It was now the children’s favorite. A special treat for them. The thought of their smiles when she surprised them lightened her heart a bit and she reluctantly smiled too. Smiling Energy. A Taoist tenet. Dante put it another way: Overcoming me with the light of a smile.
As she approached No. 14, she met Jack walking from the other direction. They spotted each other at the same moment, and she knew by the almost imperceptible pause in his step that he felt the same awkwardness that she did. They had avoided each other since the kiss, each taking special pains not to bump into the other. Faye’s heart began pounding anew, and she was furious at herself for feeling so flustered just at the sight of him. She could feel the flame of a blush on her cheeks and kept her eyes averted.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Jack said, striving for levity.
“I...I was just going in,” Faye murmured, stepping back.
“And I was going out.” He seemed equally ill at ease, eager to be off. “Dinner?” he asked, indicating the grease-spotted brown bag in her hands.
“What? Oh yes. I worked late and...” She stopped her babble and sheepishly raised the limp, crinkled bag. “Fish and chips.”
“Maddie will be pleased.” He rocked on his heels.
“Mmm...yes...”
Small talk. Each word was agonizing. Her tongue felt like it had soaked up all the moisture in her mouth, had swelled double in size, and was lying like a bloated, beached whale on a sandy shore.
“The children are well?”
“Yes, fine. Thank you.”
“I see. Good.” He paused. “Are you all right?” he asked, bending low to peer at her face. His brows gathered in worry. “You look...tired.”
Faye turned her head away, aware that he must’ve noticed her red eyes. “Oh, just a summer cold. I’ve been sniffing all day.”
“Ahh ...” he replied, nodding, though she didn’t think he looked the least bit convinced. A couple passed them walking a small Cairn terrier.
“Well, I best be going in,” she said.
“Oh. Right. Good night then.”
“Good night.” She gave as good a wave as she could with a greasy bag in her hand, then turned and unlocked the front door and slipped inside the foyer. Closing the door behind her she slumped against it, exhaling deeply. She didn’t think she could handle one more emotional roller coaster today. It must be the full moon. People always seemed to act strangely then. Still, it was too bad that the friendship they’d begun seemed ruined by that one regrettable, unforgettable kiss in the hallway. She really lik
ed Jack. His openness and honesty. It might have been nice to talk to him tonight, free and easily, like they had Friday.
It was simply not meant to be, she thought, pushing herself away from the door. She’d always heard that it was impossible for a woman to have male friends. That in the end, the intellectual attraction always ended with a sexual encounter. Certainly she and Rob had never been friends. All they had between them was sex. It was the weak link of their marriage. Perhaps it was true, after all. Perhaps friendship and sex were mutually exclusive. Like oil and water, they simply did not mix.
She pushed open her front door, wanting nothing more from the world tonight but to hug her children, plop on a chair, kick off the new pumps that were causing a blister, and dive into a nice cool glass of chardonnay. What she found waiting for her was Mrs. Jerkins in a state of extreme agitation, sniffing and snorting like a horse at the starting gate. Faye sighed again, cursing the full moon overhead.
“It’s already half past seven!” Mrs. Jerkins exclaimed, raising her nose and eyeing Faye dolefully.
To Faye’s ears, it sounded like “hoppusseven.”
“Yes, I was delayed again. I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Jerkins, I had the secretary call you. Didn’t she reach you?”
“Yes, but no matter. It’s still half past seven!”
“I’ll try not to let it happen again. These have been extremely difficult days. I...”
“Well, see that it doesn’t because I won’t be here past six o’clock from this night forward. I have my own life, don’t you know. You can just go and make other arrangements for child care after I leave. For I’ll leave promptly at the hour.”
“Mrs. Jerkins, that’s impossible. I need more time to find someone!”
“That’s not my worry now is it? I can’t sit and discuss it now. I must be off. The coach will be coming. Oh yes, one last thing,” she said, doing up the buttons of her sweater that strained at the task. “Mrs. Lloyd asked that you ring her. Says it’s most urgent. Something about the children and her mother, old Mrs. Forrester.” She sniffed again, a tad more loudly as though to say, Now you’re in for it. “I told her that I tried my best to keep them away. Especially that quiet one. He pops up there every time I turn my back. He thinks he fools me, but I know where he’s off to, yes I do. Those little ones of yours, they can be sneaky you know.”
Faye felt her blood boil. “No, I don’t know. Where are my children now?”
She rolled her eyes with feigned weariness. “Where else? It’s like bees to honey, I said to Mrs. Lloyd.”
“I should think, Mrs. Jerkins,” Faye said testily, “that if you were so concerned about Mrs. Forrester, you might have kept the children here. Where they belong.”
Mrs. Jerkins’s chest swelled with indignation, and her face pinkened. “If you think that, then I say you don’t know Mrs. Forrester very well!” She gathered her purse in a huff, muttering as she passed outside, “But I’d put a stop to if I was you. Mrs. Lloyd doesn’t like it none. Not one little bit!”
* * *
“Mrs. Forrester?” Faye called, rapping at the door softly. “Wendy?”
She heard the shuffle of feet, and the door was opened by Maddie.
“Halloo,” Maddie said in a sprightly voice and English accent that was remarkably like Wendy’s. She stood taller, too, with her shoulders back, the model of deportment.
“Hi, sweetheart. Gather up your things. It’s time to come home. I’ve brought dinner.”
“We’ve already ate.”
“What? Where?”
“Here. Wendy made us itty-bitty sandwiches. Cucumbers and cream cheese and tuna. They were ever so good. And so pretty. They looked like little hearts.”
“Really?” Faye disguised her distress. It was no wonder Mrs. Lloyd was worried. The children were mooching meals as well. “Let me speak a moment to Wendy.”
Maddie directed her to the window seat where Wendy was seated, tucked under an afghan, a tiny figure bent over a puzzle on the table beside her. The old woman looked up and her face brightened at the sight of Faye. She smiled serenely and removed her spectacles.
“Come in, my dear! You’ve come back early. What a pleasant surprise. We heard perhaps you’d work a bit late again tonight.”
“I hope they haven’t been too much trouble. I’m dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience. Mrs. Jerkins should never have...” Faye was discreetly peering around the nursery, searching for a sign of Tom.
“Nonsense, dear. I love having them. I have someone to play with.”
“Uh, where’s Tom?”
“Who dear?”
Faye’s heart did a double beat. “Tom? My son?”
“Oh, you mean Tootles! He’s here somewhere...fighting off Captain Hook, I believe. Tootles!” she called out.
A thunder of feet roared from the bedroom, and out ran a bare-chested, bony blond- haired boy wearing an oversize pirate’s hat, a patch over one eye, and a dashing scarlet sash around his waist. He came charging forward, brandishing a wooden sword.
“Tom?” Faye asked incredulously.
The pirate lifted the rim of his hat, and shining out from under she saw two sparkling blue eyes, alive with merriment.
“You’re a pirate!” She could scarce believe her eyes. Tom had never played dress-up before, much less with a stranger. And he was beaming. Faye’s heart melted to butter. “A pirate...”
“The scourge of the Spanish Main, he is,” Wendy said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Well, matey,” Faye said all astonishment. “It’s time to haul anchor and head home.”
The pirate returned a black scowl, turned on his heel, and sped from the room back into the bedroom.
“Tom!”
“He wants to stay a bit longer, Mummy,” explained Maddie sounding so grown-up and proper it sent Faye blinking, wondering if Maddie was in costume as well. “Just a bit. We want to finish building our pirate ship. It’s a puzzle, you see, and we’ve been working at it for hours and hours. Please, pretty please?”
“But I’ve brought fish and chips.”
Maddie licked her lips and looked at the greasy bag with longing but remained firm. “Please?”
“They’re no trouble at all,” Wendy added. “I hardly know they’re here. They’ve been working like beavers, the dears.”
“Please, Mom. We want to stay with Wendy.”
They wanted to stay with Wendy. Not her. Wendy. It just wasn’t in her to fight with anyone else tonight. She’d no doubt get an earful from Mrs. Lloyd, but what was one more attack after so many?
“Very well,” she replied soberly. “But just till eight o’clock. We can’t keep Wendy up any later.”
“Oh, not to worry about that” Wendy chimed in, her face shining. “I’ll be up for hours yet. The stars are just coming out. And it’s a full moon.”
“So I noticed,” Faye muttered under her breath. To Maddie she said firmly, “Eight o’clock. Not a minute longer. Got that?”
“Okay, okay. Tom!” Maddie called out imperiously, running into the bedroom. “Mom said we could. You can come out now!”
“She’s headstrong, that one is,” Wendy said as much to herself as to Faye.
“A handful to be sure. I have to be firm with her.”
“She rather reminds me of myself at that age.” Looking up, she added, “Maddie tries to always do the right thing, so much so that she is afraid to make mistakes. And Tootles, he worries so about you. Every so often he glances out the window to check if you’re coming up the street.”
“He does? She is?” Faye felt she should have known this about her little ones rather than being the last to guess. “I try so hard to check on them, to keep close tabs.”
“Sometimes the hand that rears a child can hold on too firmly. A soft hold, a gentle nudge encourages the child to fly and to make his or her own discoveries.” Wendy’s face softened with memory. “Such marvelous discoveries life holds for them...” Her gaze traveled out the open window, and for a mom
ent she seemed lost in her own reverie.
Faye looked through the bedroom door at Maddie and Tom, laughing while dueling with swords. They seemed so carefree up in the nursery.
Wendy drew herself back up. “You look tired, dear. Care for a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” she replied. “I’ll just go eat these fish and chips. Are you sure you don’t mind, Wendy?”
“Quite sure. Take all the time you want. It would be a shame if they couldn’t finish the puzzle. It’s always good to let them finish what they start. Gives them a sense of completion and pride that’s so important at this tender age.”
“Right,” Faye said, listening.
I’ll be right here, ears and eyes on the alert. So off you go.” She reached over to pat Faye’s hand and look deeply into her eyes with a maternal air. “Take a minute to lift your feet in the garden, why don’t you? It’s ever such a lovely night. You never know what magic might await you. I’ll send your little ones down promptly at eight.”
“All right then,” Faye found herself replying. “Just till eight, though. And Wendy, thank you.”
It wasn’t until she was halfway down the stairs that Faye realized that Wendy, in her neat and tidy way, had just shuffled her out the door.
* * *
The garden seemed otherworldly. Faye slumped into the coolness of the iron chair, lifted her feet, opened the bag, and began her dinner. When she bit down, the fish tasted cold and greasy, mush in her mouth. She stuffed the tasteless morsel back into the bag and laid her head on her hands. What she was really hungry for was something fish and chips couldn’t fill. Her heart cried out for someone to help her.
Please. Someone show me the way out.
Then she heard the music.
It was the same, sweet melody that she’d heard Saturday night from her bedroom. A flute, or perhaps a reed pipe, and it was coming from somewhere quite near. It made her feel cozy and safe, like seeing a light shining from an open window on a dark night, or coming home from a long journey to find a quart of milk and a loaf of bread put into your fridge by a friendly neighbor.
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