Changes of Heart

by Liza Gyllenhaal

  “But that’s lying, Melina,” Janie replied softly. “I won’t do it. I’m sorry … I don’t mean to waste your money. But I just can’t go through with it. It’s not … ethical.” She felt dumb, and even sloppier than before, but she was determined. She’d rather walk off the set now and never work with Melina again, than jeopardize her professional integrity.

  “Shit, Janie,” Melina retorted after one quick look at Janie’s truculent, ungiving expression. “I’m up the creek on this one. Listen … okay,” she continued, pulling her poncho closer to her, “I’ll tell you what. At least let me do the shoot, all right? Then when we’re done and the film is in, I’ll admit to them that it didn’t work. Maybe they’ll be charitable and split the difference with me, who knows?”

  “So long as you tell them the final ad is montaged,” Janie agreed.

  “You’re something, partner,” Melina replied, but there was laughter in her voice. “And, besides, if things work out the way I think they might, I’m not going to have to penny-pinch much longer.”

  “Another new account?” Janie asked, surprised and impressed with Melina’s ability to bring in business. There were times, such as a moment ago, when Melina’s sense of morality seemed more than suspect. Then there were times like the present when Janie felt Melina’s drive and enthusiasm easily made up for her failings.

  “You’ll see,” Melina answered mysteriously, turning back toward the group around the table. “He’ll be here around noon. He’s going to take us out for brunch in SoHo.”

  “Anyone I know?” Janie asked, following Melina’s flapping red poncho.

  “You’ll see.” Melina laughed. “I want you to be surprised.”

  And she was. Surprised. Elated. Stunned. For there, waiting for them outside the terminal five hours later, dressed in an olive green trench coat and leaning against a tightly furled umbrella was … Alain. For a moment she could hardly breathe, and she couldn’t walk. She faltered and stopped in her tracks, gazing down the sidewalk at him.

  “Janie, come on,” Melina cried over her shoulder when she realized Janie wasn’t beside her. “We’re keeping Alain waiting. What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing,” Janie said, speaking from deep inside her dream. She took a step … then another. Then she started to walk, one foot steadily in front of the other, into the life she had been waiting to start since the moment she first laid eyes on the man at the end of the walkway.

  Chapter 16

  “November wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Zach said, dropping the final figures on Michael’s desk and easing himself down into the leather swivel chair that faced his partner’s desk. Perhaps I should get one of these, Zach thought, running his hand along the chair arm’s cool, smooth surface. Perhaps I should stop being such a miser … such a bastard. He thought again of his latest run-in with Janie and the brutish way he’d handled the situation. She had only been trying to do the right thing, he knew, trying to make everybody be friends. But life wasn’t like that. People weren’t nearly as nice as Janie seemed to think. Still, was it Zach’s responsibility, he asked himself again, to teach Janie the facts of life? Who the hell did he think he was?

  “I’ll say it wasn’t bad,” Michael replied in his awed tones, taking off his glasses and looking at the figures a second time. “Ramona and Chanson are spending like mad. It’s the final push for the holidays, I guess.”

  “Yes, indeedy,” Zach replied sarcastically, “thank heavens for the spirit of giving.”

  “I suppose we should figure out the bonuses,” Michael replied, leaning back and grinning at Zach. “Probably best to do it now when we’re in such generous moods.”

  “I say we give Janie a lion’s share,” Zach hurriedly replied, hoping Michael wouldn’t pick up on the guilty undertones of his suggestion. “Maybe throw her whatever we had slotted for Melina. God knows she’s put in her time this year.”

  “Actually, Zach,” Michael replied, laying his glasses on the desktop and massaging his temples, “you know very well that’s not true. The last few months she’s been … well, far from committed. And the last few weeks she’s hardly even been here.”

  “I think it’s probably been a tough time for her,” Zach tried to reason, “with Melina pulling the kind of stunts she did. I think Janie’s just a little down. We’ll have to think of a way to get the old momentum going again, that’s all.”

  “And I’m afraid it’s more than that,” Michael warned. “It started before Melina’s defection. She and I talked about it then, and I told her we’d understand if she needed a change. Come on, you remember how it was. How many jobs did you hold the first ten years of your career?”

  “What are you saying?” Zach demanded, sitting up and staring hard at Michael. “Is Janie planning on leaving? She actually tell you that?”

  “No, not in so many words,” Michael answered. “But let’s face it, we can both see the writing on the wall. She wanders in late. She’s out of here with the first wave of secretaries. She carries her portfolio with her everywhere she goes. She’s got to be looking. And I say, good for her. It’s important to know when it’s time to go … it’s the only way you really grow in this business.”

  “Maybe for you and me,” Zach agreed, getting up restlessly and making his way to the window. “But not Janie. I think she needs a lot of nurturing to be happy. She needs a home, like the one we offer her here. I don’t think she’s ready for the big bad world, Michael. She’s too … naive.”

  “And for someone who hasn’t really spoken to her for three or four months,” Michael pointed out, “you’re being incredibly caring and protective. You talk about this place being like a family, Zach, but … well, I’m sorry to say it, you haven’t been showing much fatherly concern lately.”

  Zach didn’t argue the point. How could he since it was true? What was the matter with him? He’d been casting around for the answer for weeks now. Was it Walter, who hadn’t called for over a year? Was it the seemingly endless parade of pretty women he kept marching through his life? After Melina, there’d been a two-week thing with the airline stewardess. She’d used up her vacation to stay in New York and be with him, then she’d drawn on sick leave to extend their time together. She was lovely, with reddish blond hair and legs that went on forever, but he knew she was hoping for a certain commitment from him. And he just couldn’t come through. He’d finally told her that he thought it best for both of them if she dusted off her wings. The awful thing, the terrible truth, was that he didn’t miss her. It was actually a relief to be alone with his unhappiness once again.

  It was something of a tradition at Dorn & Delaney for Zach to pass out the Christmas bonuses just before the annual party. He would play his role to the hilt: improvising a Santa costume out of old pajamas and socks. A few years back, he’d bought a cheap fake white beard. It had yellowed a bit over the years, but it still helped Zach’s rather haphazard characterization.

  That year the party fell on a Friday afternoon a week before Christmas Day. Louella, as usual, was responsible for the festivities and—with the partners’ approval—had hired a stand-up piano that came with its own accompanist for background music and carol-singing. Decorations festooned the lobby and bull pen. A small fir sat atop the reception desk, barely identifiable as a tree under its blanket of blinking bulbs, silver balls, and tinsel.

  “Ho, ho, ho.” Zach started down the hall around three-thirty just after the pianist had played the opening chords of “White Christmas.”

  “Have you been a good girl this year?” Zach asked Louella, stopping at the rented round table where she was laying out a buffet fit for a class of six-year-olds: trays of M&Ms, tiers of chocolate chip pecan cookies, baskets of com chips and nachos. These were all Louella’s special passions, and each year she purchased carloads of them for the party, then ended up munching most of them herself. A separate table was loaded with soft drinks, wine, and paper cups. But it was clear th
at food, not drink, held the position of power in Louella’s affections.

  “Yes, Santa,” Louella answered, stealing a handful of M&Ms. “Unfortunately, I’ve been very good.”

  “Here you go then,” Zach replied, trying to sound merry. He handed Louella her envelope and leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Lou. You’ve been a trooper.”

  “Oh, come off it, Zach,” Louella muttered, blushing deeply. “It’s what you pay me for, right? Now, you come on back here when you’re through playing postman and help me get this party off the ground.”

  “Ho, ho, ho.” Zach made his way down the halls. “Merry Christmas. Deck the halls … fa la la la la la…”

  He stopped finally at Janie’s door. Had it been by accident or design that he had saved her until the end? He didn’t know, but he now realized they hadn’t exchanged more than ten words since the argument over Melina. He knocked on her closed door. Since when, he wondered, had she taken to keeping it shut?

  “Come in,” she called. “Oh … hello, Zach.”

  “Ho, ho…” he tried, relieved that with his fake beard she couldn’t see that he wasn’t smiling. She looked different somehow, and he spent a moment trying to work out the change. She still piled her hair up on top of her head as if to simply get it out of her way. But today its very artlessness seemed planned for some effect: soft tendrils framed her face, making her seem vaguely cherubic. Her skin tones enhanced the angelic look: that creamy, almost translucent complexion, highlighted along the cheekbones by what seemed a perfectly natural blush. Was she using makeup or something? Her eyes looked larger, greener. She had on a dark green velvet jumper, a white silk blouse that ruffled a bit at the neck. The whole thing, Zach decided irritably, made her look around three years old, though it accomplished what was probably its main purpose—disguising her bulk. And yet—could it be possible?—he studied her for a moment longer. Was it his imagination, or had she lost weight?

  “You the ghost from Christmas past or something?” Janie demanded after Zach had stood silently in the doorway for several seconds. “Or have you just forgotten your lines? I think you’re supposed to say, ‘Merry Christmas, Janie.’ ”

  “Yes,” Zach answered simply, “and Happy New Year. What are you doing up here all alone? The party’s starting.”

  “I’ve…” Janie stood up from behind her drawing board, hugged her arms to her, and said, “I’ve been waiting for you, Zach.” She sounded very breathy and serious. Zach felt immediately wary.

  “Right,” he said, taking a step toward her and holding the white envelope out. “Here you go. Ho, ho, and all that. Good work, Janie.” Even to his ears, the delivery sounded stiff and false.

  “Oh, no, Zach,” Janie replied, pushing the envelope back toward him. “Not that. I can’t … take that.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Zach responded more warmly. So that was it, he thought with relief, she was feeling guilty about her less than stellar performance. Typical Janie. “Come on, you deserve it. More than anybody.”

  “I can’t take it,” Janie retorted, her cheeks flushing even deeper. “I’m leaving, Zach.”

  “Leaving?” Zach repeated, pretending not to understand. But he did. Regret rushed through him, sweeping through his veins, surging into his heart. She was leaving. Everyone had warned him. Michael had just about spelled it out on flash cards for him a week ago.

  “Yes, the agency,” Janie explained unnecessarily. “I talked to Michael on the phone a few minutes ago … that’s why the door was shut. He wasn’t surprised. But then, he and I had talked it over before this. I hope you understand, Zach. It has nothing to do … with you. I just need a change. I need more responsibility. I’ve stopped…”

  “Okay, okay,” Zach interrupted, circling the envelope in the air. “I get the general picture. I don’t need all the sordid details.” But no matter what she said, and whether she realized it or not, it did involve him. Janie was leaving D&D. And because he and the agency were one and the same in his mind, this meant she was leaving Zach. Rarely had he felt so bad about a woman walking out of his life.

  “I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Janie went on formally, “how much I’ve learned from you. How much, even more than Michael in a way, you’ve taught me about being creative, trying new things. Taking risks. I’ve really—”

  “Spare me, sweetie.” Zach cut her off again. “I’m sorry, but I’m just not in the mood.” He sagged against the doorjamb and slowly peeled off his Santa’s beard. “I’m not much in the mood for that either,” he added, tossing the tattered piece of cotton fluff into the wastebasket.

  “I’m sorry,” Janie said, but less with regret than relief, Zach sensed. She’d been dreading this moment, he realized, but why? Because of the way he might react? Did she think he’d fly off the handle? Accuse her of terrible things? She’d been there when he’d had the showdown with Melina. She probably thought she was in for the same kind of treatment. He felt sickened with himself. She had every right to think the worst of him.

  “Where are you going?” Zach asked, trying to keep his tone light and only casually concerned. He gave her his lopsided smile. “I hope somewhere that’s going to give you buckets of money and a corner office.”

  Janie shook her head and hesitated, then explained in something of a rush, “I haven’t really decided yet, though there are a number of offers out there. I just figured that this was a good time to make a change. End of an old year. Start of the new.” She hated to lie, but she had agreed with Melina that it would be disastrous to tell either partner the truth. A few weeks from now, when the news filtered back to them about where she was, it would no doubt be a lot easier for them to accept.

  “And in the meantime?” Zach asked in a concerned voice. “How do you intend to live? You could free-lance for us, I would think, to help you make ends meet.”

  “Thanks, Zach,” Janie said with feeling, “that’s very generous of you. But I’ll be fine. I’ve … a little money put away. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

  “But I do.” Zach sighed, massaging his temples. His joints ached, and he felt a sudden tiredness behind his eyes. “Isn’t it odd? I know I’ve been a perfect bastard lately. But the truth is I do care a hell of a lot about you. I feel protective. I never had any brothers or sisters, so maybe that’s it. I…” He glanced at her and saw that she was taking his little speech very seriously. “I want you to be more than okay, sweetie. I want you to be happy.”

  “Oh, dammit all, Zach,” Janie cried, and in three short steps she was in his arms. “I’m going to miss you so,” she mumbled into his worn red Santa sweater. He pulled her to him, surprised and touched. Her hair smelled of lilacs or lilies-of-the-valley, something sweet and innocent. He feared for her, he told himself, that’s why he found it so hard to let her go. At the same moment, they both pulled away.

  “You going to this party?” Zach asked, watching her as she blew her nose and fiddled around with her hair. Something about her was different, he decided. She seemed more sure of her movements, less self-conscious. He liked the distinctly feminine way she flipped open a compact and peered at her nose.

  “I look like Rudolph,” she muttered. “I could guide your sleigh, for heaven’s sake. But to answer your question, yes, I have to put in an appearance downstairs. Michael wants to tell the assembled masses about my departure. I’m afraid he intends a toast or some such awful thing.”

  “Tell you what,” Zach suggested as they started down the hall together. “I’ll take you out for dinner after. In celebration of your new life.”

  “I’d love that, Zach!” she cried, turning toward him with a bright eager expression.

  For the first time it really registered with him that her eyes were green. A summer hazel, sunny and clear. Zach stared into her gaze for a long moment and felt himself drifting toward something warm and welcoming. “Good,” he said abruptly, and then forced himself to look away.

  Chap
ter 17

  Facing everyone was a lot harder than Janie had expected. When she and Zach made their way through the crowded room and Janie faced the thirty or so people she had come to know—for better and for worse—over the last five years, she felt her eyes fill with tears.

  “Here’s our girl,” Michael said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Okay, listen up, kids, I’ve an announcement to make.”

  Afterward, Janie couldn’t remember much of what he said, except that it was ridiculously kind and complimentary … and lengthy. Zach claimed the floor then. During Michael’s speech, he had changed back into his “working clothes”: jeans, a black turtle-neck, a well-made but slightly frayed corduroy jacket, a pair of scuffed boots. His dark hair was brushed back, its length disguised. He looked almost respectable, Janie thought with a smile. Then she saw that Zach, who never drank, had a glass of wine in his hand.

  “I’d like to propose a toast,” Zach began, clearing his throat. He gave Janie a tight smile. “To Janie. We wish her much success and happiness out there. And we want her to know that—no matter what happens—she has friends here. She has a place here. If she doesn’t find whatever it is she’s looking for, she’s welcome to come home.”

  It was all a lot more emotional than she had bargained for. But then she hadn’t given this eventuality a great deal of thought. Since that lunch after the City Slickers shoot, she’d spent every waking moment thinking about Bliss & Penrod—that was the name they’d settled on—and about the future that made it possible for her to experience in reality what had until now been only a dream: Alain.

  “Melina has told me a great deal of wonderful things about your fledgling enterprise,” Alain had said to Janie the morning of the shoot as they were being seated at a round table in a small bistro in SoHo. The restaurant specialized in Provençal cooking, and the smells wafting in from the kitchen were redolent of garlic and herbs. The room was painted a bright gold, the color of dappled sunlight, and bowls overflowing with bright fall flowers blossomed on each table. At some point in their swift ride up from the ferry, the sun had broken through the cloud cover, and now the room was suffused with hazy light. Janie, who was terrified that she would be tongue-tied, found herself both at ease and elated to be seated less than a foot away from Alain.