Love on the Back Burner

by Barbara Oliverio

  “We seem to be the losers here,” grumbled Elliott, as he slurped his chicken noodle soup at the deli on Monday.

  “How so?” I asked. I tucked into my favorite offering, the Greek salad.

  “Well, I know for a FACT that you had a date that you cooked for this weekend.”

  I looked at Natalie. “Really? How would you know that and how does that affect you?”

  Natalie took an unusual interest in her muffaletta sandwich.

  Elliott said, “Well, first of all, the date obviously couldn’t have worked out well—”

  “Um … obviously?”

  He continued, “Yes, obviously. Because, had it worked out well, then we would have heard something about it before”—he checked his watch—“12:15.”

  “I see.” I leaned back and crossed my arms. Elliott ignored my body language and also ignored Natalie’s obvious kick under the table.

  “Yes. So, it didn’t work out well. And when you have a date that doesn’t work out well, you have tons of food leftover and you bring it in—what?” Natalie had pinched his forearm.

  “Well. Hmm. Nice to know that you two are rooting for my romantic life.”

  “Hey, don’t associate me with his warped sense of logic!” Natalie shot Elliott a look.

  “Oh, no. You are innocent. All you did was inform him of my date after I told you about it in confidence, or so I thought it was.” I signaled to the waitress.

  “Since when are your dates a secret?”

  “Since the two of you make book on whether or not your Monday lunch revolves around them.” I requested a to-go box, and as I waited for it, I stared ahead, pouting.

  “Come on, Alex!” said Natalie. “You can’t honestly believe that we bet against you just so we can get a nice lunch on you.”

  I moved my salad to the to-go box and stood up to leave. I looked between the two of them, glowering.

  “No, never. But today, MY nice lunch is on YOU. See you at the office.”

  Back at my desk, I stabbed at my salad with more force than necessary and shoveled it in as quickly as possible.

  Humph. Some friends. That’s all I’m good for, some sort of personal chef. Why, I’d just as well show up to work wearing my apron and cooking clogs. At the thought of that, I started to giggle to myself. No matter how miffed I was at Natalie and Elliott, I would never compromise my sense of style. Yep. As comfortable as they are, cooking clogs are to be worn in the kitchen only.

  “Mama would never leave you at home,” I murmured to my new Steve Madden boots, turning my feet back and forth to admire them.

  “Leave what at home?”

  Darn it! I was going to have to put a bell on Cam Grayson’s neck so he couldn’t sneak up on me anymore. You’d think that I’d catch a whiff of his cologne. Not that it was unappealing cologne ...

  “Um, just thinking over some marketing copy.” Nice. That was a smooth cover.

  He gave me a sidewise glance.

  “Sure. Um, anyway, where are your partners in crime? I have new software to install on your systems, and I wanted to make time to train you on it.”

  Couldn’t he have sent a meeting request? Sheesh. This guy.

  “They’re at lunch.”

  “Really? Without you? I thought you left together?”

  I must have had a strange look on my face because he continued quickly. “At least that’s what the

  receptionist said.”

  “Uh, yeah, we did leave together, but I ...” Wait, there was no need to go into our lunchtime discussion, because that would just bring up my dating woes AGAIN and I didn’t want Cam to get in on that any more than necessary. “I had some work I had to attend to. In any case, I’ll let them know when they get back, and we’ll send a meeting request. Okay?”

  “Okay.” But he didn’t leave.

  “Anything else?”

  “No. I guess not.”

  He started to walk away, but Natalie and Elliott arrived, so he returned.

  “Ali, we are SOOOO sorry.”

  “Alex, will this make up for it?” Elliott pulled a giant chocolate chip cookie from a bag.

  “Sure. Fine. All’s forgiven.” I attempted to indicate that I didn’t want to continue this discussion with our omnipresent IT manager around.

  “Seriously, Alexandria, we really—” began Elliott again. Honestly. I was going to have to give him lessons on being aware of his surroundings. James Bond he was not.

  “It’s FINE. Look, we’re good. As a matter of fact, I am in such a generous mood that I want you guys to come over for dinner. We’ll do … Primanti sandwiches.”

  There. That should distract Elliott. Shiny object. Shiny object.

  “Yay!” It worked. He leaped into the air.

  Cam stopped lurking and actually spoke up.

  “Primanti sandwiches? What’s that?”

  Natalie, Elliott, and I all stared at him.

  “You don’t know what a Primanti sandwich is?!” we all blurted at once.

  He crossed his arms and sat on my desk. “Apparently not, or I wouldn’t have asked. Obviously I know what a sandwich is, but a Primanti sandwich? Enlighten me.”

  “Only the best sandwich ever.”

  “Heaven.”

  “Deliciousness.”

  “I see,” said Cam dryly. “That clears it up entirely.”

  I began. “Primanti Brothers is a restaurant in the Strip District in Pittsburgh—”

  “Strip District?”

  “Not stripper district, so don’t think that.” I shook my head. “Strip District. The area where you can go get wholesale meats. Anyway, back in the day, truck drivers would stop there for lunch and needed something they could eat while they drove. So the restaurant came up with the idea of making sandwiches with your choice of meats, topped with coleslaw and french fries, all wrapped up nice and neat.”

  “All of that on the sandwich?” Cam looked dubious.

  “On the sandwich,” I affirmed. “It became wildly popular even for non-truck drivers, and now they have a small chain of restaurants in the Pittsburgh area. Look, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I don’t make the sandwich NEARLY as good as Primanti’s, but I can throw one together.”

  “Her's are AWESOME,” said Elliott.

  I looked at Cam. Oh why not. “Look, you might as well come over, too.”

  “Really.” Was it my imagination, or was he trying to hide his happiness at being asked. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

  “Yes. All of you. Tonight at about seven. But you moochers are all responsible for bringing dessert.”

  “Yippee!” Really, sometimes Elliott could be a child.

  “Super.” Cam started to walk away.

  “Hey, Cam, what about the software?”

  “What? Oh, right. There’s a new piece of software we need to install.”

  I gave him a puzzled look. “Don’t we have to do it soon?”

  “Oh. We can put it off till the end of the week.” He left, whistling.

  “I can’t figure him out. I’ll be so glad when he’s gone,” I said.

  Natalie looked at Elliott, “Yeah, right. Glad.”

  Elliott said, “Whatever. All I know is that we are having Primanti’s!”

  Chapter Eight

  “He certainly has a great set of flanks.”

  “But can he be tamed?”

  “Well, given his youth and inexperience, I’d ordinarily say no. But in any case, he is a fine stud.”

  I took in this exchange between Keira’s mom and Martin as they examined a picture of a horse they were considering buying. It had been more than a week since he had been hired, and I had driven out to the estate to catch up with Mrs. Graham and find out if things were working out.

  “Well, Martin, you know best. We’ll make an offer.” She walked him to the door. “Oh, and thank you for chasing down that great deal on feed. You’ve become such an asset to me, my boy.”

  She took my arm, and we walked through her k
itchen.

  “Alexandria,” she began in tones that anyone who didn’t know her might mistake for aloofness, “I can’t thank you enough for finding that gem for us. Pity that you two weren’t meant to date.”

  “Mamma G., you know it would be awkward for me to date an employee of a friend. I do think that he is good people, however. I wouldn’t recommend someone I wouldn’t recommend to my own parents for their business.”

  She smiled and hugged me. “And you very definitely are just like a daughter to me. Let’s have a nice glass of iced tea, shall we? I have some fresh mint that would be heavenly with it.”

  We sat at the high maple counter that had been the scene of many late-night cookie-making feasts when I came home with Keira during college, and sipped our tea.

  “Speaking of daughters, what do you hear from mine these days?” she asked.

  “Oh, same old Keira, working hard as ever,” I said cautiously.

  Mrs. Graham shared not only Keira’s patrician good looks, but also her keen people sense.

  “Now, Alexandria, you can’t fool me any more than she can,” she laughed as she shook her blond bob. “Something is up with her.”

  Trust Mrs. Graham not to miss a trick as far as Keira was concerned.

  “To tell the truth, Mamma G., I don’t get a good read on her these days. When we talk on the phone, as long as we’re talking about things that are going on here in Denver, she sounds the same. But when I try to ask about her, she changes the subject pretty quickly.”

  “Hmm. Well, you know she always was one to keep to herself. The most open she’s ever been has been with you, my dear. Even more than with me.”

  That’s true. When we met in college, Keira was not outgoing. Boys who met her thought she was snobby because of her beauty, but in reality she was really just quiet. I quickly learned that she was silent but deadly with her on-point wit and humor. Her calm manner balanced out my tendency to be over the top. We earned the nicknames “Ice Princess” and “Drama Queen,” and those nicknames stuck. Throughout all the years we’ve known each other, however, we’ve always been closer than sisters.

  “Lately, I get the feeling that she is avoiding telling even me something.” I stared into my glass.

  “I feel that way as well, dear. I do think it’s nothing to worry about, though. Keira has always had her head squarely on her shoulders.”

  True. Keira was the most pragmatic person I knew. “It’s just that … she’s always such a great support system for me. If she needs me, I just want to be there for her.”

  Mrs. Graham patted my hand. “I know she knows that, love. You two are two sides of the same coin. The best thing to do is let Keira be Keira. She’ll reach out if and when she needs to.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Now. Catch me up on you. I know how you met Martin, but any other interesting young men in your life?”

  I groaned. “You’d better make another pitcher of tea!”

  Monday evening, I entered Petra Salon for my monthly haircut with Sacha and felt an immediate sense of goodwill. I hadn’t run into Cam all day. (Where was he, anyway? In a company as small as ours, one generally runs into nearly everyone every day.)

  “Hey, Alexandria,” said Charlene at the reception desk as she handed me a smock. “How’s it going?”

  “Going great, Charlene. Is Sacha ready for me?”

  “She’s just about ready. Grab a cup of tea and a seat, and I’ll tell her you’re here.”

  Kendall, the superb color technician who did my highlights every other month, bounced over to the tapestry couch where I was had planted myself, sat next to me, and gave me a big hug.

  “Hey, girl! How’s it going? Do we have an appointment tonight?”

  I hugged her back. Kendall was a petite ball of energy, with deep brown eyes and long brunette locks that she sometimes highlighted with a dramatic stripe of red, blue, or violet.

  “Just my four-week cut tonight with Sacha,” I said.

  “Next time, it’s your turn for your artwork.”

  “Awesome!” Kendall was always upbeat, and sitting in her chair was like getting a shot of adrenaline. As a matter of fact, any visit to the trendy salon—decorated in tones of bronze, amber, and cream—was always an energy boost.

  “Any interesting men in your life, Alex?” Kendall asked.

  “Oh, Kendall, you don’t even want to know the half of it!”

  Kendall grinned. “You always have the best stories! Oops, there’s my cue.” She bounced away to check on her client whose timer had dinged.

  “Hey, Alex!” Sacha came over to guide me to her chair in the middle of the busy salon. Around us, other stylists—in their variations of the black salon “uniform”—worked busily on other customers, and laughter rang out on all sides.

  “Sacha, how’s it going?”

  “Really well. What are we doing this evening?”

  “You know me, Sacha, I just sit in the chair and let you do your thing. Just cut it short and sassy!”

  After a shampoo, we eased into conversation as Sacha’s scissors moved around my head. I watched her concentrate. Sacha, like Kendall, was a dynamic, long-haired brunette with jet-black eyes and a cover girl smile. And she never failed to cut my short locks with razor-sharp precision.

  “So, Alexandria, how’s the dating life?”

  “Like I was telling Kendall, you just don’t want to know!”

  “Come on, spill!”

  She laughed as I told her the comic misadventures of my last several dating encounters.

  “Oh sure, Sacha, laugh. You’re happily married. You’ve escaped all of this!”

  “Oh, I remember what it was like. But listen, if you don’t mind, and you’re up for it, I have a new client I think would be perfect for you. He’s a really nice guy, and I think you’d get along real well.”

  A fix-up? I hadn’t been on a blind date in such a long time.

  “I don’t know, Sacha, what makes you think we’d be good together?”

  “He’s really funny and cute. I actually thought of you when he first came here last week.”

  “Hmmm. Well, you’ve never steered me wrong in cutting my hair. I guess I could trust your judgment in men.”

  She grinned at me in the mirror. “Plus I know he has a good head of hair.”

  I thought about it.

  “Why not? Give him my number.”

  Who knew?

  The next day at work, we sat in the conference room waiting for our biweekly 3M meeting.

  “Gather ‘round, kiddos,” began Felicia as she swept into the room. “We have a lot to talk about today.”

  “How can that be? We just had a meeting.”

  That was Elliott, who viewed these meetings with the thrill of a dentist appointment. He was happiest sitting at his desk creating the artwork for our projects, his day gladly interrupted with trips for coffee or the occasional break to dissect my dating life.

  Felicia ignored his grousing.

  “At the exec meeting today, I was given the directive to pull together a new marketing pitch. Apparently, Kenneth saw something on the web that he liked, and he wants us to have something just like it.”

  Moans and groans all around.

  “Felicia, again? We just revised the corporate pitch right before the show,” I said. “And remember, it was very well received, and it hasn’t had time to gel in the press yet, and—”

  “Are you going to lecture me on Marketing 101, Alexandria?”

  “No.” I slumped back in my seat. I had been at Media Resolutions for four years, and while it had a great small company atmosphere, the flip side was that Kenneth, the founder-owner, was often given to changing course in midstream.

  “Good,” said Felicia. She flipped on her laptop and began projecting her presentation on the screen.

  “Now that Ms. D’Agostino has approved the change in direction, let me tell you what we need to do.”

  We glanced at one another and prepared
once again to move in yet another direction.

  “How many directions have we gone in now?” asked Natalie as we sat over Greek salads at the deli later.

  “Not sure.”

  I paused with my fork in midair.

  “You know, I started four years ago, and I am not sure we have kept a marketing plan for one complete year.”

  “I bet you’re sorry you and Keira decided to come out to Denver now.”

  I considered that. Keira and I graduated university together and were both recruited by the same huge telecommunications firm in the Mile High City. We were thrilled that as best friends we could move together. However, we couldn’t have anticipated the downturn in telecommunications. While Keira was snapped up immediately by another organization as a consultant, marketing jobs were not as plentiful. I took this job at Media Resolutions as a contractor while I thought things over, and it turned full time and had grown over the years.

  “Hmm. Maybe. But as it turned out, it was good that Keira was here when her father died and her mom was left alone.”

  “But you still could have moved—back home even.” I smiled at the thought of moving back to my hometown. While the thought of moving closer to my parents would have thrilled me, the specter of moving back to a town of twelve thousand people wasn’t appealing.

  “Uh, no thanks. I’m a city girl. Besides, with a full-time job, I can fly in to Pittsburgh and drive home from there when I want to.”

  We chewed for a moment.

  “And, if I moved back, it wouldn’t be to home. It would be to Pittsburgh nearby. Then I could have the best of both worlds.”

  “Not Philly?” Natalie grinned. She knew my loyalty to the Pittsburgh Steelers ran deep.

  “What? And be around Eagles fans? Not a chance! Black and gold!”

  Natalie paused in thought. “You know, Alex, if you are restless in this marketing gig, you should think about doing something that you REALLY are good at.”

  “Hey!”

  “I don’t mean that you’re not good at this, because you obviously are. I mean something you do that you really love and that you do well.”