by Hope Lyda
“Dang it. The only night I leave the office before seven. What did she need? Dinner reservations for some swanky singles bar in Dallas? Or did she have a hangnail?”
“No. It’s big. Well, interesting at least. Rachel, do you know if there has been any communication with Cecilia about the transferring of some of her accounts to Blaine? Remember that group of files I snagged? Apparently Cecilia knows nothing about this.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“She got a call from Crest Ridge saying they were sorry to not be working with her anymore. She had no idea. But she said her email wasn’t working and so maybe there’s an email from Ken about all of this. Do you have any idea?”
“I think Ken was sending something out to Cecilia via Tara. I’m out of the loop on the big stuff.”
“Well, this won’t help her response to this news, but at least she’ll be informed.”
“I’m so glad you’re the one that Cecilia called.”
“One more thing…I need you to come to the reading group. I told Marsha that was why I called for your number. I was afraid she’d get snoopy.” I was milking this.
“Swell. Just what I want to do, bond over trash lit.”
“I didn’t know how else to…”
“How does it feel to be a part of Cecilia’s tangled web?”
“Exhausting. Absolutely exhausting. You didn’t say yes to the reading group.”
Rachel sighed and said, “I guess the good part is that they can’t talk about me if I’m there, right?”
Fourteen
Rachel picked me up shortly before 7:00 to head to Elliott Bay Book Company. She had a large Americano in hand, and I could tell it was at least her second since she left work ninety minutes earlier.
“Too bad they don’t meet at a bar. That sure would help my mood.”
“And they wouldn’t pollute my sacred bookstore with this trash. Here, look at this.” I tossed her my copy. “Good thing I didn’t try the ‘couldn’t find it anywhere’ excuse. I stepped into Barnes and Noble and nearly tripped over a huge promo display. They even enter your name in a drawing for a trip to Tuscany when you buy the book.”
Rachel glanced at the cover and rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable. Though wouldn’t it be something if you won?”
“I used Marsha’s name in case they were using the drawing as a way to gather email addresses for the marketing of other similar reading material.”
“You overthink things, don’t you.”
I shrugged. There was no way to discount the truth.
By the time we parked the car, Rachel had lined up a friend to call her by 8:15 so she could fake an excuse to exit. I made her promise to take me with her.
“Girls. Over here!” Marsha waved excitedly and shouted as soon as Rachel and I made our way to the downstairs area of the bookstore.
Keeping Temptation in Tuscany tucked inside my sweater, I looked around to note who else in this city would be witness to my cheap reading material.
“Yoo-hoo. Let’s get this party started.” Marsha raised her voice to an ear-piercing shrill.
Rachel grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the center table where the three other women were seated. “This won’t end unless it begins,” she muttered.
“We never thought we’d see you here, Rachel. You are so mysterious. We were starting to think you had some fabulous, secret love life on the side.”
“Just good taste.”
Marsha didn’t seem to understand Rachel’s jab, so she smiled and reached for her copy of the book. “I’ll start the discussion. Steamy, definitely. Too hot to read when you have no one to share it with. Right, Libby?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but why bother.
“Sasha, now you.”
Sasha fanned her short auburn hair several times with thick hands, a pensive expression on her face. I wondered if she was thinking of another word for steamy so she would not look like a reading group copycat. “I found it to be…”
“Don’t look now, but a very hot guy is checking me out. He’s coming over here. If he asks to sit down, the rest of you have to vamoose. Got it?” Marsha spoke through barely parted lips that were spread in a welcoming smile.
I didn’t turn around to look. Instead, I skimmed the back cover of Temptation so I could come up with my own borrowed adjective.
“Join us?” Marsha asked, leaning forward, her chest grazing the top of her cappuccino foam.
All of a sudden the cheesy descriptions disappeared as a pair of hands covered my eyes. Startled, I dropped the book, and I heard Marsha drop back down into her chair with a thud. My hands flew up to the jokester’s hands. They were smooth and strong on the outside, but I could feel the roughness of calluses against my eyelids. I could hear the creak of a leather jacket.
Angus.
“Hey, you,” I said calmly. The hands left my eyes and Angus stepped to my side so that I could see him.
He gave me an endearing look. “I saw you come in and didn’t want to sneak by.”
“Thanks, Angus. Good to see you.”
Sasha shifted her chair closer to Angus and Marsha raised her eyebrows at me. I wasn’t about to introduce Angus to this gathering.
He liked the spotlight. He looked at each of the women and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Ladies, this is where Libby and I first met. Remember, Libbs?” He leaned down with dramatic flair and kissed my cheek. “You look good, Stella,” he whispered into my hair. I nodded and waved to give him his cue. He smiled at me, nodded to the ladies, and turned to leave. Female stares followed his black jeans up the stairs.
“Rachel doesn’t have the secret life, you do! Color me jealous,” said Marsha.
I changed the subject quickly. “Rachel, what do you like about the book cover?”
Rachel glared at me but took her cue nonetheless. “I was surprised to see pink and orange paired up with such a great piece of literature.”
Sasha waved her hand in front of my face. “Tell us who that was, girlfriend.”
I cringed, but as Rachel said, this wouldn’t end unless it began. “It was Angus. We are friends.”
“What’s with the leather look?” Marsha hummed.
I shrugged. “He’s a rock musician. Black is his thing.”
Marsha and Sasha nodded knowingly. “Uh-huh,” they crooned.
“What are your top ten favorite romance novels?” I asked, dangling a carrot.
“Way to take our reading group to a deeper level, Libby,” Marsha said, applauding.
As they started their individual lists, I turned to check the clock above the café counter. I could have turned the other way and not noticed what I noticed. But I didn’t. And I did.
Ariel was coming from the narrow hallway between the coffee bar and the bathrooms. I knew she hadn’t been working, or we would have seen her. Maybe she was in to check her schedule. My first thought was that Ariel could be my chance for an easy exit. I waved, but she was looking toward a small alcove by the stairs. I scooted my chair out and stood to see past the banister. And I saw him.
Ferris. My Ferris.
He was wearing his dark gray sweater with a white T-shirt underneath. I happened to know that when combined with his perfectly worn Levis he considered himself date ready. I sat down. Ariel waved to her coworkers and walked over to Ferris. They headed up the wooden stairs, laughing together over something. Something their crazy friend-in-common said the other day? Or maybe laughing because they were doing something behind the back of their crazy friend-in-common? Could Ariel be hiding a relationship with Ferris?
Confusion and jealousy flooded my brain. The good thing was that now I couldn’t care less how I handled my exit. I had to get out of there. I turned to the others and interrupted Sasha’s number seven pick with, “Look at the time. I have to go, but it was great. Thanks. See you guys tomorrow.” I stood up to leave.
“Don’t go, Libby. We’re just getting started,” Tara said.
“I’m bummed, but I go
tta go.”
Rachel, still waiting for her emergency call, turned to me with a “don’t you dare leave” look on her face.
“I’m afraid Rachel’s my ride.” My coworker’s face lit up and she stood immediately to follow me out. Her phone rang just as we reached the night air.
“I think I want to walk home.”
Rachel just rolled her eyes. This wasn’t a good area for an evening stroll. We both knew it. I sulked in her passenger seat while she went off on Marsha’s warped view of love, sex, and relationships. I think she was on such a high from leaving on time (and twelve shots of espresso) that she didn’t notice my silence. My eyes were trained on the road ahead as my mind scurried past my recent encounters with Ariel and Ferris.
There wasn’t anything in their actions toward one another that suggested it was a romantic get-together. Except for the date attire. It wasn’t as though I caught them kissing. But they were together in some capacity. Was I so narcissistic (read: insecure) that I didn’t think my friends would choose to do things together and without me?
Yes.
When it came to Ariel and Ferris, I was the common denominator. And I always figured they got along mainly out of devotion to me. Every group of friends was made up of at least two other subgroups. And there were certain subgroups that were perfectly acceptable to see outside of the primary group. Like me and Ariel. Me and Ferris. Or Ariel and Oliver…who had been friends before. But Ariel and Ferris together made a very improbable subgroup. Maybe they had called me to join them, but Rachel and I had left already. Maybe…maybe.
Rachel, high on caffeine and the thrill of getting out alive, sang show tunes at the top of her lungs and barely slowed down to let me out. I dropped my keys on the street and then the sidewalk in my frantic rush to get to my door and to the logical explanation that surely was waiting for me. But when I made it inside my dark apartment…and my eyes went to the phone on the breakfast bar counter…the red light was steady. No SOS signal cast repeated shadows across my wall.
Did I know the people in my life? Here I was seeking knowledge about who I really was, and instead of happening upon some strong truths that would move me forward in life, I was discovering the secret lives of others.
“Eureka!” I stopped mid Sonic Care brushing. Toothpaste sprayed across the bathroom mirror. My party. That was it. Ferris was merely helping Ariel with my birthday dinner. Planning a party is the one perfectly good reason to organize a subgroup of any formation at any time and with any mix of primary group members. Once again, when I paid attention to my life, all the pieces fit together.
Fifteen
I finished creating the last of the new files for Blaine. Surprisingly, I felt a sense of accomplishment with such a small task. My old job was ongoing without points along the way to say “job well done” or to cross something permanently off the list.
“You missed a great conversation last night,” Marsha said through the crack between our cubicles where computer cords fed down to the outlets on the floor. I could see her nostrils and a section of her lips.
I didn’t respond. If I didn’t want to catch the original conversation, I certainly didn’t want to hear her replay version.
“Yo! Libby.”
“I’m glad you had a good conversation.”
“You should be sorry you missed it.”
“Uh-huh.” I slammed the edges of the file folders down on the desk several times to align the edges. Startled, she pulled back momentarily, but soon her eye returned.
“Tara thinks Cecilia is on her way out. Not by choice, mind you.”
“I don’t put too much stock in gossip.”
“This isn’t gossip. Libby, haven’t you figured out by now that the assistants know more than anyone else in this company? We all knew about the merger months before the middle management did.”
“Everyone knew before it was announced,” I said to take away her thunder.
“But I knew about your downsized career days before you did,” Marsha volleyed back.
I stopped shuffling papers. She knew she hit a cord and continued at a rapid pace. “Maybe it was a week before. Margaret from human resources left a list of all the people who would be, how should I put this, exiting the 401(k) program and insurance plan by the coffee machine. I saw it all.”
“I still have those benefits,” I said indignantly.
“There was also a list of those who were being moved to a lower tier of benefits. You were number four. Then, when I was told to move my extra boxes of envelopes and letterhead out of this cubicle, I already knew it was for you.”
“What’s your point, Marsha?”
“Cecilia is on her way out. She hasn’t even responded to the email that was sent to her about some of her accounts being shifted to your Mr. Slater. And if Cecilia is out soon, that means Rachel dear should be job hunting.”
“You sound a little paranoid.”
“Hey, I’m on the safe side of the fence. I’m just letting you know. Besides, you should be happy. Do you realize that if your Blaine is made head honcho, you step up with him. Congratulations, Libby. You could end up saving face, after all.”
“Blaine is not taking over,” I said without much conviction.
“Why do you think we are having an impromptu departmental meeting this morning?” Marsha asked but didn’t really ask. “They want us to bond with Blaine before Cecilia gets back from Texas and starts causing problems, that’s why.”
I didn’t ask “what departmental meeting?” because I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. I smiled and acted in the know. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get this information to Blaine for the meeting. He requested it days ago.”
I watched the thin eyebrow raise and I knew a minor victory had been won. As I pushed backward in my roller chair, I hoped she was wrong, for Rachel’s sake, and maybe a little for Cecilia’s sake.
“How is the house hunt going?” I asked, poking my nose into Blaine’s office.
He looked up from the computer screen and seemed relieved for the distraction. “Good. The search is over. In fact, it looks like we will be neighbors.”
“You’re kidding!” I said a bit loudly. I would have pegged him as a house on Lake Washington kind of guy.
“I’m not a stalker, really.” He beamed unlike a stalker would.
I laughed. “I wasn’t worried. Honest.” I couldn’t help thinking: I wish. I wish. “I just figured you’d go for a different area.”
“Queen Anne is perfect. I walked around this past weekend, and everything I need is right there—great grocery stores, restaurants, retailers, coffee shops…”
“You don’t mind sounding like a girl, do you?” I said, forgetting about those corporate boundaries I was going to work on.
He smiled and shook his head with disbelief. There was an awkward pause, so I started to back out the door until I remembered that I had the files in my hand. “I have your accounts. Do you want them here or back in the file cabinets?”
“Here is good.” Blaine reached for the stack and bit his lower lip nervously as I walked toward him. “I saw you,” he blurted. “While I was walking around looking for girl things.”
“Why didn’t you say hi?” I quickly scanned memories of the weekend. I could only hope he didn’t see me wearing the Little House on the Prairie dress.
“I didn’t want you to think I was following you. I mean, who wants to deal with coworkers on the weekend, right?”
“Right.” I said, but I didn’t mean it. Not in this case.
“And you seemed really focused. I think you were waiting to go into the church. At least it looked that way. The little brick one on the corner?” He was fumbling with some papers and seemed worried that I might be offended. “Maybe it wasn’t even you. I was dizzy from walking up and down the hill looking for a breakfast place a friend had suggested. So…” His voice trailed off.
My face grew hot. “That was me.” I thought about how stupid I must have looked stan
ding there, debating about whether this would be the Sunday I’d go inside.
Blaine seemed to misunderstand the reason for my embarrassment. “You were probably waiting for the bus, now that I think about it.”
“No, it was me…and I was waiting to go into the church.”
He nodded, relieved. “I’m thinking about trying that one myself. That is, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Oh, great. One more reason to be nervous about going. “Why would I mind? In fact, I’m trying out churches, so it isn’t mine or anything. Free country and all that.”
Blaine stood up and rolled up his sleeves, trying not to make eye contact. “Maybe we could both try it this next weekend?”
Just when I thought there wasn’t anything more awkward than attending church as a single, I saw myself walking in to the church with Blaine, his wife, and Adam. A “bring a spinster to worship” ministry for the Slater family.
“Maybe we’ll see each other there sometime,” I offered.
His face fell slightly and he looked at his desk as if looking for something to throw at me. Or maybe he wanted to jot down notes in my file. “Exhibits unhelpful and antisocial behavior.”
“I’m sorry. I was imposing,” he said softly.
“I just need to do some things on my own.”
“I understand completely.” Blaine’s supervisor mode kicked in as he tapped a pen on the desk. “By the way, we’re having a departmental meeting in about fifteen minutes. Ken thought I should address the team now since we aren’t sure when Cecilia will return.”
“Do you need anything for the meeting?”
“Confidence. Any advice?”
He had to be the most honest, vulnerable guy I had ever met in my life. My heart quickened and I couldn’t hold back my smile. “I used to think that when people said ‘just be yourself’ they were highly misinformed. But I’m starting to believe that is what works. In your case, I really believe it.”
“Good last-minute advice. Thanks.”
“Told ya.” Marsha mumbled from behind her steno pad as we waited for the rest of the department to file into the conference room.
