The Whole Package

by Cynthia Ellingsen

  “What was all the squealing about?” Cheryl asked the second Gabe was out the door.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this . . .” Jackie said, staring at Gabe through the restaurant window. He was loping across the driveway like a young cowboy heading out to rope a steer. As his taut form slid behind the wheel of a white Volvo, they both sighed in admiration. “But that man is gay.”

  “No,” Cheryl bellowed, mouth dropped to the table. She peered at Gabe through the windowpane, pressing her nose to its steamy surface. “Are you kidding me? I already mapped out my future with him and everything. We’re getting married in the spring. Honeymoon is somewhere we can be naked. All the time. You really think he’s gay?”

  “Absolutely,” Jackie mused, smearing on some lip gloss. “And the sad thing is . . . he wishes he were straight more than anything in the world.” She snapped her compact shut with a flourish.

  Grabbing for the container of salt, Cheryl sprinkled a large quantity on her hand and tossed it over her left shoulder, insisting, “No way. Didn’t you see the way he was looking at us, at the waitress? He remembered Doris, of all people. He likes the vagina.”

  Jackie hummed a little tune, smiling prettily. It was obvious she thought she’d spent more than enough time in the art world to have her gaydar in check. “I think he and Anthony are a couple,” she whispered. “In a lover’s quarrel.”

  “Stop it,” Cheryl pounded the table, half in resistance, half in glee.

  Gabe drove past the window, waving and beeping his horn.

  “And if they’re not,” Jackie considered, eyeing him and waggling her fingers, “they certainly should be.”

  “GABE REALLY ASKED about me?” Doris repeated, for the tenth time. Her eyes were bright and starry and she was clutching a steaming pot of tea. A tell-tale bakery box lay on the counter instead of a batch of banana bread and Jackie’s heart swelled with love for her friend.

  “For God’s sake, give me that,” she said affectionately, grabbing the teapot from Doris and setting it down with a plunk. “He’s gay.”

  “You shouldn’t joke about that,” Doris said, sitting at the kitchen table and adding a sugar cube to her tea.

  “Gay people exist, Doris,” Jackie said. “Believe it. There is more to the world than Schaumburg.”

  “Just because I haven’t lived in Paris for the last several years does not mean that I am unfamiliar with the layout of the planet,” Doris said, slamming down her mug and splashing some green tea onto the table.

  Jackie giggled. It was fun to make Doris angry. Whenever she got mad, she’d lean forward and bare her teeth like a bulldog ready to attack. This had always been effective on the soccer team so many years ago, but now it was simply entertaining.

  “I like it when you get mad,” Jackie said. “It’s much better than that even keel the drugs put you on.”

  “They help me,” Doris said.

  “They helped you,” Jackie said, “get through a depression. But do you want to be on them forever?”

  Shaking her head, Doris said, “No. But . . . I just want to wait until I’m sure. Okay?”

  Jackie squeezed her hand. “Okay.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jackie noticed her name on the schedule board. She’d written it up in red marker to help Mandy better manage her trysts. “I put myself up there,” she said guiltily. In the bright red ink, Jackie’s name stood out like the scarlet letter.

  Doris looked up at the schedule board and brightened. “Good, Jackie. That looks good. Now we can all keep track of each other.”

  Trying to fight away that twinge of guilt, Jackie clicked her manicure against the counter. Her nails were looking ragged. It might be time to pawn off another piece of jewelry so she could afford those little necessities like mani/pedis. Jackie considered the sparkling rings decorating her hand. The emerald was way too precious, the solitaire from Tiffany too sentimental, and the pretty pink cocktail diamond . . . not a chance. Jackie was going to have to dig into her regular jewelry stash and sell off pieces like that bracelet from Hawaii. The thought made her feel sick.

  “You’re thinking about Gabe,” Doris guessed, grabbing a gingersnap off the plate set in the center of the table. “Isn’t he beautiful?” Jackie nodded. He really was. “I can’t believe he remembered me. What if he’s my soul mate?” Doris fantasized. “What if the restaurant is a huge success and we become ladies of leisure . . .”

  “You’re already a lady of leisure,” Jackie said, perching on the edge of a chair.

  “What if he wants to run away to an island together?” Doris chewed on a cookie, her thoughts a million miles away.

  “He’d have to wear a swimsuit the whole time,” Jackie said, grinning.

  Doris shook her head and took a sip of tea. “I couldn’t leave my family. I wouldn’t go.”

  “Oh, we’d be fine,” Jackie said. “And if Doug bothered to come back, I’d make him sleep outside where he belongs.” Jackie could have kicked herself. She’d gone too far, actually saying his name out loud. There had been a silent understanding in the house since the day Doug left—the only one who mentioned his name was Doris.

  Doris’s face immediately went splotchy. She set her tea down with a clatter. Instantly, tears streamed down her face.

  “Honey . . .” Jackie said. Jumping up from her chair, she walked over to Doris and put an arm around her shoulder. “Where is this coming from?” Jackie was amazed that someone could go from happiness to devastation in less than ten seconds. Doris was teaching her all sorts of new emotional tricks these days.

  “I miss him,” Doris said, sniffling. “I haven’t even talked to him.”

  “Bien sûr” Jackie repeated, patting her friend’s back each time. “Bien sûr . . .”

  “I just don’t understand it,” Doris said. “What did I do?”

  Jackie pulled Doris’s chair out from the table. Taking Doris’s face in her hands, Jackie stared into her eyes and said, “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything. He’s just going through a midlife crisis, angel. Men do that. Women do that. It’s not personal.”

  Doris hiccuped. “Maybe I should have been nicer to him,” she admitted, taking off her glasses and wiping her red-rimmed eyes. “He thought that I hated everything he did.”

  Jackie shook her head. “Doug was not perfect either,” she said firmly. “Look at me.” Doris’s eyes were watery. “Marriage is work. If Doug was unhappy, it was his job to talk to you about it. You don’t have a slew of psychic powers I don’t know about, do you?”

  “No.”

  “And if he would have told you he was unhappy, you would have done something to fix the situation, right?”

  Doris nodded. Building up steam, Jackie gave a whole speech to convince her that Doug could have done something to change their situation. He could have done anything other than leave. He had options like communicating or communicating or communicating . . .

  Doris finally gave a tiny smile and shook her head. “I would have done anything he’d asked. I love him.”

  “I know you do,” Jackie said.

  The two friends were silent for a minute, then Jackie grabbed a ginger cookie and leaned forward eagerly. “Now, let’s have some fun. Tell me how you’re going to seduce Gabe on that island.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  AS IT TURNED OUT, DORIS DID NOT HAVE TO MAKE AN EFFORT TO plot and pander for Gabe’s attention. From the moment he walked through the door of Millstines for staff orientation, in all of his blond glory, he was on Doris like a piece of oversexed Velcro.

  “My beauty,” he exclaimed, rushing forward. Gabe practically bowed to the floor, covering her hand with kisses. Clearly, Doris loved the attention. She was more animated than she had been in weeks, gesturing with her hands, laughing, and even flirting.

  “This could be really good,” Cheryl said, watching the scene. “Maybe he’s, like, the fairy godmother who can turn her back into Dori.”

  “Just don’t call him a fairy,”
Jackie twittered. “I think he’d get very upset.”

  The staff orientation was a training designed to teach Anthony, Gabe, and the waiters what would be expected of them at The Whole Package. Earlier in the day, Cheryl had set up the main area like a conference room. Now, groups of handsome men were camped out at the tables like models at a runway show. As the women walked through the crowd, perfectly gorgeous faces swiveled their way. Many of them gave flirty waves.

  “This is like heaven,” Cheryl whispered behind her hand.

  Jackie nodded, giggling. “We. Are. Geniuses.”

  Cheryl nodded, looking around the room. “Everything is falling into place.”

  The waitstaff wasn’t the only thing ready to go. The storage room was stocked with kitchen supplies, plates, tablecloths, and decorations. The marketing materials they had selected were all at the printing company and in two days, the sign for the door was scheduled to arrive. MILLSTINES—PIES AND PEOPLE would be replaced with THE WHOLE PACKAGE—COME HERE. This slogan would appear over a caricature of an oiled-up man, beckoning erotically to the general female population.

  “I almost forgot to tell you,” Cheryl said, pulling out her notes and setting them onto a banquette table. “The Almighty George was asking about you.”

  “Oui?” Jackie said, straightening her décolletage and smiling at one of the waiters. “What did he say?”

  “Just wanted to know if you were all right,” Cheryl said, glancing through her notes for the training. “I think we’ll start in ten minutes. Sound good?”

  “Of course,” Jackie said. “Is that all he said?”

  “Yup.”

  At Jackie’s silence, Cheryl crossed something off her notes. Looking up, she raised an eyebrow and said, “He talked my ear off about you for an hour. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you went on a date with him. When were you going to mention that?”

  Jackie adjusted her earrings. “It wasn’t a date.”

  “You two might be really good together,” Cheryl suggested.

  “You’ve already mentioned that,” Jackie said, suddenly angry. “Do I have to hear it again?”

  Cheryl giggled, assuming Jackie’s rage to be a joke. When her fair-haired friend actually stood there with fists clenched and eyes blazing, Cheryl backpedaled in surprise. “Jackie, I’m sorry. I thought . . . I just . . .”

  “Why?” Jackie demanded. “His best friend was my husband and now that he’s out of the way, George thinks he can just have me? I loved Robert.”

  Cheryl was genuinely confused. “Of course you did. What does that have to do with anything?”

  Doris was looking over toward them, probably trying to see what all the commotion was about.

  Jackie lowered her voice. “I am never, ever getting involved with George.”

  “Relax,” Cheryl said in an equally hushed tone. She smoothed down a strand of hair. “Jackie, you’re making a scene. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “Everyone thinks we’d be so perfect together,” Jackie said, practically getting in Cheryl’s face. “But it would be a huge mistake.”

  Since Jackie rarely showed her cards, Cheryl didn’t know what to think. Did Jackie really have feelings for George? It wouldn’t surprise her. Even though George was older, he was distinguished, worldly, and crazy about Jackie. The combination of her and George really wouldn’t be that far-fetched.

  “I’m sorry,” Jackie said after a moment, pressing her fingers into her temples. “I’m sorry, Cheryl. It’s just been a . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Cheryl said, cautiously squeezing her friend’s hand. From the corner of her eye, Cheryl could see Anthony watching them. He was sitting over in the corner, dressed all in black. His muscles were well defined underneath his cable-knit sweater, and his hair glistened under the light. “Well, you look good,” Cheryl finally said. “Anthony was staring.”

  Jackie turned her blue eyes to Anthony. He gave a little nod and went back to reading the management training manual Cheryl had put together.

  “I’m going to go talk to him,” Jackie said. “Okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Jackie trotted over to the gay man.

  Cheryl shook her head. Typical Jackie. The moment things got personal, she ran away.

  Standing alone, Cheryl considered the room. The waiters were seated at several tables throughout the room, talking among themselves. Many of them had brought notebooks, just like Cheryl had instructed. That was a good sign; her staff would follow directions.

  Considering that both Jackie and Doris were hanging all over their two managers, Cheryl wondered if now would be an appropriate time to give a speech about sexual harassment. Unfortunately, even thinking about that word made Cheryl remember her time at TurnKey and the fact that she would have sexually harassed Andy on the copier, Stan’s desk, the stairwell—anywhere he’d asked, if only he’d asked. But of course, he never had.

  Cheryl put her hand to her head, remembering. The night before, she’d made a huge mistake. She was at home alone and had had one too many espressos. After putting in four hours on the paperwork for The Whole Package and her lawsuit against Stan, Cheryl was restless. She wanted to do something exciting . . . Two seconds later, “exciting” turned into “dialing Andy’s number.” Pressing Send was like having an out-of-body experience. Cheryl gritted her teeth and held the phone away from her ear, wondering what she would say if he actually picked up. After four rings, the call went to voice mail. It was only as she heard his message echo in her ear that she’d glanced at the clock. Two a.m. So, thanks to caller ID, Andy now knew that Cheryl had been thinking about him in the middle of the night. The very thought made Cheryl flush with embarrassment.

  “Attention, everyone,” Cheryl announced, clearing her throat and straightening her skirt. “Let’s talk about what it means to be The Whole Package.”

  “GABE WANTS TO go shopping with me,” Doris said eagerly. The meeting was over and they had piled into Cheryl’s car. “He said my shirt wasn’t as flattering as it could be for such a . . .” Doris clapped her hand over her mouth and looked out the window, embarrassed, as though the passersby could read her lips.

  “For such a . . . ?” Jackie prodded.

  “Nice figure,” Doris mumbled.

  “Big rack,” Cheryl said, pulling out of the drive. Doris had always been blessed with the bazookas. She just hid them under those grandma sweaters.

  “Well, that’s inappropriate,” Doris said primly, folding her hands. “I don’t think that’s what he was trying to say.”

  “So are you going to go?” Jackie asked. “Shopping with him?”

  Doris paused, and then nodded. “Yes. But I told him it couldn’t be a date.”

  Cheryl coughed to cover her laughter. “And how did he take that?”

  “He was fine. He knows I’m married.”

  Of course it was fine, Cheryl thought. He’s gay.

  “When is this fun little excursion?” Jackie asked, putting down the rearview mirror and applying some lip gloss.

  “Tomorrow.” Doris beamed. “He’s picking me up at ten.”

  “Don’t buy him anything,” Cheryl said. At Doris’s glare, she added, “He likes you, he’s not using you but . . . it’s too early to hand over the credit card.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Doris said. “But thanks so much for the warning.”

  WHEN CHERYL DROPPED them off, Jackie and Doris piled out of the car and Jackie immediately complained of a headache. Inside, Doris bustled to the cabinet over the kitchen sink. Throwing it open, she eyed a row of pills. “Do you want some Vicodin?”

  Jackie burst out laughing. “No! What is wrong with you? Darling, I didn’t take a bullet, I have a headache.”

  Doris looked confused and Jackie smothered another giggle. “Thanks, honey. I think I’m just going to turn in early.”

  “I think I’ll read,” Doris said, wandering over to the cupboards to hunt for a snack. She was humming to herself and for a moment, Jackie wanted to tease, “Doug
? Doug who?!” but thought better of it.

  Instead, she sneaked off to the guest bedroom and pulled the door shut behind her. She didn’t have a headache at all, just needed some alone time. The things Cheryl had said about George had really gotten under her skin. It was time to nip this thing in the bud. Settling into the down duvet, she took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and called him.

  “Hello, Jacqueline.” George answered on the first ring, clearly pleased to hear from her. “How did the meeting with the waiters go?”

  “We have to stop having these conversations.” She said it cold and clear, like an executioner.

  There was silence on George’s end of the phone. Then he cleared his throat. “Had I asked you about the waiters before? I’ll try to stop being redundant.”

  Jackie was sitting on the bed, legs dangling over the edge like she was in high school, calling a crush. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the wooden box George had just given her, perched on the very top shelf of the closet. She still hadn’t opened it.

  “George, don’t be coy,” Jackie said. “You were Robert’s best friend. I was his wife. I loved him.”

  “Yes.”

  “So . . .” Jackie twisted the phone cord around her wrist, then looked at it in surprise. Who on earth had phone cords anymore? Only Doris, because this was a princess phone that perfectly matched the ivory princess decorations that made up the room’s decor. Jackie smiled in spite of herself.

  “What am I doing with my life, George?” she asked, lying back on the bed. “I’m camping out in my friend’s guest bedroom, which is something out of the Princess Diaries. Plus, I’m having a conversation that borders on intimacy with—”

  “Jacqueline,” George interrupted her, gentle. “I do not mean to rush you. Take all the time you need. But I think my intentions for you are quite clear.”