These Foolish Things

by Thatcher, Susan

  These Foolish Things

  A Novel

  By Susan Thatcher

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2013 by Susan Thatcher

  All Rights Reserved.

  Dedicated

  To the memory

  Of

  Nancy Snow Kurrelmeyer

  (Aug. 31, 1962 – Feb. 1, 2003)

  Best friend

  Soul sister

  and owner of the foot up my tush that kept me writing

  Miss you every day, Kurly

  My deepest thanks to

  Diane M. Chubb, Esq. Everybody needs such an Aries in her corner.

  Susan R. Drover. Editor. Couldn’t have asked for a better “second pair of eyes.”

  Nicole Baker Smith, MBA. This wouldn’t have gotten finished without your help (Mario).

  And FUBLFA…

  Gentle Reader,

  This story was completed in 2001. Please read it with the understanding that the intended time frame is the mid to late 1990s.

  Chapter 1

  “Who’re we playing?” Liz Gardner scanned the ball field as she dropped her bat and gear bag. Liz loved playing softball in the North End of Boston. The field was on the harbor and the about late day sun bathed the surrounding red brick buildings in golden light. A lively and loud conversation in Italian attracted Liz’s attention to the bocce court near the ball field, where a hotly contested game was in progress. The air felt soft and warm, a breeze off the harbor blowing away the stickiness that is a trademark of summertime in the Hub. Liz’s shirt, like those of the other members of the firm’s softball team, depicted an alligator in bow tie and briefcase and was lettered with said “Liti-Gators.”

  “We’re playing Brooks, Washburn, Hadley and Dunn,” her friend Millie Wentworth answered, “AKA the ‘Bad News Barristers’. It’s a stupid name,” Millie added with a sneer.

  Liz stretched a little. “Just remember: people have been saying the same thing about us. Scouting report. Hey, Corey!”

  A red-haired man with a runner’s shape bumped into her from behind. “Jesus, Liz, you don’t have to yell. I’m right here.”

  “Sorry. What’s the lowdown on the Bad News Barristers?”

  “Well, Dunn’s been cheating on his wife with Washburn’s wife. One of their star associates just got busted for possession, but they’re keeping a lid on it, that’s him over there chugging the beer…” Corey Lewis had the dirt. If you had to know, you asked Corey. However, sometimes he had too much information. Like right now.

  Millie cut him off. “No. We just want the scouting report right now, not the scuttlebutt. That can wait till after the game.” Several of their teammates had gathered for the report.

  “Oh. Well,” Corey cocked one hip and assumed a thoughtful expression. He played up his role as oracle to the fullest. “Let’s see. That’s not as much fun. Basically, the guys do the playing. The women don’t hit, don’t run and field like they’re afraid of breaking a fingernail...”

  Liz looked at him quizzically. “Why is that?”

  “Because they ARE afraid of breaking a fingernail. Honey, they’re strictly window dressing. Secretaries, receptionists and a bi-curious file clerk.” The other team was filing onto the field. “Look at ‘em – all show, no go.”

  Indeed, the female members of the Bad News Barristers were immaculately groomed and made up from perfect coiffures down to immaculately white designer sneakers.Millie shook her head. “Don’t tell me.”

  Corey nodded, “Uh huh. Tokens so that the team can play in this co-ed league. Plus, they’re sick of the singles bars and this IS the lawyers’ league. Really choice pickings if you want a sugar daddy.”

  Liz groaned. They’d encountered this sort of thing before, but usually the women either stuck to the sidelines or had some skills on the field. As she buckled on her catcher’s gear, Liz spotted one man drinking beer with the cokehead and an artificially buxom, bottled blonde woman who was giggling, tossing her hair and hanging on him.

  Liz laughed. “Hey, Corey, who’s the guy getting the display from the Silicone Queen?”

  Corey smirked. “I’ve trained you well. They ARE silicone and we won’t be seeing HER slide headfirst.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Liz was impatient. “The guy, Corey, the guy.”

  Corey squinted, “Huh. What’s Tyrone Hadley doing out here? I thought he lived at his desk. Boy, he must really want that tacky little trophy.”

  Millie did a double take. “Hadley? Are you kidding?” She looked again. “By God, it is. I saw his picture in the Globe a couple of weeks ago for that huge settlement he got. The Class Action King himself.”

  Tyrone Hadley. Liz watched him while she continued preparing for the game. He was sipping a beer and laughing with the younger man and the Silicone Queen. Liz had seen a lot of handsome men, had even slept with a few, but this one was different. He seemed unconcerned with or unconscious of his good looks. Most of the good-looking men Liz encountered wore their physical charms like a billboard and a shield, daring those around them not to be attracted. Liz heard Hadley laugh at something the Silicone Queen said. She liked the sound as it drifted across the field. It was deep and warm and masculine. Liz felt a tug in her groin that had been absent for quite a while.

  Millie waved her hand in front of Liz’s face.

  “Yo! Reel in your tongue, Girl! You’re drooling. Here.” Millie pressed a beer into Liz’s hand. Liz took a long swallow. “Ask him out.”

  Liz made a face. “No way. Even if I thought it, he’d probably send over a note turning me down.” She sipped her beer. “Very easy on the eyes, though.”

  Millie shrugged, “Like what you see, do you?”

  Liz nodded silently. “Maybe he’s gay.” With that, the Silicone Queen walked away from Hadley and the other man, back arched and hips swinging. Both were checking out her rear view.

  “No such luck,” said Liz, Millie and Corey in unison.

  Liz went back to stretching. “Why is that guys can’t see through that giggly fake act? Why don’t they want someone who doesn’t insult their intelligence? And why didn’t we learn how to do that?”

  “It helps to be waving a big set of jugs around when you do it.”

  Corey interrupted, ”Yours would do nicely, Liz, especially if you lowered your neckline…”

  “That’s not happening,” she snapped. “And you know why.”

  Corey looked ashamed. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” He continued. “¬They can’t see through it because the act is designed to move blood out of the brain and into another organ men use for making decisions. By the time the brain re-establishes control, it’s too late and she’s either on to the next victim or waving the ta-tas at a divorce attorney.” Millie took a thoughtful swallow of beer. “You and I, my friend, were raised to rely on our brains and personalities. Life is very cruel. We’re not bleached blonde trophies…”

  “Excuse me,” interrupted Liz, pointing to her own head, “Highlighted hair here.”

  “Yeah, but yours was natural to begin with. Don’t interrupt, I’m on a roll,” Millie replied. “Some smart perceptive son of a bitch will snap you up any day now.”

  “Andy Garcia?” Liz pretended to look hopeful.

  Millie made a face at her. “Married. Don’t change the subject. Not Andy, but there IS a great man out there for you, I know it.”

  Liz’s face tightened, “How many years have I been telling myself that, Millie? I’m not in my twenties anymore. It’s been years since I’ve been asked out. The only man in my life is a neutered cat and it looks like it’s going to stay that way. I think I’m better off just dealing with being on my own than hoping for something that won’t happen.” She’d made peace with b
eing alone, but it was a bitter, painful peace.

  “Hey, did you use that gift certificate I gave you? You know, the one for the tarot reading?” Millie was deeply interested in metaphysics and psychic phenomena.

  “Yeah. Last night.” Liz started warming up her hands and stretching her fingers.

  “And?” Millie looked around, not wanting this conversation overheard. The only one still within earshot was Corey and he knew that Liz and Millie would not hesitate to beat him senseless and then fire him if he talked. Corey was also into tarot and was all agog to hear this, too.

  Satisfied that the conversation was as private as possible, Liz began.

  “Okay. She said that I am fated to meet a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with a slightly darker complexion than mine.”

  Corey smirked, “That wouldn’t take much.”

  “Shut up, Corey.” Liz and Millie together.

  “Anyway, she put him at around six feet tall, give or take a couple of inches, nice smile. Let’s see, very successful, fit, nice dresser, thick hair he parts on the left, entrepreneurial, drives an expensive car. Um, great sense of humor, but some darkness, too. What else? Passionate, wonderful lover,” Corey whistled. Millie smacked him.

  “Really big…” Liz let her voice trail off deliberately. Neither Millie nor Corey said anything, but she could see their dirty minds fill in the blank incorrectly. “…heart. Gotcha. What did she say? Spiritual soul mates, we’ve been together in previous lives, I think. The Sox have their best shot at the Series this year and I was Teddy Roosevelt in a previous life. By the way, Millie, John Lennon says ‘Ullo,Luv.”

  Millie made a face at her. Corey snickered. Liz paused, searching her memory for the last iota of information from the reading. “There was stuff about shadows and armor. I don’t remember, it’s probably her standard line.” She drank some more beer. “Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, woof.”

  “’Blah, blah, woof?’” asked Corey. “What language does this psychic speak? Or maybe you’ve had enough beer.” He made a grab for the bottle which Liz deftly kept out of his reach.

  Millie stood, hands on hips, feet planted, glaring at Liz. “Listen, you, this woman is for real. She told me all about John before I even met him. So if she says there’s a man coming at you, Honey get out your catcher’s mitt.” Liz held up her glove, grinning.

  “Smartass.”

  Millie looked over at the Barristers. “You know,” she mused, “Hadley fits that description she gave you. Even down to the way he parts his hair.”

  Liz looked again. Millie was right. “So? That proves nothing. How many men could fit that description? And that girl looks like she’s already staked her claim.” She worked her mitt thoughtfully. “Give it up, guys. I have.” She continued to herself, “Got burned. I learned.”

  “What about that guy you were emailing?” asked Millie, “I saw those messages; he seemed interested.”

  “Turns out he was just passing time at work,” said Liz, “I asked him for his phone number and he said he didn’t want to go too fast. This was after 3 months and only contacting me during business hours.” Anger crept into her tone. “He and his buddies must have gotten a huge laugh out of keeping me on the hook. I’ve decided it’s the law of diminishing returns and the pain and humiliation now far outweigh the rewards. I’m done.”

  Corey sniffed. “Excuse me, you told me you had a great dinner with my cousin, Mel.”

  Liz laughed. “My dear, Corey, your cousin Mel admired my shoes and my purse, discussed faux painting with me and got the waiter’s phone number before we left the restaurant. Don’t tell me your gay-dar didn’t pick him up.”

  Corey smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I know, I know. Aunt Hilda’s gonna die when she finds out.”

  Corey sat down, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Look, you’re too great to be alone the rest of your life. And I think you just got your notice to get out the red dress for party time.”

  “Tell you what, you introduce me to him, we’ll have met, the psychic will have been right and life can go on,” said Liz. “Thank you for the gift. I was highly entertained. End of story.”

  Millie scowled at her. “That’s a shitty attitude. He might be interested in you. What if he walked over here right now and asked you out?”

  Liz snapped at her, “I’d wonder what the hell was wrong with him that he’d think he couldn’t do better than me. Millie, take a good look at the woman he’s with. Now look at me. Can you honestly see that man preferring this to that? I sure as hell can’t. I told you, I’m done.” She worked the mitt some more, frustration giving added strength to her fingers.

  The Bad News Barristers and the Liti-Gators were warming up on opposite sides of the ball field. Each side, while paying attention to its own activity, was watching the other surreptitiously. While the Gators were going easy and slow, the Barristers were throwing hard, especially, noted Liz, Tyrone Hadley. There was a set, hard look to his face as he hurled the ball. His partner grunted and yelled, “Jesus, Ty! Ease up, will ya?” Liz had an idea and motioned Millie in for a conference.

  “Millie, what say we dog it a bit in the first innings?”

  “Are you serious?” Millie was aghast.

  Liz nodded, “Yeah. Look, they’re going to be watching us warm up and won’t be expecting much based on THEIR female players.”

  Millie was intrigued. “Go on.”

  “Okay, so you, Cassie, Rose, Nancy and I feed their expectations for a bit, let our guys ‘cover’ for us, let them suck up a few beers, then we lower the boom. You know, we get ‘em with a sucker punch.”

  “I love it,” said Millie. She beckoned Corey over and quickly filled him in on the plan. “Go tell Joe and the rest of the crew while Liz and I, ahem, ‘warm up’.”

  The Bad News Barristers watched the Gators’ pitcher and catcher warm up. They saw the softball thrown in big, soft, slow arcs, usually crossing the plate. They saw the catcher, in full gear, clumsily and weakly throw the ball back to the mound, barely making it sometimes. They heard a lot of giggling and “Oops! Sorry!” in girlish voices. The Barristers relaxed and had another round of beers. The Gators abstained. Finally, the umpire called, “Play ball!” and the Liti-Gators took the field.

  The Barristers had placed their female members in the lineup where their skills would do the least damage and the male players had the best chance to move them around the bases. Whenever a Barrister girl came up to bat, the Liti-Gators would move in from the field expecting weak hitting if any contact was made at all. It proved to be a sound strategy.

  The Barristers used the same tactic for the Gators’ female players, coached into place by Hadley, who was the Barristers’ shortstop. He was a powerful hitter and aggressive base runner. He’d smile, clap and yell, “That’s okay, Honey” whenever a female Barrister struck, grounded or flied out. As part of the sucker punch strategy, one of the male Gators would run in to back up Liz for plays at home plate. She saw Hadley run full force into someone blocking the plate. Her teammate got up, shook it off and yelled, “Are you fucking crazy?” at Hadley, who shrugged and calmly replied, “That’s how the game’s played.” He then accepted another beer from the Silicone Queen with a kiss and an arm around her waist.

  After the fourth inning and before taking the field for the top of the fifth, Liz nodded to Joe who called the team into a huddle. Liz looked around and said just one word.

  “Boom.”

  The Gators grinned and took their places. The fun was about to begin.

  Millie looked hard at Liz before heading to the mound. “Are you sure, Liz? Did you see Hadley clobber our guy at home?”

  Before putting her mask back on, Liz patted her chest protector and looked evenly into Millie’s eyes. “Anything he can dish out, I can take.” With that, she positioned her mask, squatting instead of standing behind home for the first time in the game.

  “Batter up!”

  Millie Wentworth, software engineer, patent attorney and
member of the U.S. Women’s Olympic Softball Team (injured, reserved) struck out the side, including a dumbfounded Tyrone Hadley.

  First up for the Gators in the fifth inning was Elizabeth Gardner, junior attorney, former catcher, team captain and batting champion for the 1983 NCAA Women’s Softball Champions, Northeast Region. The Barristers moved in, their male pitcher smiled (patronizingly, thought Liz) and waited while Liz fidgeted in the batter’s box. When she had adjusted herself into her usual stance, she smiled sweetly back at the mound. The Barrister pitcher threw the ball in a slow, high arc that went into the wheelhouse. Liz smacked it into a vicious line drive deliberately aimed inches over Tyrone Hadley’s head, causing him to throw himself on the ground. Liz thought she had a stand-up double until she rounded first and saw the ball beginning to come in from deep left field. Liz ran faster and slid feet first under the tag Hadley tried to put on her, having pushed his own second baseman out of the way.

  “SAFE!”

  The Gators cheered wildly and the rally was on. Liz dusted herself off and made ready to run for third. She ignored Hadley staring at her. Or tried to. Having the man’s undivided attention was unnerving. She kept her eyes on home trying to ignore the fact that Hadley’s eyes were on her.

  “Nice legs.”

  Liz tried not to smile. “Thanks.” She glanced over to check out his. “And may I return the compliment? I’ve played this game before.”

  He chuckled and looked at her again. “That chest protector was hiding something pretty nice, too,” he said.

  Liz shot him a dirty look and said nothing. He was just trying to distract her.

  “You’re right, that was out of line. Sorry,” he said. “You almost parted my hair with that hit.” Tyrone Hadley had a deep voice with a subtle rough edge to it. The result was something akin to a growl.

  “I didn’t notice. Should I apologize?” Liz didn’t make eye contact, but she tried to keep her voice sounding innocent. She yelled to home, “C’mon, Joey! Try not to hit any bocce players this time.” Joe grinned.