by Julia Ariss
Her neck and shoulder had mobility again, having unstiffened from another punishing, knock-down session of piloxing, and as luck would have it her date fell on the Friday payday cycle, surely a good sign she felt, which would allow her to scoot out on the day and buy new mascara; everything was dovetailing. One small consolation of handing over her remaining discretionary funds to Erasto was that she could legitimately plead poverty when she was cornered on the elevator on the day before her date, but Evie had an answer for everything.
"Nonsense," Evie said instantly. "Of course you're coming out for a drink. It's Thirsty Thursday. And you overpaid last time, so I owe you one and besides..."
Sensing what lay in store, Fanny nodded her consent and waited for it.
"You haven't R.S.V.P'd my party yet, which - may I remind you - is Friday night. That's tomorrow. It's a the-more-the-merrier, come-one-come-all sort of bash. Richard's coming. And a bunch of his pals. Only for the flaming cocktails, of course, not the jewellery," Evie added, chortling with pleasure.
"Darn, Evie. So-o-o tempting but I've already got other plans. A prior engagement. I was just about to tell you."
"Other plans?" she said, slowly eyeballing her up and down. "How very non-specific of you. Maybe what I should do is reschedule the thing."
Fanny remained stone-faced as Evie scanned for mock-enthusiam. She was by now well-acquainted with Evie's distaste for unsanctioned events, especially when she was not included, but blurted out her objection anyway. "No, no don't reschedule, Evie, at least not on my account."
"Don't be silly, it's too late for that, I've got thirty-five people confirmed... and counting. It was a sincerity test, which you flunked. Are you sure you're busy?"
Evie's crestfallen face was more than Fanny could bear; this wasn't just another command performance, she was genuinely wanted there, had been counted on even. And she did hold stock in Evie's essential goodness, despite her funhouse approach to entertaining. "Evie, you know I would absolutely go to your party if I could," she said. "And it's only because of your persistence and sage advice, I should add, that I can actually boast about a conflict in my social calendar. I'm having dinner with an old friend. Networking!"
Evie's lids grew heavy, and she yawned a yawn of dismissive boredom then pulled out her cell phone and scrolled absently with her mouth set tight. Fanny realized only full disclosure would suffice. The elevator stopped on a lower floor and just as the doors swung open she turned to Evie and said quietly, "It's a date, sort of."
"What? You're going on a date?" Evie exclaimed, giving her an all-is-forgiven, airy wave of the hand. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" It was then that they both became conscious of Jack standing stiffly beside Fanny, eyes dead and pointed straight ahead. "Well, thank you for fessing up," Evie said, pleased.
"Don't mention it," Fanny said, meaning exactly that.
"Hello Jack, I was just getting caught up with Fanny," Evie said cheerily.
"So it seems," he said, looking past her and rubbing the back of his neck.
"She was my cubicle neighbour and I do miss our little chats over the partition," she said, giving Fanny a meaningful nudge, "now that she's been repositioned."
"I hope you're finding the change sufficiently challenging, Fanny," he said, turning only his head to her, but moving in closer.
Fanny could feel his arm under his jacket lightly pressed against her own and glanced away briefly. "Yes," she said after a moment. She swallowed hard then continued, "I've really had to put on my thinking cap, but I'm catching on. It's a chance to shift paradigms, think outside the box."
"Good. By the way," he said, under his breath, "a mandatory four-day work week will never fly with our Board of Directors. They like the thinking done inside the box... nice try," he scoffed.
"Though it would create new job openings and fall in line with our mission to act as stewards for the younger labour market and help them gain that crucial first work experience. Barrington should be at the sharp end of tackling youth unemployment. Didn't mean to get anyone's back up," Fanny muttered, fixing her gaze on the doors.
The elevator came to a stop at the lobby level and as the door opened he leant down and lightly grazed her ear with his lips as he whispered, "Didn't you?" then strode into the lobby and toward the street.
"Damnnn, he's good looking," Evie murmured, as he disappeared.
"Unjust," Fanny grumbled. “That sort of genetic good fortune should be spread out equitably, amongst the deserving."
***
Fanny was seated at her table overlooking Toronto in the rotating rooftop restaurant atop the CN Tower, averting her gaze and fingering her spider brooch. This was classic George, good time George, the thrill-seeker and daredevil she remembered. He'd reserved a table nauseatingly close to the window, which she was picturing him fearlessly pressed against whilst staring down in awe, moments after his arrival. He'd been considerate, she felt, in texting just as she'd settled in to let her know he was running late. It allowed her to wrestle her jitters down with a glass of wine and gape at the tourists, if not the view.
"I've booked us in for the Edge Walk," George said, as he swaggered toward her, thirty minutes later. "Nah, let's save it for next time. Just thought we should avoid the Bay Street crowd tonight. We're here to take in the views, but the food's not bad, either."
As Fanny rose he swooped in for a hug and boldly stole a kiss devilishly close to her lips, and she teetered on her heels before toppling back into her chair. She sneezed twice in quick succession. Nerves, she told herself. "Yes, spectacular," she remarked, her eyes fixed on George as he ogled the city below. "I'm not accustomed to such swish surroundings."
"You fit right in. You're the only reason they let me in," he said as he turned toward her. "I hope I pass muster," he added, pretending to preen. Fanny took in his bespoke suit and well-shined shoes.
"Yes, of course," she replied, watching him swan about the table, loosening his tie. Same old George she concluded, not unhappily. She knew from the moment the waitress drew near, that apart from the dark circles and weight loss which was unremarkable given his exciting new career, he still had it.
"No thanks, I'll just have a mineral water," he answered smoothly as he released the waitress's eye lock and turned to Fanny. "I no longer imbibe."
Fanny lightly touched her throat and blinked heavily. From nowhere, George's hand was squeezing her arm consolingly as he slid into his seat.
"Just kidding. I'll have a dry martini," he said to the waitress with a wink, "and bring a bottle of whatever she's drinking. I've always been suspicious of people who refrain from drink. You're a breath of fresh air, Fanny, and ...weird. I mean interesting. Are those eyeballs on your scarf?"
"Marbles. But they do sort of look like they're staring accusingly," she replied, sighing contentedly, but he was already distracted, touching her brooch.
"Family heirloom?"
"You'd think, for all the attention it gets. Alas, just cheap costume stuff."
"Still, it looks familiar. My grandfather was a jeweller for Birks. Some of their vintage stuff was unstamped. It's really come up in value in recent years. You could get an estimate. I consider myself an authority on diamonds," he said, leaning in closer and catching her eye. "God, you look dazzling."
Fanny would have gladly allowed him to carry on indefinitely in this vein, disinclined to disrupt the flow of wine and compliments, were it not for a moment of lucidity a half hour later in which she remembered to ask about his work.
"...gifting services, products, and money for local and international charities," he said, summing up, after a protracted explanation. Then, pausing for emphasis, with his hands folded into a steeple pointed in her direction, he continued. "And the best part, Fanny, the kicker is the incentive for the donors. It's all tax sheltered, so it's win-win. The Endowment Foundation."
To ask him to slow down or stop to clarify points would just be rude and interrupt the flow, she warned herself. He spoke with
such fervour, a presenter not to be derailed by specifics, so she concentrated on looking engrossed, weeding out the buzz words and straining to pick out key elements. And from what she could glean, he was on to something, something big this time, perhaps his best scheme yet.
"I realized it was time to grow up...to do for others for a change," he said, as he cut into his steak. “To channel my energy and ambition and resources into something positive, where the rewards are more intrinsic. Good works, Fanny."
"My, you've transformed," Fanny said, smiling widely. "I mean that in the best possible way. Really. It's refreshing to see this other side of you. I have to admit, I used to think you were much too preoccupied with money, with accumulating it, anyway."
"I'm focusing on wealth redistribution," he said, his head cocked to the side, grinning. He chuckled and drained his glass. "You always had a bias against the rich, now that I think back."
"A bias against the arrogant, I do, and the sense of entitlement that so often goes along with it."
"Then you must find the Chairman of Barrington interesting," he said, as he stabbed a mushroom with his fork.
"Oh, have you met him....Jack Fitzwilliam?" she asked, putting her fork down.
"Old money, but I wouldn't hold that against him. He comes from good stock, so to speak, but what do I know. It's been a long time. We went to the same Boarding school. He was a couple of years ahead. I doubt he keeps up with the old boys. I like to stay connected and, now that I'm able, lend my support to the school. Quietly."
Has Jack always been so... so difficult?"
"The tin man? A bit stiff, deadly serious at times, but from what I remember a decent enough guy. But I haven't known him since he was promoted to Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Must be a tough gig."
"The tin man, eh? Well, he doesn't suffer fools gladly; that I know. I've put my foot in it a few times already and brought some unwanted attention to Barrington. But yes, he does come from good people. His aunt's nice and... very helpful. I think he views me as a nuisance, mostly. And a troublemaker."
"An incorrigible naughty-boots. The worst kind. Please... elaborate."
"There's a reporter from a tabloid who's being a pain. Did you happen to see those ghastly photos?"
"I keep them by my nightstand." he said, flashing his trademark cheeky grin. "Come to think of it, someone or other did forward a link with the pictures. Helena, maybe. Hardly reputation tarnishing stuff, for either of you. Just tell Jack to lighten up."
"Dicey. It's the everyday things I'd miss the most - without a paycheck - like my sweet little apartment for one. Groceries. I dunno...running water."
"You left off wine," he said, as he refilled their glasses.
"An oversight. Oh, did I mention he has a winery."
"Of course he does," he said drolly, releasing a snort.
"But it's unlikely he dwells too much on the likes of me, thankfully. He's got bigger fish to fry. The thing is - I don't know where I stand at Barrington. And I haven't had a chance to prove myself indispensable to my department head yet. The photo scandal hasn't helped. It's all a bit touch and go."
"It'll be his loss," he said, signalling for more wine.
Fanny felt a tug at her conscience for dissecting Jack so freely with his old acquaintance, but not enough to thwart her next move. "I brought my C.V. I thought maybe-"
"Shrewd...," he said, "I know we can work together Fanny. We'd make a good team, but first we have some more catching up to do, the two of us."
And by catching up he meant they were falling behind and by falling behind he was referring to their drinking schedule, which she attributed to the elevated sense of occasion their reunion had ignited. And why shouldn't he kick up his heels?, she told herself. He was, after all, accomplishing great things, having reinvented himself as a modern-day Robin Hood, proving that people have the capacity for great change. And he appeared to be re-examining her, after all these years, with a fresh pair of eyes.
But she had the good sense to pace herself; her head was spinning already just calculating his dizzying projections for the future. But she could see he had it all worked out. When she brought up her concerns about the homeless, and Erasto in particular, he seemed touched, bravely open to suggestion, in an anything goes manner. All this and he still hadn't given her resumé even as much as a passing glance.
"I don't need to," he reassured her breezily. He was determined to use her, though vague on particulars which he pledged to sort out, his eyes glazing over at the mention of time frames. "Enough shop talk, Fanny, and let's talk about you, specifically your social life, and by social I mean, well you know what I mean. Regale me."
Fortunately, to Fanny's immense relief, George didn't press for a detailed accounting, so moments later, having made short work of that subject, he launched into a selection of war stories from their glory days at school, and when the dining room lights eventually dimmed for last call, he slipped the waitress his credit card. As they strolled outside a panhandler beckoned and he instantly dug out his wallet and rifled through, handing him a fifty. He insisted on sharing a taxi and delivering her home safely, allowing the meter to run as he escorted her to her door, for which she silently awarded him points. "I'm no cad," he said, softly punching her arm. “We'll just keep things professional and...and business like for now, kay? Strictly by the book, alright Fanny?" But before she could respond he was already upon her planting a non-regulation length kiss, to seal the deal. Cologne, she thought, suppressing a sneeze. Shortly afterward she shut the door behind her and leaned backward for a steadying few moments, then, wrapping her arms around herself and squeezing tight, she sprang toward the kitchen to pour a tall glass of water.
7
"If someone seems too good to be true, they probably are," Evie said, shaking her head and shrugging half-heartedly.
Fanny sat grimacing in the change room at work as Evie's fingers dug into her shoulders in an attempt to undo another back-breaking piloxing session. But Evie was no Richard.
"So yes, it turns out Richard bats for the other team. Who knew?" Evie quipped, kneading harder.
"I guess it must have put a damper on things for you, after you connected the dots. At your party, I mean," Fanny said, wincing. But Evie was never one to drown in the black waters of despair.
"Not a chance. One of his friends brought a life size cut-out of Adele and someone else carted in a karaoke machine. Oh, and one of the guys tried to improve the chocolate fountain with Grand Marnier and it turned into gobs of molten curds and barf so they uploaded it to Youtube and now it's gone viral. These people are serious partiers. God, I wish you could have been there. Oh, but I forgot. How was your date with what's-his-name?"
"I did say sort-of date. We're keeping things... tidy. Strictly business. He started a non-profit foundation a while back and he wanted my input which I'm pretty sure he doesn't actually need, but still... flattering. Huge success already, apparently. But it's nice being consulted on the bigger issues. Balm for the ego. Perked me right up. We had dinner at the C.N. Tower and talked into the wee hours." Fanny saw no reason to set off any alarm bells about the new job yet until everything was properly settled, closer to the date. She found herself in the enviable position of being recruited while still employed, but she dared not burn her bridges. Thus far he'd only talked the talk.
"Really? Odd choice. I mean...touristy, but I suppose the city views must have been worth it. Was there at least a bottle of wine involved?"
"At least. I know how to pick 'em."
"Well I hope he had the decency to get you home safely after all that free advice you gave him."
"It was complimentary. I mean my feedback. And yes, he was very courteous and conveyed me...safely," Fanny said, growing crimson.
"But mixing business and pleasure. Is that wise, Fanny? And don't think I haven't noticed you squirming," she observed, as she plunged her fingers in deeper.
"All on the up and up."
"Mm hmm. Just don't sign
on the dotted line until you've read the contract."
Despite feeling keyed up about her prospects for the future, her enthusiasm was tempered by cautious optimism and a sense of gloom about how she was going to fill the void without Evie. Evie was an engaging colleague, a comrade-in-arms, reliably brimming over with all manner of advice, as unreliable as it was. George definitely wasn't too good to be true. She'd checked. He'd been true to his word and kept things professional, with nary a text all week-end, so she'd set about doing a quick background audit. She didn't need social media to inform on George, the website of his former boarding school boldly spilled the beans. They were thrilled to announce an anonymous donation from a former alumnus to be used toward scholarships. George had said he liked to give quietly. Teamwork he'd said to her. They were to be a team.
***
Fanny was in high spirits when she greeted her father at the Szechuan place on Spadina the following week. Only moments earlier she had been the recipient of a picture from George, his first communiqué since their night out. He was laughing whilst popping the cork on a champagne bottle with its suds spilling down the neck, with several pairs of hands clapping nearby, celebrating some milestone or other. There was no accompanying text but none was required as far as she was concerned, for the message was implicit. He was urging her to share in his accomplishments - to team up for the greater good.
"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the elaborate basket sitting on the floor beside her father.
"It's for you. Katherine sent it. It's a gift basket from the Spring Fling."
"Wow! I won! I can't believe it. I never win anything."
"Cool your jets. You still have the Bower luck, my dear. Jack won it. However, he thought you might enjoy it more. He must be something of a gambler. He bought the lion's share of the tickets for that basket so the odds were stacked in his favour."
"I don't get it. Why would he pass this up? Just look at all this stuff. What a bonanza. Pinot Noir, ice wine, wine glasses, corkscrew, nuts, bonbons, shortbread, tea, teapot, tea cosy, candles, bookstore gift card... Oh, and an audio book set of the classics. What luck. These might come in handy, actually. Wait a second, is this catnip? Weird."
