by Julia Ariss
"It must have been assembled with the homebody in mind, but you probably picked up on that."
"Aw...they've thought of everything. There's even a cosy throw and a cushion. An embarrassment of riches. Yikes, I'm going to need a lift."
"I told Katherine it wouldn't be wasted on you even though you've been gadding about town in your spare hours of late. Endless gay song and dance..."
Fanny invoked selective hearing to snub his little jibe. She knew he harboured doubts about her new persona. It wasn't that he begrudged her a burgeoning social life so much as he was sceptical of resolutions that went against the grain. They irked him, somehow. She refused to take the bait, deciding to postpone her news about George until he was in a more receptive frame of mind.
"Well please thank her. And I do love it. It's perfect. Though I suppose I should thank Jack too, when our paths cross. Hmmm..."
"She did send some reading material for him that she wanted you to pass along, so there's your chance. And say hello to him for me, will you? It strikes me that the longer he keeps you in his employ - the more he grows on me. Katherine also sent you some homemade chocolate fancies. I may have mentioned your sudden cravings. They're in the car."
"She didn't have to do that. But yum, that's so thoughtful of her. A thank you note is definitely in order. What else have you told her about me?"
"I told her that you're tender hearted, beneath it all," he said leaning back, amused with himself. “And so is she, incidentally," he added, hastily shifting his glance to his menu and adjusting his reading glasses. "Well why not? Perhaps I'll have the garlic shrimp, string beans and orange chicken. It's a long ride home, the C.B.C. my only companion. She's invited us both to stay for the Labour Day week-end. Just a small gathering this time. If you're free."
"How nice. I'll have to check my-"
"That's what I told her."
"And how is Katherine?" she asked slowly, as she fidgeted with the gift basket.
"Persuasive. She's signed us up for Salsa dance lessons at the University. She was in need of a partner. I warned her she chose poorly, to no avail. Exercise, she says. Hard to argue -that."
"I think it's great, Dad. It's a great idea. Fun," she said, as she concentrated on cushion inspection. Deference to Katherine's opinion was possibly the nearest he would come to a frank admission of his partiality. On such occasions eye contact was to be steadfastly avoided. "Oh, I didn't notice this before, there's something embroidered on the cushion," she said brightly, moving on. "A quote from a Jane Austen novel. And it says: 'Ah! There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort'. It's from Emma. That Jane, so clever with the universal truths..."
"She did have an apt turn of phrase."
***
Jack's reading material exceeded the weight limit for inter-office mail delivery. She'd checked. It was the first thing she did the following morning, after a brief struggle with the absurdly thin inter-office mail envelopes. It was then she decided to stick with her original course of action, the only truly correct one given his good turn with the gift basket, which was to hand deliver them in person, come what may. Her conscience wasn't so unyielding that a quick look inside the bag wasn't in order, but its contents were the disappointing stuff of the work weary, reams of tedious industry journals and the like. She felt for him with the heavy slogging that lay ahead. A small consolation, she supposed, was that if this was the sort of dreariness that cluttered his nightstand, he should have no impediment to a decent night's sleep.
"Something I can help you with?" Tish asked, nailing her with a single scalding glance, after Fanny stepped out of the elevator on the executive floor. Tish was perched atop the desk in the reception area belonging to Jack's assistant - who was nowhere in sight - with her toned legs displayed to their best advantage - rifling through some papers on the desk in a proprietary manner. "Jack's busy at the moment," she added, sniffing imperiously and resuming her snooping.
"Oh, hi. I was um, hoping to give this to Jack or his assistant, or whoever," Fanny said, glancing around.
"She's obviously not here. Probably on a coffee break, again," Tish said, rolling her eyes, "and Jack's tied up in a board meeting. Then I've got him blocked off for an hour," she added territorially, her eyes flashing, looking every bit the tigress.
"Oh, okay. Well, I did promise I would deliver this stuff to him. I guess I'll just e-mail his assistant with an explanation and leave it here."
"Suit yourself. God knows how she keeps on top of things with all this clutter. How many trees have been killed supporting her printing habit, I wonder? Has she even heard of electronic record keeping?" Tish snarled, throwing her hands up.
"Maybe she's developed her own system over time... that somehow defies logic," Fanny offered by way of explanation. "Organized chaos." Things did seem disorderly but Fanny found herself instinctively siding with the assistant.
"Who did you say sent you?"
I didn't. "His aunt."
"How do you know Katherine?"
Typical, Fanny thought. Apparently Jack had not deemed her presence at the Spring Fling noteworthy enough to mention to his girlfriend. She was small potatoes to him, after all. And he probably hadn't given the whole spider incident a second thought. But it did tick her off - the extent to which she felt ticked about his omission. "I met her at a fundraiser. My father introduced me."
"Oh, the Spring Fling," Tish said, flipping her hair and releasing a snort. "I had another commitment anyway that week-end. I heard she didn't choose an event planner from Toronto. Just some local outfit. And volunteers from the university," she added, with a shudder.
"I'll just set these over here," Fanny said, concisely, placing them beside the desk and turning to leave.
"By the way, when did you plan to read my email? The one we discussed," Tish asked archly, awaiting a reply.
"I'm sorry, I started a new position and things got-"
"I requested a receipt," she spat out impatiently, leaning back and giving her the once over. “Listen Fanny, I am very busy and under the gun here-"
"Yes, I see that," Fanny mumbled, over her shoulder. “I'll give it a good look through when I get back to my desk."
"And if you have any questions, you can direct them to the H.R. Director or your immediate supervisor. In fact, why don't I send them both copies right now?"
"Or," Fanny said, between clenched teeth as she spun around, "maybe, if you can block off a slot, we can run through it at the Labour Day week-end gathering. At Katherine's. Jack must have mentioned it to you. That's if you don't have another commitment."
Fanny realized she had sunk to a new low, the moment the words passed her lips. And she knew exactly what had possessed her to say it. But there was little satisfaction to be gained in Tish's bewildered state, for Tish had succeeded where others might have failed, in bringing out the very worst in her.
Relieved to have one monkey off her back, but still somewhat rattled by her shameful conduct with Tish, Fanny sat at her desk later that morning, conjuring a calming scene of serenity, in which she was collapsed on her chaise with her comfy new throw, steadily unwrapping bonbons, tea steeping in its pot, listening to one of her new audio books. The truth was, she had already committed to the Alumni Reunion with Helena that evening and would work through lunch in order to leave early and freshen up at home beforehand. Still, she could dream. She'd received a steady stream of traffic after word spread there were chocolate treats free for the taking atop her desk, a welcome distraction which served to keep any dissenting thoughts about the reunion at bay. Her supervisor had just helped himself to two squares and was in his office opposite her flicking away the coconut from his tie when he sat up straight and looked sharp. Fanny swivelled around just as Jack closed the grey door behind her.
"Hello, Fanny," he said, crisply.
"Oh, hi." Fanny froze for a moment, tongue-tied, then opened her mouth again, set to express her gratitude for the basket, when he put his finger up haltingly to sile
nce her.
"Hold that thought. Be with you shortly, after my meeting," he said, all business, then continued past her into her supervisor's office and closed the door behind him.
If Tish had tattled, he wasn't giving anything anyway with his neutral vibe. She knew there was nothing left to do but look industrious and steel herself for her comeuppance. She moved nervously about trying to create a semblance of order and neat piles but production ceased after she bashed her hip into the corner of her desk. She was softly cussing under her breath, hunched over her desk, when her supervisor's door swung open and Jack emerged, the trace of a smile on his face, and walked over to her desk.
"Everything okay?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning forward.
"Excellent," she said, blinking heavily.
"Good. Look, Fanny, just wanted to thank you for delivering those materials today."
"Oh yes, no problem. And thank your assistant for passing them along so quickly, will you? I'm afraid I sent her quite a rambling e-mail to explain it all, which, to her credit, she very promptly acknowledged. Totally on the ball, that one."
"I happen to agree. I couldn't do without her. I'll pass on your compliments. I suppose I could have swung by and picked them up from your place... had I known your address. Saved you the lugging."
"It was nothing really. My pleasure. A little light reading?"
"Ah, you didn't heed the warning on the bag."
"Which one?"
"The one that said, no peeking."
Fanny smiled, and exhaled happily, encouraged by his abnormally playful mood. "Thank you for the gift basket, by the way. Very much appreciated."
"Oh, right. I'm just glad it found a good home. I had a hunch you might like it. Someone mentioned you're a voracious reader. It seemed appropriate."
"The classics should be very enriching, properly round out my literary education. Lord knows what twaddle I'll be drawn to when I'm let loose with that gift card though."
"No need to reign yourself in. It's yours to gamble."
"Speaking of which, I heard you're a gambling man. Quite shocking, actually."
Jack looked mystified, then grinned and nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm not sure what came over me, what with my weak imagination and various other shortcomings. But the gamble paid off. All for a good cause." He held her gaze for a few moments, smiling, then turned and looked back circumspectly at her supervisor's door. "Well. I won't distract you anymore. I should let you get back to work," he said, rubbing at the middle of his forehead, his eyes closing.
Fanny paused for a couple of beats, her lips slightly parted and her eyes sweeping appraisingly over his jaw line, before returning to her fastidious piles. Under the circumstances, any real work was impossible. It was true; he was a distraction. She was relieved she'd had the presence of mind to remember to thank him for the basket. "I'm glad you dropped by."
Jack's gaze had now settled on the dessert tin, his eyebrows furrowed enquiringly. "Are those?"
"Yes. Katherine's chocolate fancies, which she very thoughtfully packed up and sent along with my father. Suddenly I'm wildly popular with the customer retention sharks in Analytics, though I suspect it's the squares."
"Bit of both. But they are irresistible," he said, looking up from the tin, revealing his dimple.
"Go on, take the last one, I won't hold it against you. I've had one already. Breakfast and lunch."
"Yes, I can see you have...," he said, tilting his head and scrutinizing her lips closely, "don't mind if I do, for old time's sake. She's deprived me of these for years," he added, helping himself.
She poked her tongue into the corner of her lips and tasted chocolate while he chewed contentedly with a roguish, lop-sided grin. "Had I known you've suffered such neglect, I would have set a few more aside," she said, her eyes sparkling.
"Very considerate. And wise. I'll remember to keep a closer vigil. See what else finds its way from Kingston to you." After raising his eyebrows significantly, he turned and walked out, departing through the grey door.
Her supervisor walked out of his office moments later, looking flummoxed.
"How was your meeting?" Fanny asked.
"Unexpected. And brief," he replied, scratching at his temple. "He didn't seem to have any particular agenda. Strange. But, when you calculate the value of the golf tips exchanged, all told, a very constructive discussion."
"Thank you for softening him up for me. Not sure what you did, but I owe you."
"Anymore of those chocolate dainties left over?"
"He ate the last one. It seemed polite to offer."
"Humph."
***
Despite her best efforts, Fanny found herself running late for the Alumni Reunion. In the time she had allotted to eat on the fly she was sidelined by Mavis, who cornered her outside her door to remind her about the next book club meeting and gripe about Harold who was still down in the dumps. Fortunately Fanny had her wits about her and remembered the catnip from the gift basket which she retrieved and pressed into Mavis's hand, along with a helpful website she'd discovered in the course of some research she'd done, and her best wishes for his speedy recovery. Then there was the urgent matter of a scarf; one that would project cool sophistication and render people speechless. Predictably it was nowhere to be found in her collection, so she settled on the Butterflies of Ontario scarf, in keeping with her guise as social butterfly and girl-about-town; it would be her good luck talisman.
She considered taking the subway but ended up hailing the first cab she saw and taking it to her destination, the Royal York, the majestic old railway hotel on Front Street. The reunion was being held in the ballroom, a beautifully appointed room replete with frescoed ceilings, opulent crystal chandeliers, and stunning draperies, bustling with impeccably turned out waiters and boisterous party-goers. It was precisely the sort of place that gave her pause, tempting her to retrace her steps and stake out the nearest broom closet.
Instead she stood defiantly, clutching her first drink and fiddling with her scarf, taking turns scanning for trays of edibles and covertly observing Tish, who was, to her dismay, the first and only person she recognized. Tish was standing not thirty feet away, jabbering away excitedly, all hand motions and playful touching with a man whose back was, gallingly, turned to her, making it impossible for her to make out who he might be, but a man, intriguingly, who was clearly not Jack.
"Fanny, you're here. Excellent," Helena said breathlessly, approaching from the rear and pausing in mid-trot. "Where have I seen that?" she asked, examining Fanny's scarf, "that's right, I gave my grandmother the very same one from the museum shop. Come with me, I've got some people you'll want to see," she urged, leading the way expertly through the crowd as Fanny trailed behind her.
Before long she felt herself being thrust into the centre of a small group of men, none of whom seemed familiar at all and whose names, she promptly forgot. Her recall had always been woolly at best, but when names neither caught her attention by sheer originality nor struck her as memorable, she inevitably drew a blank; she would have to gamble on the odds there was a Michael in the mix. This was what she assured herself as she mentally assigned them numbers to keep them straight, with the hope that something said might kick-start her memory.
"So you were at Queen's? Really. I don't have the foggiest recollection...," M1 said.
"Fanny lived down the hall from me in residence," Helena explained. "She was our go-to girl when we were beside ourselves, frantic for a chocolate fix. She worked the Saturday shift at Laura Secord. Dream job."
"Obviously she was taking a hands-on approach," M2 said, cocking his head and smirking. "Intervening to stop all that damaged inventory from clogging up a landfill. Noble work."
"She was like the dealer who didn't charge. Some of the girls blamed her for their freshman fifteen," Helena said. "It's more fun adding the pounds than subtracting them," she added, peevishly.
"Hmmm... retribution. All the makings of a class-action lawsuit,"
M1 observed.
"Let's get to the point. Now, are you still involved in...chocolate, Fanny?" M3 inquired.
"I can't believe you just asked that, ya oaf!" M2 said, feigning outrage that something vaguely smutty and suggestive had been implied.
"I'll have you know Fanny here works for the reunion's corporate sponsor," Helena said, indignantly. “She's in Human Resources at Barrington Global."
"John Fitzwilliam," M4 intoned, slowly and all-knowingly.
"Have another drink, Fanny. You look positively parched," M2 said, plucking two wines from a passing tray and handing her one. "Only messin' with you about the chocolate. I might have to hit you up for a favour one day. Put in a good word, as they say," he added.
"Fitzwilliam, eh? Did he go to Queen's?" M3 asked.
"No, he did not," Helena replied, briskly. "But his aunt did, and she's a huge supporter. And he's provided all the wine tonight," she added pointedly.
"And well he should, then. I'll drink to that," M3 said, raising his glass.
"Here, here. To free booze. Oh, and to Queen's... and country!" M2 seconded, sloppily.
"I heard he went to that dodgy school. Harvard, I think," M4 said.
"Hey, isn't that George Raskell over there with that blonde?" M1 asked, squinting to see, as Fanny jerked her head around in sudden interest.
"Yes, yes it is him," M2 said, nodding his head vigorously. "Good old George."
"Same old George. Is that the girl he went around with at school?" M3 asked.
"I dunno, aren't they all interchangeable?" M2 replied.
"That's the trouble with these reunions; they're a reminder of my own inadequacies," M4 said, with a long, low sigh.
"Now Fanny, you were saying-" M1 said.
"Impossible to get a word in edgewise," Helena grumbled. "Now if I could just draw your attention over here, I'll need a hand with these signs. We have to do our end by advertising the winery."
"I wonder if Fitzwilliam drinks the stuff himself," M3 mused, ignoring her.
