Balancing Act

by Fern Michaels

Wonderful, short, intimate phone calls from Griff in the middle of the day were something she treasured. Her penchant for sending Snoopy cards delighted Griff. He was pleased that Dory would take time out of her busy schedule to shop for just the right card and mail it at just the right moment. Both had laughed in embarrassment when they admitted that not only had they been thumb suckers but blanket holders as well when they were toddlers. Snoopy and his pals were a joy to read about in the Sunday comics over a long, lazy breakfast in bed.

  The mutual concern they shared was Dory’s most prized possession, if emotion could be considered a possession. She adored the tall, loose individual she called Griff. She was never sure how that adoration had turned into love, but one day she woke and looked at the man sleeping beside her and realized she loved him with all her heart. “For all my life,” she had whispered softly, so as not to wake him.

  Griff proposed after three months. She refused. She wasn’t ready to commit herself to something as awesome as marriage. It would have to wait for a while. Griff said he understood, and smiled when she said she didn’t want to move in with him or vice versa, not yet. She needed her own space, and so did he, didn’t he? Again, he said he understood.

  Her friends told her she was a fool. Here he was, handsome as sin itself, a successful veterinarian with his own practice, money, no strings attaching him to someone else, great potential. But what did they know, with their on-again, off-again romances that left them teary-eyed and neurotic? Thanks, but no thanks. Time was on her side, or so she thought. Griff had been honest with her from the beginning, telling her that he would be giving up his New York practice to open a clinic in the Washington, D.C.–Virginia area with two partners. As soon as the clinic was ready, and he estimated the work would be finished within four months, he would be leaving. His practice was sold and he was staying on only until the new vet got the hang of things. He had been up front all the way.

  “Here you are, miss,” the driver said, leaning over the seat. Dory gave him a second dazzling smile that made him grin. “You have a nice day now, you hear,” he said in a fatherly tone. Damn, he wished he was thirty years younger. He also wished he had more fares like her. Made your day when a pretty woman smiled. And this one didn’t just smile, she beamed. A meaty lady in slacks two sizes too small huffed and puffed her way into his cab. He shrugged. You win some and you lose some. “Where to, lady?”

  Soft early-morning sunshine washed across Dory’s desk. The stark white paper stood out against the buff-colored blotter. Her request asking for a leave of absence. She still had an hour before her meeting with Lizzie Adams, the managing editor of Soiree. Was she gambling with her future? Was she doing the right thing? Or was following Griff to Washington the wrong thing? That was a negative question and negative thoughts had no place in her life. She hadn’t gotten where she was by entertaining negative thoughts. The word “no” was one word she simply refused to recognize. She was a positive person all the way.

  Dory stood up and met her reflection in the smoky-mirrored wall. She was attractive by some standards, beautiful by others. Chic, elegant, fashionable were compliments paid to her by the staff. But it was those people closest to Dory who realized that her beauty came from within. Serenity, confidence, success were the traits that made Dory Faraday beautiful.

  She straightened the soft silk at the neckline of the Nipon dress. Any designer would have gladly dressed Dory just for the pleasure of seeing his creations shown off to perfection. Bruno Magli would have been pleased to see his soft kid shoes worn on such pretty feet. There was no need for jewelry at the long, slender throat, nor elaborate makeup and a styled hairdo. Dory was naturally lovely. In the world of slick sophistication and cosmetic beauty, Dory Faraday was one of a kind.

  The hazy gray mirror lost the reflection as Dory turned to scan her surroundings. She was going to miss this peaceful, charming office where she spent so much of her time. Decorated in earth tones with splashes of vibrant color, it lent itself to the serenity that was Dory’s trademark at Soiree. Emerald ferns graced the corners of the office, wicker baskets and tubs held flowing greenery. Everything in the room, including Dory, blended like a chord in a symphony.

  In the space of fifteen minutes Dory took three phone calls, penciled corrections on a lipstick layout, and nixed a model’s see-through blouse. She sat back, her hands folded on the desk while the model ranted and raved about the desirability of the tasteless blouse. “The blouse goes,” Dory said crisply, “and so do you if you don’t wear the one your ad man sent along with your folio. Take it or leave it.”

  “Okay, okay,” the model snapped as she grabbed the offending article from Dory’s desk. “You aren’t the last word, Miss Faraday,” she shot over her shoulder as she made her way to the door.

  “I am if you ever want to do another ad for this magazine.” There was no mistaking the ring of steel in Dory’s voice. The model hesitated a second and then raced from the office. Dory sighed.

  “I heard all that,” Katy Simmons laughed as she sailed into Dory’s office. Katy was Dory’s right hand—keeper of the files, confidante, mother hen, provider of low-calorie brownies. She had been with Soiree from Day One and was fond of saying that Dory was the only person she could get along with because Dory knew what she was doing and didn’t let people walk all over her. “How’s it going today? Never mind, you look like someone gave you the moon and the stars for a present. I hate people like you,” she grumbled good-naturedly. “Just tell me how the hell you manage to look so gorgeous at eight thirty in the morning with no makeup. It takes me hours and hours and then I always look like I slept in a park and got dragged by a stray dog.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself, Katy. And I’m not so dumb that I don’t know you’re fishing for a compliment. Yes, you have gorgeous eyes and, yes, you have a wealth of hair that I would kill for. Now, does that make you feel better?”

  “Sort of.” Katy sniffed. “Want your schedule?”

  “Why not. I just pretend to work around here.”

  “First, you have a meeting with Lizzie. I allowed forty-five minutes for that. She wanted an hour but I said no way. You’re having lunch with two digital-advertising execs and are they something. Hunks, both of them. Look sharp. You have a two-hour meeting after lunch so don’t be late. A layout presentation after the meeting. Somebody from Dior is having a bash, and it would be a good idea if you made an appearance. It was Lizzie’s idea—she can’t go. She’s all booked up with out-of-town clients who are demanding more space but don’t want to pay for it. Some new models are downstairs, modeling jeans. They want you to take a look-see and give them your opinion. I told them you wouldn’t be caught dead in jeans but they wouldn’t listen. I picked up the two new profiles for the spring issue and they need your pencil and approval. Whenever is okay. Today, if you can. And, if you have any extra time this evening, I have tickets for the theater that some turkey sent here for you. He said he’d meet you in the lobby at curtain time. I guess that’s about it. Now, what do you want me to do today? I have this headache and one of my corns is killing me, so take that into consideration when you unload on me.”

  “Cancel the turkey with the tickets. I’m already going to the theater tonight. Go back to the lounge and take a catnap. I can handle things here. Send Susy in and she can send some e-mail I didn’t get done yesterday. That’s an order, Katy.”

  “Yes, Ms. Faraday,” Katy drawled as she left the office.

  The door opened and a breathless young girl breezed through as though blown on the wind. “Gee, Miss Faraday, do I really get to help you today? Katy said she was too busy. I love that dress and those shoes are out of this world. You’re just gorgeous, you really are. Everyone says so. They all talk about you out in the front office.”

  Dory smiled when the girl finished. “Do you know you said that all in one breath? Amazing. Thanks for the compliments, and you can thank the girls in the office for me too. This is what I want you to do.” Quickly she o
utlined the work, ending with instructions to water the plants and make coffee. “I have a meeting with Lizzie and I know she could use some about now. Refer all my calls to her office. Why don’t you work here at my desk while I’m gone.”

  There was reverence in Susy’s eyes. Wait till the girls outside heard she was not only working at Dory Faraday’s desk but also watering her plants and making coffee. She’d be the talk of the office for a week. Someday she was going to be just like Dory Faraday. She could feel it in her bones.

  The plaque on the door read LIZZIE ADAMS, MANAGING EDITOR. Dory rapped softly and opened the door. She held the stiff paper in her right hand at her side.

  “Dory, come in. Coffee?” She looked around vaguely as though expecting it to materialize out of nowhere.

  “I told one of the girls to bring some up. It should be ready soon. I’ve got a full schedule today, Lizzie, so I’ll get right to the point. I would appreciate it if you would give me a leave of absence.” She laid her written request on the dark green blotter and waited for Lizzie to say something.

  Lizzie was a chunk of a woman. From the neck down she was all one size. Pudgy, she called herself. But people never seemed to notice her size; they kept looking at her face. She had eyes the color of warm chocolate and the thickest eyelashes Dory had ever seen. A flawless complexion and perfect white teeth. Hair that was clipped short and blown back from her face. She looked sixteen while, in fact, she was thirty-six.

  “Why?” It was a question, a demand, a don’t-give-me-any-crap answer.

  Dory swallowed hard. “I want to work on my doctorate.”

  “Just like that. No warning, no nothing. You just walk in here and ask for time off. I asked you why? How much time?”

  Dory stared at Lizzie, not understanding her attitude. They had always gotten along. Why was she being so dogmatic about this? Dory’s stomach churned. Lizzie would understand about the doctorate but she would never understand Dory wanting to follow Griff to Washington. No one at Soiree would understand something like that. The doctorate really was her main reason for the leave of absence. The timing was perfect; she could live with Griff.

  “I told you, Lizzie, to pursue my education until I complete it. That’s the best answer I can give you. If you can’t hold my job, I’ll understand.”

  Lizzie leaned across the desk. “Does this have anything to do with Griff? Level with me, Dory.”

  “I’m going to move in with him. I’ll be studying at Georgetown, so it will work out all around.”

  “You think so, do you? If you thought that, why aren’t you getting married?”

  “I’m not ready for that kind of commitment yet, Lizzie, This is what’s best for me right now. For me, Lizzie. No one else.”

  “What if I told you I was leaving here in six months and planned on having you step into my job? What would you say to that?”

  “I’d be stunned,” Dory said truthfully, her green eyes widening in surprise.

  “Then look stunned. You know, open mouth, insert foot, raise your eyebrows and all that.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Damn right I’m serious. Who did you think I would pick?”

  “I never thought about it. I didn’t know you were leaving.”

  “Jack and I finally got the adoption agency’s approval. They said they would have a baby for us in six months. I can’t work and raise a baby too, so that puts my job up for grabs. You’re the logical person to take over. Now you floor me with this. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Six months, that’s all I can give you. I’d like five with a firm commitment but I’ll settle for the six.”

  “Lizzie, this will be my last chance to go for my doctorate. If your offer holds and I take the job, I could bring new focus to the position. You know I never do anything halfway. Do you want an answer now?”

  “I think you’re capable of giving me an answer now. That’s why I hired you in the first place. I’ve never regretted that choice, Dory, not once. You’ve proved yourself time and again. You’re like me. You can make a decision and live with it. I have to know and I have to know now so I can start scouting for a replacement. Six months. You can finish that degree at Columbia, can’t you? And, just so you don’t get too wrapped up in this live-in relationship, I think you should consider doing some freelance work in the meantime. Take a look at this. It came down from on high today.”

  Dory scanned the printed words and then laughed. “You’re one shrewd fox, Lizzie. That’s called covering your tail, in this business.”

  “Look, Dory, I think I’ve known all along that you were planning this move. You’re right. This might have come down from on high, but it was my idea. Who better than you to do a few profiles on eligible, handsome senators and congressmen? Pay’s good too. Top dollar. A person could live a full year on what you’d make, say on just four of them. Quality, of course. Standout casual pics, that sort of thing. Say you’ll take it so I can let my ulcer rest.”

  “Okay, but it means I’ll have to work like hell.”

  “Dory, when do you plan to leave?”

  “I’d like two weeks, but if you need three, I can handle that. That should be more than enough time to break in Rachel Binder and Katy will be there to take up any slack. You do agree with Rachel as the logical choice, don’t you?”

  “No question about it. Two weeks it is. Will that give you time to sublet and handle all the mundane details of moving?”

  “I can manage. Weekends I’ll be going to D.C. to help Griff and find some place to live. Lizzie, I’m grateful, I truly am. I was hoping you’d be fair, but generous and fair is something I didn’t count on.”

  “Listen, I’m being selfish too. I might want to come back here someday and I don’t want to burn any bridges. You’re good, Dory, and there will be no qualms around here. I’ll feel right turning it over to you if that’s your choice. I want you to promise me something. I want you to call me in three months and tell me how it looks from where you’re standing. You owe me that.”

  “That’s fine with me. I’m afraid I’ve been lax in not congratulating you on the adoption. I know how long you’ve waited for this. Jack must be delighted.”

  Lizzie laughed as she toyed with a pencil. “He’s got the room painted and decorated. He bought a rocking chair and is sanding it down. Supposedly, it’s some kind of antique and hundreds of years old. Can you just see me in a house with antiques?”

  Dory laughed as she looked around the starkly modern office. Chrome and glass were everywhere. “Give it time, you might learn to like it. I’m going to miss this place. You’ve all been good to me. It’s hard to say good-bye.”

  “It is just temporary, isn’t it, Dory?” Lizzie asked in a pinched tone.

  “I don’t know. I’ll call you in three months and that’s a promise.”

  “Here’s our coffee. Put it here on the desk, Susy.”

  Lizzie poured, then blew softly into her cup, watching Dory over the rim, her eyes full of unasked questions. “Damn it, I want to know more, Dory. Call it curiosity, concern or just plain nosiness. Somehow I didn’t think you were the type for a live-in relationship. I’m not saying it’s wrong. For me, sitting where I am, it just doesn’t compute. And going back to school. That’s a mind-bender, right there. Do you have any idea of what size chunk you’re biting off? You’re leaving the city and your job, you’re going into a live-in relationship, and you’re going back to graduate school. It’s a goddamn mind-bender is what it is. I always knew you had guts and if anyone can do it, you can. I just hope that you’ve looked at all sides of it. I don’t want you to have regrets later. Consider me a sister now and not your managing editor.”

  Dory leaned over the desk, her face earnest and sincere. “I have thought about it. I have to admit I had some doubts. I still have a few but I have to take a shot at it. I love Griff. That’s my bottom line. As for marriage, maybe I love him too much to marry him right now. I never do things halfway, you know that. And you know how i
mportant my doctorate is to me. I can’t keep putting it off forever. I’ll give it my best shot and go on from there.”

  Lizzie sipped at the hot coffee. “This stuff is mud. My ulcer is going to complain. I like you, Dory, I always have. Everyone here on the staff thinks highly of you. None of us would stand in your way. Hell, what I’m trying to say is if for some reason things don’t work out, don’t wait six months. Saving face is not an American trait.”

  Dory smiled. “I’ll remember that. It’s nice to know the door is open. But I can’t make any promises.”

  “You’re really sure you need that doctorate? How long will it take?”

  Dory flinched. She really didn’t want to talk about going back to school. Not now anyway. “I only have another year to go. When I copped out that last year and came to work here it was the right thing to do at the time. I’d had enough of school and working part-time. I cheated myself, I know that now. I’ve always been sorry I never finished. I’ll handle it.”

  Lizzie looked at her sharply but dropped the subject. “I wish you the best, Dory. I hope things work out the way you want them to. We’ll keep in touch.”

  “Thanks, Lizzie, and my best to you too.”

  Lizzie stared for a long time at the chair where Dory had been sitting. Blunt fingers with squared-off nails tapped at the smooth surface of her desk. The conversation ricocheted around her brain. The blunt fingers tapped faster. Suddenly the fingers stilled and a wide grin split her features. Her money was on Faraday.

  Back in her own office Dory closed the door behind her. For some reason she felt cold and clammy. An interview, a conversation really, with Lizzie shouldn’t be having this effect on her. Lizzie was on her side. What more could she want or expect? She slid into her chair and leaned her head back. Why was she feeling so light-headed? Taking a deep breath, she lowered her head to her knees. Another deep breath. Her mouth was dry, as if she’d eaten too much peanut butter. She didn’t like what was happening to her. Was this some kind of warning? Surely it couldn’t be an anxiety attack. Only people like her mother had anxiety attacks. Why would she have one? Things were going smoothly. Everything was falling into place. She almost had the world by the tail. Her breathing was almost regular now. Paper bags. People used paper bags when they hyperventilated. Was that what was happening to her? Was that the same thing as an anxiety attack? What did you do if you didn’t have a paper bag? Exactly what she was doing. Nothing. A picture of herself carrying a brown grocery bag in her purse made her smile. “Just take the bag out of my purse and put it over my head.” God, what if she had to say that to some stranger? Never! Get it together, Faraday, she told herself firmly. Pick up your head and wipe off your hands. Handle it. Take control. Don’t lose control.