On The Dotted Line

by Kim Carmichael

  Then she met Elizabeth.

  When the woman in the black cocktail dress and precision cut shoulder length blonde hair first entered her store, Elizabeth announced how she was shocked that Randolph even liked the store. Peter’s girlfriend also imparted her opinion on Willow’s chiffon dress and velvet coat. By the time Willow got in the car with them, Elizabeth also announced her stance on Peter’s hair, his car, and decided to tell her that Randolph would rather that she carry an evening bag.

  Willow hugged her non evening bag to her chest and caught up to them.

  They made their way around to the front of the restaurant. Peter opened the door and the three of them were blasted with noise, which might as well have been an alarm bell.

  She went toward the bright white light and stepped inside to the crowd surrounding a bar and a dance floor.

  Peter guided them through the people to the podium where a woman wearing a short skirt and an attitude stared at them.

  “Reservation for six for Van Ayers.” Peter glanced around the restaurant. “Maybe there’s something in the back a little quieter? We have a business meeting.”

  Elizabeth crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Randolph hates crowds.”

  No matter how or why she and Randolph got married, the man was still her husband and she was getting a bit fatigued with Elizabeth’s continued spouting off about her knowledge of Randolph. She squeezed the bridge of her nose. Truth was, Elizabeth knew more about her husband than she did. Maybe Randolph should have married the other woman. At least he would have gotten a wife who knew him, Peter would have his freedom, and she could go to Sedona and no one would care about her bag evening or not, or where she ate.

  “We have no Van Ayers reservation.” The woman leaned one elbow on the podium.

  Elizabeth let out a laugh and leaned over to Peter. “Tell them you’re a Ward, unless your mother asked you not to use your name again.”

  Willow turned from the negative force, stared at the entrance in search of Randolph and tapped Peter. “It would be under Day.”

  “Well, that answers my earlier question.” Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Why wouldn’t you use the last name that means something?”

  “This is the second time tonight I answered that question.” The lady gathered up some menus and pointed over to the bar where an older skeletal woman wearing a grey dress and a scowl sat next to a rounder man with the same expression.

  “Peter?” Willow barely whispered his name, wishing somehow Randolph would appear.

  “There are the Hartfords. Where is Randolph?” Peter straightened up and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  “Someone better walk over there, Randolph won’t like it if he knows they were kept waiting.” Elizabeth’s voice scratched up her spine.

  Honestly, there was no kidney in the cooler awaiting a transplant. They only had a little mix up with names and restaurants. “I’ll smooth things over.” Nan always said most misunderstandings could be solved with an apology and a smile. In her case, she also added a shot of vodka. Randolph’s life of worry over restaurants didn’t fit her.

  Since neither Peter nor Elizabeth protested, she forced a wide smile across her lips and made her way toward the unhappy couple.

  The woman narrowed her eyes as she approached.

  Once more she peeked over at the door, praying for Randolph’s appearance. “Mr. and Mrs. Hartford?” She raised her voice and practically curtseyed.

  “I am Ms. Hartford, this is my brother, Mr. Hartford.” Ms. Hartford pursed her lips, the wrinkles around her mouth digging into her face even deeper.

  Awkward. Willow swallowed. Her need for a shot of vodka quickly increased to a glass of vodka. “I am Willow Day–” She cleared her throat at the mistake. “I mean, I am Willow Day Van Ayers. I apologize for the mix up with the reservations, but I believe our table is ready and we can go have some appetizers.”

  “Well, congratulations are in order.” The man gave her a hearty handshake.

  Already his good vibes reverberated through her. Maybe everything would be all right. She exhaled.

  “You are Randolph’s wife?” In harsh, precision movements, Ms. Hartford flipped her small evening bag open, took out a pair of glasses, shoved them on her face and stared at her. “You are Randolph’s wife?”

  Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. In less than a second the woman summarized her and Randolph’s relationship. After a week spent practically prancing after her husband like a lovesick teenager, she needed to redirect her energy, focus on her life, her reality and her job.

  “Are you or are you not Randolph’s wife?” Ms. Hartford stood. “Or is this whole thing some sort of a joke?”

  “Yes, this is my wife.” Like a superhero, Randolph materialized by her side, complete with a long coat swirling around him.

  Funny, she wanted to answer she was indeed the joke.

  He shook Mr. Hartford’s hand and then took Ms. Hartford’s hand between both of his. “I apologize for my tardiness, but I was detained at the office.”

  “I thought we were an important client of yours.” Ms. Hartford jutted her jaw out.

  “You know that is a fact.” He produced one of his magazine worthy smiles.

  “Mr. Van Ayers, how can I believe that when you take us to a place more suitable for a drunken brawl than a business meeting and then turn up late?” She snatched her hand away.

  Willow glanced down at the floor, willing it to open and swallow her up. While she might not care where or what these people ate, it was part of her agreement, and it was never her intention to cause an issue.

  “Then you present us with your so-called wife who doesn’t know her last name.” The woman pursed her lips, a fitting expression for her sour disposition. “Dare I add we weren’t given a proper wedding announcement or invitation?”

  No matter how nasty these people were, she would never forgive herself if she ruined the client relationship for Randolph. Truth be told, he would have the Hartfords longer than he had her.

  “Millicent, please.” Randolph bowed his head. “Willow and I eloped very quickly. Do you honestly think I would exclude you out of any major event like that? My mother is throwing a huge party to celebrate between Thanksgiving and Christmas and invitations are being hand delivered this week. You are at the top of the list.”

  The woman continued to glare at him. From behind her, the brother shook his head.

  “As far as the restaurant goes, surely you can understand a little mix up? My wife is new at this.” Randolph tilted his head and one curl bounced over his eyebrow. “I am more than happy to call any other restaurant myself and get us in. Simply say the word.”

  Willow held her breath. She went to grab Randolph’s hand but stopped.

  “This is fine,” Mr. Hartford mumbled.

  “I am starving.” Millicent shook her head. “I suppose we can make a concession.”

  “Let’s go sit down, then.” Randolph corralled them to the front.

  Willow allowed herself the luxury of inhaling.

  “Our table is ready.” Peter pointed to the back.

  “Good to see you, Dolph.” Elizabeth gave him a huge smile. “I’m surprised we’re staying here. I told your wife you wouldn’t care for this place. I remember when we used to meet up at the club and you hated it when your parents made you eat at the snack shack rather than in the restaurant.”

  Next, maybe Elizabeth would visit the bar and ask for the margarita salt to pour on the wound. The over-sized crystals might dig in a little deeper.

  “Who are these people?” Ms. Hartford spun on her heel and faced Randolph.

  “What are they doing here?” Randolph growled under his breath, while jerking his chin toward Peter and Elizabeth. The cords on his neck stood out and he swallowed. “This is my personal assistant, Peter Ward, and his girlfriend Elizabeth Glick.”

  Ms. Hartford shook her head. “Unusual when we are going to discuss sensitive business matters.”

 
“Maybe we should go.” Peter took a step back.

  “No!” She raised her voice well above the noise in the restaurant. “I invited you.”

  “Now she remembers etiquette.” Ms. Hartford turned away.

  Without another word, Randolph motioned for everyone to follow the girl to the table.

  Another mistake. At last her heart gave up and simply fell, landing in her empty sick stomach. Willow hung back with her husband. An apology didn’t seem appropriate, but she needed to say something. “Randolph.”

  “Let’s just get through this.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

  She managed to get to the table and took the seat between Randolph and Elizabeth.

  At least once everyone took their spot, the mood lightened with small talk. Randolph even ordered for her, and she sat back and sipped her wine, even though she longed to chug from a bottle of vodka. At least Randolph could take over and the disaster seemed diverted. Maybe she didn’t need hard liquor after all.

  Randolph and the Hartfords discussion morphed into business, and she resolved to remain quiet and allow the evening to play out. They made it through appetizers and salad and at last the main course was served. Her husband ordered her an amazing fish dish and she took a bite allowing the rich cream sauce to coat her palate.

  “I suppose once you get married it’s fine to eat all the things you wouldn’t allow yourself when dating.” Elizabeth leaned over and let out a laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I had anything as decadent as that.”

  “I would rather eat a little of what I want than a lot of what I don’t want.” She took another bite. “More isn’t always better.”

  “Of course more is sometimes nice as well.” Mr. Hartford lifted his fork and took another bite of his food.

  Peter chuckled.

  “So, you never said how you and Randolph met.” Elizabeth put her fork down.

  “Yes, how did you meet?” Ms. Hartford stared down her long thin nose at her. “What led to your sudden elopement?”

  For weeks her husband kept up the ruse in front of their friends and unwilling to make one more error, she put her hand on Randolph’s shoulder. “I’ll let Randolph tell you.”

  Randolph took his time wiping his mouth. “Willow owns a little shop.”

  “What kind of shop do you own?” The scowl took over Ms. Hartford’s face again.

  “Isn’t it like a voodoo shop?” Elizabeth leaned back in her chair as if trying to get Randolph’s attention.

  “Voodoo?” Again, Ms. Hartford pursed those lips.

  Mr. Hartford sat up and grinned.

  “It’s actually a little metaphysical and holistic shop.” She spat out the correct answer.

  “What exactly does that mean?” Ms. Hartford asked.

  “You know, hocus pocus stuff.” Elizabeth wiggled her fingers. “She even gave Peter a tarot card reading and now he’s all freaked out.”

  “Was she accurate?” Mr. Hartford asked.

  Ms. Hartford only blinked.

  “You know that artist who goes around painting random murals?” Elizabeth leaned over the table. “He or she painted one on Willow’s building and now Peter thinks it’s a divine sign.”

  Like a freight train trying to outrun a boulder speeding down hill, there was nothing Willow could do to stop the crash that was Elizabeth. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Randolph. His pale complexion said everything.

  “Divine sign?” The woman shook her head.

  Elizabeth laughed. “I’m as shocked as you. Randolph doesn’t seem the type to fall for that kind of stuff, especially after that two-bit elementary school art drawing attention to it.”

  Call it the pressure, the heat of the moment, instinct to protect her temporary mate, or whatever, she finally snapped. “How much do you actually know about Randolph? I sleep with the man every night and never once has he mentioned your name. No wonder Peter is looking for a divine sign. He’s probably looking for a way to exorcise you from his life.”

  “Willow.” Randolph muttered her name under his breath.

  “Seems as if your wife needs to learn a little more than simply the right restaurant and her last name.” Ms. Hartford reached for her wine glass.

  “I pray to any deity out there that this evening is the worst thing that ever happens to you, but from the sound of some of your financial affairs my husband is working on, I am wrong again.” She resisted the need to stand and stomp away.

  The table took on an eerie, all-encompassing silence.

  Elizabeth lifted one side of her mouth in a sneer. “Willow.”

  “It’s time for us to go.” Peter stood and put his hand out to Elizabeth. “Thank you for dinner.”

  Elizabeth followed Peter, leaving the four of them alone and everyone staring at Willow, the outcast. She stood, causing Randolph and Mr. Hartford to stand as well. “If you don’t mind excusing me, I need a little air, and I know you have business to discuss.”

  “Willow.” Randolph widened his eyes.

  “Please take your time. I just want to take a little walk.” Uncertain what to do in such a situation, she bowed, took her bag and her jacket and forced her head up as she walked outside. Throughout her life she had seen real problems, people without homes, money, food but these people acted as if the wrong vintage wine would be the death of them.

  Fresh air did nothing to cleanse her. Every error she made replayed in her mind, down to the horrified expression on Randolph’s face at her outburst. Maybe she should have taken more than five minutes planning this nightmare. What seemed like a simple dinner was obviously much more.

  She turned back toward the restaurant. Something about being human made everyone want to fit in, and for the millionth time the flares went off. She would never be one of them, couldn’t even fake it enough to make it, even for the year she had to live Randolph’s life. For the life of her, she couldn’t go back in there and pretend it mattered. Instead she decided to take a walk around the block and use the fresh air to cleanse her energy.

  * * * *

  Randolph stared at his secretary. Mrs. Avery had been with the bank since he was a child. She used to work for his father, but in a life made up of contracts, deals and negotiations, Randolph won Mrs. Avery when he finished graduate school, a semester early. Good old Mrs. Avery left her desk in front of his father’s office and took her post outside of his on the day Randolph claimed his office.

  Over the years Mrs. Avery had been invaluable, doing everything from tending to his social calendar to making sure he had the right paperclips. Hell, if Mrs. Avery wasn’t married to Mr. Avery and a decade or three too old for him, he would have asked her to go on his one year marriage extravaganza with him. Yes, the sex would have been non-existent, and she wasn’t a gorgeous blonde, but in the end she was a better match for him.

  He put his elbow on his desk and his head in his hand and gazed at the woman who was going to play human mop.

  She shook her head, reached in her pocket and handed him a mint.

  Though he didn’t really want it, he took the candy anyway and popped it in his mouth. Lately, he couldn’t help himself from being fed things he didn’t want from old ladies.

  “Yes, thank you, I will get Mr. Van Ayers on the phone.” With the expertise only Mrs. Avery possessed, she pressed the buttons on the phone, transferred the call to his desk and stood.

  Randolph put his hand on the phone. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to my desk.” She wagged her finger at him.

  “I need you.” He swallowed practically choking on the mint, though if he did, Mrs. Avery would save him.

  “What you need, I can’t give you.” With a shake of her head, she walked out. “Your wife will be here soon, ask her.”

  “Traitor.” He didn’t remember when Mrs. Avery met Nan, but they needed to stop taking lessons from each other. Rather than wallowing, he lifted the receiver. “Millicent?”

  “Randolph, are you coming to me with your tail
between your legs?” The battle axe snickered.

  “A Van Ayers only whips his tail to cut through the air.” He spent the last twenty-four hours making sure he was phone call worthy and the woman would be squealing for him by the time he was done.

  “Well, you said the word whipped, not me.”

  He pounded his fist into the desk. “I called to get your approval to transfer some money between your investment accounts.”

  “Don’t tell me I’m overdrawn.”

  He leaned back in his chair and chuckled. The family had enough money in their bank to power a small country a couple of times over. “Not quite. I just managed to secure an investment that will net double the yield of the last project, and I thought we may want to add a little more. The funds will remain fluid.”

  “Is this supposed to make me forget about that travesty you called a dinner?”

  “No. It’s called doing my job. What is supposed to make you forget the dinner are the men entering your office right about now with a gourmet lunch, carrying the invitation to my wedding celebration on a silver platter.” The ruckus in the background told him everything arrived on time. He stared up at the ceiling and waited.

  A little breathless, she returned to the phone. “Randolph.”

  “Yes, Millicent?”

  “I am sending in my RSVP now, but I want you to remember something.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Remember who your client is,” she snapped. “Now transfer that money.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will talk to you soon.” He hung up the phone and crunched down on his mint. The Hartford Corporation account was saved, but his wife was another story.

  As if on cue, a light rapping at the door indicated the arrival of the next situation he needed to handle today. “Come in.”

  Mrs. Avery opened the door. “Mrs. Van Ayers is here.”

  He motioned for her to bring it on.

  With her huge bag in tow, Willow entered. If she were anyone else he would have sworn she hired people to follow her around with a wind machine to give her that perfect ethereal presence with the way the skirt of her sky blue dress billowed and her hair wafted around her.

  Since their unsuccessful meal of the previous night, they hadn’t really spoken to one another. He hated the way his heart sped at having to confront her. He confronted confrontation. “Good afternoon.”