Free Gift With Purchase

by Jackie Pilossoph

“Is Luke your boyfriend, Mommy?”

  “No!” I answered defensively.

  “I like John and Andrew.”

  “I’m glad, sweetie.”

  “Mommy…”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you ever going to get married again?”

  “Hmm,” I said thoughtfully, “I don’t really know. If I do, it won’t be for a long, long time.”

  “Would you ever marry Luke?”

  “Oh honey, I don’t know. He’s a good man, but he’s just a friend for now.” For now, I thought, as I continued driving, my insides aching, thinking about how much I needed and wanted to talk to him.

  Just as I was pulling into the driveway, Izzie asked, “Hey, Mommy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is it okay if I talk about Daddy?”

  I put the car in park and turned around to look at her in the back seat. “Of course it is! Why are you asking me that?”

  Izzie burst into tears.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as I shut the ignition off and got into the back seat with her.

  Through tears, she said, “I’m afraid we’re going to forget about him.”

  I hugged Izzie so tight to the point I hoped I wasn’t hurting her. “Listen to me. Your dad is your dad. No one will ever take his place, do you understand that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He loved you and we can talk about him every day if you want. In fact, I love talking about him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Izzie.” I realized right then that I wasn’t lying to my daughter. I did enjoy talking about Sam, because I knew Isabelle needed that.

  I put her to bed shortly after we got home, and lying there in her cute, little nightgown, she asked for a bedtime story.

  “I have the perfect one,” I began, “Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl. Their names were Emma and Sam…” And then I told Izzie the story of how her father and I met in the stands of a Bears game. “It was a freezing cold night and the Bears were playing the Steelers…”

  This would become one of many stories I would tell Izzie about her father and me. She never got tired of hearing them, and I never got tired of telling her things about the father she’d never come to know on her own. It was tragic, but beautiful.

  When Izzie was asleep, I went to call Luke, but something stopped me. I decided I had another call to make first.

  “Hello?” Denny answered.

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  “How are you?” he asked curtly.

  “I’m okay.” I took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry about last night.”

  “It’s alright. Are you feeling better?”

  “The thing is…I really like you…”

  “But…” he said. It was obvious Denny was guarded. He also seemed a little hostile, but I couldn’t blame him.

  “But…I don’t think I can see you anymore. I’m so sorry.”

  There was a long period of silence, the kind where everyone’s holding their breath, anticipating what’s going to happen next and who is going to be the first to say something. I’ve always been told that the first one who speaks loses.

  “So, that’s it?” Denny asked, “It’s over?” His voice began to rise. “We just had an amazing few weeks together and now you’re just dumping me?”

  “I’m not dumping you, Denny,” I said, “I just don’t feel right about the relationship anymore. It’s nothing you did. You are wonderful and I really, really enjoy being with you. I just don’t think I can give you what you want.”

  Now Denny softened and even made a little joke out of it, I think in an attempt to lighten things up. “I’m so bummed!”

  I laughed softly. “Me, too. You are an amazing guy.”

  “I really like you, Emma. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. It just doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry!”

  “Well, at least you’re honest. Hey, Emma?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think we have a great thing. Please call me if you change your mind.”

  “Okay, thanks. And thank you for being so understanding and sweet about this. I’m really sorry if I’m hurting you.”

  “Hey,” he said in his cute Irish voice I adored so much, “I had a great time. I don’t regret it at all.”

  “Stay in touch?”

  “You got it.”

  “Bye, Denny.”

  “Bye, Emma.”

  I hung up the phone relieved beyond belief and sad at the same time. I was losing a friend. But I was doing what I had to do.

  The next call I made was to Alice. I wanted to talk to her before my big meeting with Phil Warren, which was taking place the next morning. I needed her to prep me, both emotionally and professionally. There was no one better than Alice to psych me up and tell me what to say.

  We spent an hour on the phone, talking for the first ten minutes about her new girlfriend and my old boyfriend, Den0507.

  “He sounds like such a great guy. You should feel good about that.”

  “I do.”

  When we started talking about Winchester, she was (as always) full of energy, coaching me on what questions to ask, and how to negotiate without offending anyone.

  After saying good-bye to the beautiful woman who never failed to put me on a high far better than any drug, I went to my closet and picked out the suit I would wear to my meeting. I chose a light pink dress with a matching jacket.

  Finally, it was time to call Luke. I went to his name in my address book, but just as I was about to hit the call button, I changed my mind. I was just too drained to talk to Luke right now. I decided to text instead. “Thank you again for dinner. We had a really nice time. Is there any way we could talk tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

  “Sure,” Luke texted back, “Are u okay?”

  “Yes.”

  I wasn’t really okay, though. In the past twenty-four hours, I’d had a bad date with Denny, I’d come extremely close to having hate sex with Preston, I’d eaten a family dinner with Luke, and I’d broken up with Denny, a man I felt extremely guilty for hurting, not to mention that all of this was going on just before what was probably the biggest professional day of my life.

  Oddly enough, I found myself thinking about Sam. My husband was the last man, perhaps the only man in my life that I’d ever really loved. That love had been taken away from me in an instant. But the worst part of it all was that I wasn’t sure I loved him at the time of his death. And because of the guilt I felt by admitting that, I wondered if I had the guts to really love someone again.

  I realized now that I’d enjoyed Preston so much because there was never any threat of love. Although I didn’t admit it to myself at the time, I had known all along in my heart that Preston and I would never say those three words to each other, and that made things safe. And looking back, that factor was as attractive to me as Preston’s rock hard abs.

  I thought about all of the Matts I went out with, and to Denny again. When I threw myself into the dating scene, I was, like anyone else, looking for love. That’s what I thought at the time. Now, in retrospect, not only was I not looking for something serious, I was avoiding it, and was desperately hiding from it, much like my daughter at three years old had hidden from me when it was time to take a bath. In other words, I wanted to find someone to love, and yet I sabotaged myself in the worst way.

  And then of course, there was Luke. From the day I’d met him he was unavailable, still attached to someone else. Even though I didn’t know that at the time, maybe I knew it subconsciously, and maybe it pleased me because it was easier to be in an imaginary relationship than experiencing a real one. It was possible that Luke still being involved with his ex was the root of the attraction.

  It was so clear to me now. I had pretended to want love, but had chosen men who for one reason or another didn’t want a relationship. It let me off the hook. I was running from commitment just as much as Preston was, if not more. Just in a different way. And truthfully, I had mo
re respect for Preston, because at least he admitted it to himself.

  So now, Luke was now ready to start something with me. He was, in essence, calling my bluff. I had never really planned for this. He wasn’t supposed to come around. But it was happening. And it was scarier than The Blair Witch Project. How could I be sure that he was really serious? Just because he sent over a few lollipops did that mean he wanted to be in a relationship with me? And if he did, was I capable of that?

  For now, though, I had to put all my men on the backburner and think about Winchester Foods. That’s what mattered most right now. The last thing I remember before dozing off was deciding if I should wear nude or black pumps.

  .

  Chapter 34

  “Hi, my name is Emma Bloom,” I said to the sixth floor receptionist at Winchester headquarters, “I’m here to see Philip Warren.”

  “Yes, Ms. Bloom,” she answered, “Have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Then I turned around, sat on a nearby sofa, and began leafing through Time magazine, looking up every time I heard someone walk by. I wondered if Preston worked on this floor. What if he happened to walk by? My heart began to pound and I really needed Mr. Warren to hurry up and get me out of the reception area.

  “Ms. Bloom?” I heard. I looked up. Standing there was a nice looking older man who reminded me of Gene Hackman. “I’m Phil Warren,” he said with a smile. We shook hands.

  “Please, call me Emma,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  Phil took me back to his office, which turned out to be a huge corner space with wall-to-wall windows, a big oak desk, and a separate seating area. Two women were seated on the couch, and another guy was in a nearby chair. All of them stood up when Phil and I entered the room. That’s when I knew something huge was going down. All these people were here for me!

  Each one introduced him or herself, every one of them a Vice-President of something. And after shaking hands with all of them, Phil told me to have a seat, and motioned to the chair next to the other guy. Then he sat on the couch, next to the women. A secretary appeared and asked me if I wanted coffee or water or anything to drink.

  “No, thank you,” I said, my voice shaking, “I’m fine.” Right then, I noticed about a dozen jars of my salsa placed on the coffee table in front of me. Phil noticed me noticing.

  “I bought those from a little boutique in the area,” he said.

  “Oh,” I smiled.”

  “You have quite a business,” one of the female executives named Margaret Paulson said.

  “Thank you.”

  Phil and his entourage spent the next several minutes asking me questions about the business, like what motivated me to start it, to what had I contributed its success, what I felt the drawbacks were, what the biggest challenges were, and my favorite, why I named a salsa after Bradley Cooper.

  I answered as professionally as I possibly could, but I was honest, too, and I could tell I was winning them over, just like I could tell when I was about to make a sale.

  “I think I’m ready to get to the point,” said Phil. He looked at all the other V.P.s. “Don’t you think so?” All three of them nodded. I held my breath.

  “Mitch has done a lot of research on the salsa industry,” Phil began, motioning to the guy in the chair, “and we feel there is clearly a market for what we’re calling ‘Gift-packaged Gourmet Salsa.’”

  The other woman, whose name was Claudia Barnes added, “We’ve also done some research on you and your background. We know you have extensive sales and marketing experience.”

  Margaret finished, “And based on what we’ve seen you do with Solo Chicka’s Salsa, we think you would be a very valuable asset to Winchester.”

  Now my jaw was on the ground. “Are you offering me a job?” I asked.

  Phil leaned in and handed me a thick folder. “Have a look at this. We’d like you to join Winchester as a part-time consultant for our Marketing and Consumer promotions department in our Mexican snacks division. We would start you at sixty-five thousand dollars a year.”

  Mitch added, “We would also like to buy your company for two-hundred forty-five thousand.”

  I’m pretty sure I gasped, because they all had huge grins on their faces now. “I…don’t know what to say,” I exclaimed, “I’m so flattered by this. And so grateful!”

  “Well, we’re grateful to you, Emma,” said Phil, “We think we can make a lot of money from what you’ve created. Congratulations on a job well done!”

  We spent the next few minutes going through my offer in more detail, and then Phil told me to take a few days and think about it. Before leaving, I shook everyone’s hands. Claudia Barnes walked me out, and when we reached the elevators she turned to me and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Emma. I hope you’ll join us here at Winchester.”

  “Thank you again, Claudia.”

  We shook hands. I pressed the elevator button and watched Claudia walk away. When she was a few feet away, she turned around and said with a huge grin, “By the way, I love Bradley Cooper, too!”

  I got in the car and literally screamed. While driving home, I called Laura and left a message, saying that I needed to talk to her. I then did the same with my mother, my father and Alice. Where was everyone?!

  There was one other person who I was dying to call. I wanted to share my news with him. I knew he would be so happy for me, and I knew he’d be proud of me, too. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though, because I was scared. The next conversation he and I were going to have was going to involve the Tootsie Pops and our future. And I was terrified of that. Everything was going so well. I was on top of the world. I had a new job, a new career, new money. Did I really need to risk my happiness by getting into another relationship?

  That night, I ended up having a dinner party. With a little help from Casa de Michael, or I should say, all the help from Casa de Michael, I fed my mom, my dad, Laura, myself and Izzie. I also invited Alice. Everyone seemed quite enamored with my beautiful, smart friend, and Laura monopolized her time for most of the evening.

  When I announced the sale of my business and my job offer, my mother let out a huge scream. My dad told me he was proud of me, Laura hugged me so tight it actually hurt, and Alice simply smiled and gave me a wink, as if to say she knew all along that things would turn out this way.

  Isabelle then did something I will never forget. She walked up to me and in a very businesslike way, she shook my hand. “Emma, I’m very proud of you,” she said.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you, Isabelle.”

  “Mom, you rock!” Then she hugged me tight.

  At the end of the night, when Izzie was in bed and my parents had left, I said good-bye to Alice.

  “How did I get so lucky to cross paths with you?” I asked her.

  “I think your sister likes me,” Alice joked. Then she handed me an envelope. “Open this later.”

  I gave her a hug. “Thank you.”

  Alice blew me a kiss and left.

  When I walked into the kitchen, I found Laura at the sink doing some dishes.

  “I thought you went to bed,” I said.

  She exclaimed, “I loved Alice.”

  “Isn’t she the best?”

  Laura smiled. “Yes, she is.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied unconvincingly.

  We sat down at the kitchen table. “What is it?”

  “Well, the thing is…”

  “What? Please tell me.”

  Laura’s eyes filled with tears. “Alan and I reached a settlement. I guess he and Maggie found another place, so he’s giving me the house. I can move back in anytime after Monday.”

  “Laura, that’s great! Aren’t you happy?”

  A tear rolled down my sister’s cheek when she answered, “Yes, I am. But I’m going to miss you.”

  We hugged for a long time, and my heart was actually aching. I was so happy fo
r Laura because I knew it made sense for her to go home. That being said, I would miss my goodie-two-shoes, judgmental, polar opposite sister more than anything in the world. I was one way, she was the other. I had an opinion on something, hers was always different. I was the wild, fun, ditzy sister. She was the giving, selfless, serious, smart one. We drove each other crazy. But we truly were best friends.

  Through these tough times and through living together, Laura and I had learned to see things through each other’s eyes. We’d realized that having such vastly different viewpoints on things can be healthy, and we learned to take each other’s points of view as valuable gifts, not judging so much, but appreciating a different outlook. And I felt so fortunate for that.

  “Good night, Laura,” I said when my sister decided to head upstairs to bed, “I’ll miss saying that to you in person.”

  She smiled at me. “Me, too. Thanks for being my best friend.”

  “Same to you.”

  “You coming up?”

  “In a minute.”

  Once Laura went upstairs, I opened the envelope Alice gave me. To my surprise, inside were several cut-up pieces of paper with writing on them. I smiled as I dumped the contents onto the kitchen table. ‘Leave it to Alice to write me a letter and cut it up into a puzzle,’ I thought, turning all the pieces right-side-up.

  It took me a minute to put it together.

  “Dear Emma,” it began, “I want to let you know that I am truly happy for you. What you have done professionally is amazing and well deserved. I respect and admire you a great deal. Your life has been like this letter, a puzzle, and you’ve had to figure out how to put the pieces together. From the looks of things, you’ve accomplished that and more. You now have everything you want: your health, a healthy, wonderful child, a nice home, a great family, and a wonderful career. And you can take credit for all of it because you bought into putting the past behind, thinking positively, working hard, and doing the right things. But there’s a piece missing in your puzzle. Go out and get him, Emma.”

  On the verge of tears, I read the last line. “He’s your free gift with purchase.” The letter was signed, “I love you, Alice.”