Serendipity

by Fern Michaels

  Low to the ground, their fat bellies tickling the carpet, the dogs watched Jory’s fancy footwork as she raced about the room in search of just the right dress, just the right shoes, just the right earrings, just the right perfume. She finally settled for a persimmon-colored dress with white collar and cuffs and an elegant braided leather belt she’d gotten on sale three years ago in Fort Lauderdale. Her pumps and handbag matched the belt perfectly. She added a splash of Arpège and a slash of lipstick. Her fading tan required no makeup. Thank God she’d tweezed her eyebrows two days ago. She debated for three whole minutes over three different pairs of earrings, finally settling for a delicate pair of gold filigrees. She worked at her hair, pulling it back into a French twist but leaving a feathering of shorter curls to frame her face. By God, she looked fashionable.

  Downstairs, Jory barricaded the kitchen, laid down fresh papers and saw to the water bowls. A large bowl of kibble was set in the middle of the floor. “Share,” she said, wagging a finger at the dogs. “I’ll just be a few hours. We’ll go for a long walk when I get back.” To make her point, she pointed to the colored strings hanging from a peg by the back door. The pups understood the word walk and immediately scampered to the back door, their warm, wet eyes gazing longingly at the colored leashes. “When I get back.” While their backs were turned, Jory stepped over the gate and left the house by the front door.

  Jory was out of the Democrat office by noon, her arms loaded, her head buzzing like an active beehive. They were giving her two weeks to write six columns, set up a filing system, and recruit a team of “experts” to draw from when she needed expert advice outside the area of common sense. She was to pick up Auntie Ann’s mail once a week. All letters would remain the property of the Democrat. She even had an expense account, though it was not to exceed twenty dollars a month. The last thing the editor-in-chief, a frizzy-haired, cigar chomping, overweight, overworked man, said was: “I want three months’ worth of columns ahead, in case anything goes wrong.” That meant she was going to have to literally work around the clock to get thirty-six columns ahead.

  On her way to the car to unload her bags of supplies and reference books, Jory ran her end of the conversation over in her mind. She hadn’t actually said much other than, “Fine, I can do it, thank you, I’ll do my best, and yes I understand.” She’d said fine about six times until the editor said sourly, “It will be fine when I see a ton of mail coming in here for Auntie Ann, and you’re up thirty-six columns.” Then she’d said, “Yes, sir, I understand, sir, thank you for giving me this opportunity.” He’d just glared at her and pointed to the door.

  My God, she really was Auntie Ann.

  She thought about the celebratory lunch she’d promised herself as she locked the car, her bags and books neatly piled on the backseat. Should she go ahead with it or go back to the dogs and start to work? She opted for the lunch. She deserved it, but where to go? She was so excited she wondered if she’d be able to eat. Anywhere would do. Even the pub across the street or the deli on the corner. A pastrami on rye with lots of mustard and two pickles would be good. She headed for the In and Out Deli, which promised quick service.

  Jory was down one pickle and starting on the second half of her sandwich when she heard a voice say, “Mind if I join you?”

  “Woo! Of course not. Please, sit down.”

  “What brings you to this end of town, Miss . . . Ryan?” Woo asked, seating himself on the spindly chair opposite her.

  “The Democrat. I had to pick up some things, and decided to treat myself to lunch. Oh, Woo, I just had the most wonderful news, but I can’t tell you what it is. Walking over from the parking lot, I realized I have no one to share good news with. The dogs don’t count,” she said impishly.

  Woo didn’t mean for his voice to sound so sour when he said, “What good is a secret if you can’t tell someone?” She must be referring to Jasper Landers’s gift of the Landers Building, he thought. And he was so sure she’d turn it down. He felt cheated and angry that this girl, whom he really liked, could disappoint him like this. Ross would never let him live it down.

  “That’s how I feel.” Jory grinned. “But this is a professional secret. It has to do with my job. Confidentiality and all that kind of stuff. Being a lawyer, surely you understand what I mean.”

  “You bet. Yes, of course. Well, that kind of secret you have to keep. Could I coax it out of you?” he asked jovially. Thank God, he thought.

  “Not on your life. How are you, Pete? Do you like your job over at TIF? Is everything okay at the carriage house?”

  “I’m just fine. The job at TIF is a job. It pays good and it’s a light workload. I like the carriage house. I think I’d make someone a good wife. I can cook, I clean, my bathroom sparkles, and I hang up my clothes. I dusted last night,” he said sheepishly. “I made a meat loaf, just like my mother makes. I’m not too good at gravy, though.”

  Jory giggled. “Gravy’s tough.”

  “What do you do?” Woo asked earnestly, leaning across the table. She had remarkable eyes. Other than lipstick that was almost gone, she wore no other makeup. He remembered the pounds of pancake makeup she used to wear. He was remembering a lot of things suddenly.

  “I strain out the lumps and add GravyMaster to give it the right color. I don’t like dry meat or dry potatoes.”

  “Me either. I like to dip my bread in the gravy.”

  “Me too!” Jory gurgled. “I like stuff cooked in one pot.”

  “No kidding! I do too. That’s how my mother cooks. There were so many of us, she had to stretch, and that’s how she did it. I make real good chili. Real good. Would I be out of line if I asked you to join me the next time I make it?”

  “If I’m not busy, I’d be happy to join you.”

  “When?”

  “The next time you make it.”

  “I could do that tomorrow.”

  “You’re making it sound like a date.”

  “Jeez no, I just hate eating alone. You can bring the dogs.”

  “Not tomorrow, how about next week?”

  “What day?”

  Flustered, Jory grappled with her tentative schedule. “How about Wednesday?”

  “It’s a date! I mean it’s a . . . well, what the hell is it?”

  “It’s . . . for heaven’s sake, I don’t know. Let’s just say we’re going to eat together.” Jory laughed.

  Ross Landers had heard, “It’s a date!” when he entered the deli. Now he approached their table and said, “Jory, how are you? Woo, I didn’t know you liked the In and Out Deli.”

  “I come here almost every day,” Woo said quietly.

  “Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to be on my way.” Jory winked at Woo before she snatched the pickle off his plate. Two pairs of eyes watched her leave. Woo attacked the remains of his corned beef sandwich. His eyes dared Ross to make a comment.

  “It’s been a hell of a day,” Ross said, removing his food from the tray to arrange it in a geometric pattern. He shuffled the plates, but he didn’t eat.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Woo asked, digging into a slab of pie topped with two scoops of ice cream.

  “Guess not. I tend to lose my appetite when I see my best friend having lunch with my wife and making a date.”

  Woo swallowed what was in his mouth before he laid down the fork. “As usual, Ross, you have it all wrong, and you know what, I’m not going to explain it to you either.”

  “I know what I saw,” Ross said coldly.

  “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

  “Looks that way,” Ross snapped.

  “That’s what I thought,” Woo said.

  Back in the office, Woo typed up his resignation. He put one copy in his briefcase and slid the other into one of TIF’s business envelopes. He placed it dead center on Ross’s desk. There was no one he cared to say good-bye to, so he left the office, saddened that his friendship with Ross would end like this.

  Jory was romping w
ith the dogs in the backyard when he arrived home. The dogs ran to greet him. Jory remained where she was, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. “Is something wrong, Woo?”

  “Depends on your point of view,” he said tightly. “I just quit.”

  “Why?” She knew why, but still she asked.

  “I think Ross thinks you and I are plotting behind his back or something like that. I guess he assumed our lunch was prearranged. Knowing Ross as I do, he would take that to mean I was trying to cut into his territory. He still considers you his wife.”

  “Well, I don’t!” Jory said hotly. “This is ridiculous. You just . . . quit and walked out?”

  “I left my resignation on Ross’s desk. But yeah, that’s pretty much what I did. God, all I felt was relief. I hated the job, but because of Ross I took it. The money was great. They were paying me three times what I’m worth. That’s how I was able to buy this rattletrap of a car and move here. Looks like I’m going to have to go back to Lancaster with my tail between my legs.”

  “Oh, Pete, I’m sorry. Look, I can talk to Ross, set him straight. I’ll tell him . . . whatever you want me to tell him. You’ve been such good friends for so long.”

  “That’s just it, Jory. This never should have happened. Ross should have more faith in me. I would never have reacted the way he did. I think he cares about you.”

  Jory hooted with laughter. “Come inside, Pete, and I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “Would you mind if I changed my clothes first?” he asked. “I think I’ll work in the yard afterward and work off some of this hostility.”

  Woo was back in time to hear the last plop of the percolator. “This is a nice kitchen, Jory. It’s cozy, reminds me of home. You’re happy, aren’t you?”

  “Pretty much so,” she replied, pouring him a cup. “I was never happy growing up here, though. Coming back as I did, when I did, it was like . . . okay, now it’s time, now I earned the right to come back. I know it sounds stupid, but that’s how I feel.”

  “It sounds good. Hmmm, this is good coffee. You are a surprise, Jory Ryan.”

  “What are you going to do, Pete?”

  The big man shrugged. “I don’t interview well. I don’t know why, but I tend to intimidate people. Christ, I hate billable hours and all that crap. You’d think I was an accountant instead of a lawyer.”

  “You just haven’t found your niche yet. You could try my father’s old offices. I still know a few people there, some of my father’s best friends. Can you see yourself as an assistant district attorney?”

  “I don’t know. I hate the thought of going back home and answering all those questions. I should have my life in order by now. It’s damn hard to be poor and ethical.”

  Jory burst out laughing. “Yeah, I found that out the hard way. I wonder what it’s like to be rich.”

  “You mean like Justine Landers? She doesn’t look like a happy woman to me. She’s so busy hating everyone and everything, she doesn’t even know what’s going on with the world. All she’s interested in is making money. That’s just my opinion, of course. Poor isn’t too bad as long as you don’t have to go hungry.”

  “My sentiments exactly. Stop that, Murphy!” Jory said sternly. “No, no, Clancy, that’s not nice. Down, I said down!”

  “How do you know their names? Don’t you get them mixed up? God, they look like four peas in a pod to me.”

  “I can’t tell them apart. They all respond to whatever name I use. I mixed up the strings one day and it was all over.”

  “That makes life simple,” Woo said, getting up. “Thanks for the coffee. Look, if you have something to do, I can watch the dogs for you. Fresh air is good for them.”

  “Okay, but if they get to be too much, just shoo them into the house. They more or less stay together and don’t go far. Thanks, Pete.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Pete?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry about the rent. You can stay as long as you like. I have a job, so you can take your time looking for something that suits you. It’s not charity, you can owe me. I feel terrible about Ross and you.”

  “Well, don’t. Things usually happen for the best. I just might take you up on your offer. I like it here. It’s the first time I’ve ever had my own place. Doesn’t say much for me at my age, does it?”

  “It says a lot, Pete. Guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, later.”

  As she set the coffee cups in the sink, Jory muttered to herself, “You’re getting involved, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  It was late in the afternoon when Woo stopped his yard work long enough to have a beer. He was sweating heavily from his efforts. The drink was refreshing. The pan of water he’d set out for the dogs was almost empty. A grin stretched across his face when he saw them sleeping in a ball, a jumble of legs and fur. They were simply worn-out with all the running and chasing they’d done. He liked the little rascals and realized they were becoming a part of his life, just the way the carriage house was becoming his home.

  It was a stupid thing he’d done, resigning and walking out on Ross the way he had, with no notice. He was in no position to take such a cavalier attitude, yet he’d done it. He’d never, ever, in the whole of his life done anything so impulsive. He never reacted to events on the spot, preferring to sit quietly and think things through, to come up with a satisfactory conclusion, or at the very least, a working method of dealing with a problem. He’d cut his losses, burned his bridges, and here he was, doing yard work and babysitting four dogs who were asleep at the switch. He threw back his head and roared with laughter, his huge body shaking. The dogs slept through the thunder of his emotions.

  One eye on the sleeping dogs, the other on the row of forsythia bushes he was about to trim, Woo was aware of a weaving shadow to his left. He turned and nodded to Ross.

  “I came to give this back to you,” Ross said, holding out Woo’s resignation letter. “I want to believe you reacted to the moment and don’t mean this. I also want to apologize. I was out of line. I don’t know what the hell got into me, Woo.”

  Woo shrugged his big shoulders. “I accept your apology. You’re right, I probably did overreact, but I’m not coming back.”

  “Why don’t you take a week off, with pay, and think about this before you make it definite? Jesus, Woo, what more do you want from me?” Ross said desperately.

  “Nothing, Ross. I don’t have to think about it. I knew it was a mistake the first week. Damn it, you did too. I was too gutless to quit, and too goddamn greedy. I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. You have this thing about me living here, and I like it here. I like working in the yard, I like these dogs, and I like your wife. I always liked Jory. No matter what you say, I’m not moving. I’m going to look for a job. Jory said I can stay and if I fall behind in the rent I can owe her. She’s a nice person, Ross, a really nice person. You already have it in your head that something is going on between us, and you’re wrong. Now that that’s out of the way, how about a beer or some soda pop?”

  “No thanks. Did you tell Jory about the building?” Ross asked tightly.

  “Jesus, Ross, what do you take me for? Of course I didn’t tell her, and I resent you asking me if I did. That’s your family’s business, not mine,” Woo said coldly. “What the hell is happening to us?”

  “I don’t know. You’re my best friend, you’re like a brother to me. And now we’re snapping and snarling at one another. I thought I was doing you a goddamn favor by getting you the job. I took it on for you. Shit, Woo, working for my mother was the last thing I wanted to do. I figured we’d give it a shot and go out on our own to hang up our respective shingles a year or so down the road. Things were fine until you stuck your nose in my business and moved here.”

  “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it, Ross? That friendship you speak of so highly obviously doesn’t include trust. Stick it, Ross, I don’t need that kind of friendship. If you have a
problem with Jory, don’t lay it on my doorstep. Deal with it.”

  “I am dealing with it. I filed for divorce. I’m going to knock on her door and hand her the deed and walk away. You’re right, I can’t accept you living here. There are hundreds of apartments in the city and on the outskirts, and you have to pick this particular one. Knowing the situation, I’d think you’d have more sense than to move here.”

  Ross had worked himself into a fury. “And as for this,” he continued, holding up Woo’s resignation, “this is what I think of your decision.” He tore the paper into small pieces and dropped them, fluttering, at the big man’s feet. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow morning at nine. You have a contract. I expect you to honor it.”

  “Sue me,” Woo grated.

  “Don’t think I won’t. Nine o’clock, Woo.”

  “Son of a fucking bitch!” Woo seethed when Ross had walked away. The forsythia bush fell under his wrath. He was a maniac as he raced down the line of overgrown greenery. When he was done he had nothing but stubble and a mountain of debris. Overhead a squadron of crows heckled him as they lighted like soldiers on the telephone wire stretching from the house. He continued to swear as he carried the severed limbs and branches to the back of the property. He’d bundle them and carry them to the curb over the weekend.

  The dogs were still sleeping when Woo walked into the carriage house for a second bottle of Iron City beer. He fired up a cigarette, his eyes murderous. “Why is it everything you touch turns to shit, Ross?” He mumbled as he slugged at the beer bottle. He hadn’t expected that business with the contract. “Which just goes to show, fellas, you never really get to know someone until you cross them.” It would be just like Ross to sue him to make his point. So much for goddamn friendships sworn to in blood.

  Ross looked around the comfortable living room, picturing Jory here at night with the dogs curled at her feet. It was a pleasant, contented picture, and he felt jealous. He wondered what the kitchen was like.