Somehow, Rowena was not surprised. "Well," she said, "don't let me keep you from your work."
"Rowena. I know this--this doesn't look glamorous, but I'm still the same guy I always was--"
"I know," said Rowena. "Good-bye, Ferd."
"Don't you hear the lady?" demanded Leslie. "Get lost." Ferd glared at him and brandished his stick.
"This doesn't look glamorous," he said, "but I'm still a used-car dealer really, and--"
"Ferd--"
"--And your mother likes me."
"Ferd, that is really not a--"
"Who is this guy?" Berna whispered loudly. Rowena wished there were some way she could ignore all of them at once.
"Ferd," she said, "and Leslie--"
"Leslie?" said Ferd. "That's a girl's name!" He tried to appeal to Rowena as Leslie tried to look threatening without risking the stick. "You need a man," Ferd said. "A real man. Not some . . . some . . . not him."
"What makes you think she needs you?" Berna asked.
"Yeah!" said Leslie--unwisely, Rowena thought, as the same could be (and often was) said of him.
Ferd raised his stick threateningly. Rowena took a deep breath, preparing to yell at one or both of them. But she saw Ferd freeze, and turn just a little pale.
"What is this?" Eloise snarled.
"Nu--nuth--I was just--I'm a friend of Rowena's and--"
"No, he isn't," said Rowena quietly.
"You have two seconds," said Eloise, "to remove yourself and that stick. One."
"Yeah!" said Leslie Campbell.
"And you," Eloise said, "have until I count three to join the men on the other side of the potato salad." She took a deep breath, the better to say "Two."
But Ferd and Leslie were already gone.
After everyone had had as much potato salad as he or she could handle, Eloise clapped her hands. "Attention!" she said. "I call this picnic to order!"
They stared at her. Eloise laughed. "Game time!" she said. "But first this announcement: Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed are not here. They were not able to attend this year, but they send their best."
Rowena had somehow forgotten about Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed. Marjorie, however, had not. She let out a low moan. "And here my potato salad was so good," she said. Berna snorted, but Eloise was not done talking.
"I know it's a great disappointment, and Mr. Schmed did have such fun a couple of years ago when he managed to join us here. He and Mr. Rorschach must be disappointed too.
"Now, back to the games. I need everybody to pair up into teams."
"Rowena!" yelled Leslie Campbell.
"We're starting with the sack race," Eloise began, "after which we do a three-legged race--"
"Rowena!"
Where was Sammy now she really needed him? "I'm teaming up with Berna," Rowena said. She turned to Berna. "Right?"
"You gonna make sure I get a piece of that cake?"
"Done."
"Roweeennnaaaaa!"
"CAMPBELL!" bellowed Eloise. "If you can't play nicely, you'll have to go home. Without your bonus."
Leslie grumbled a bit under his breath as Eloise outlined the game schedule: The usual collection of relays, wheelbarrow races, and so on. Rowena was not enthusiastic about all this, but it was hardly worth causing a scene. She waited patiently for Eloise to issue an order.
"Well, we didn't do too badly," said Berna, eyeing her piece of cake with a satisfied air.
"Not too badly," Rowena said, setting her own portion down in front of her. All she'd really wanted was not to come in last. That--and Sammy. Where was he?
"Good cake," Molly said, seating herself with a smile.
"Thanks."
"It's certainly a nice change from potato salad," Berna said. "Though I wish we'd had something a little less rich at some point." She cut a bite off with her fork and impaled it. "Do you suppose that suck-up Marjorie really threw the wheelbarrow race to Eloise and Sylvia?"
"I don't know," Rowena said. "I was a little busy at the time." She looked over at Sara, who seemed still angry at the defeat. She'd been angry enough at being paired with Marjorie instead of Boris, whom she was now regaling with a story about somebody whose IQ was "running a digit deficit"--evidently her way of impressing computer nerds. Although Boris, Rowena thought, did not look especially impressed.
"Hey, Rowena--"
"Go away, Leslie." Rowena didn't even turn around. "After what you did during the three-legged race . . ."
"I didn't see you!"
"Yeah," Berna said. "Right."
"But--"
"Go away!" Rowena yelled.
"Go away?" objected Sammy. "But I just got here." Rowena whipped around, then scrambled to her feet; there was Sammy, standing just behind Leslie, holding a grocery bag and smiling at her. She scooted around Leslie and gave her boyfriend a hug.
"Geez," Leslie muttered.
"Bye-bye, Leslie," Berna said.
Rowena disengaged herself. "Glad you could make it," she said.
"So'm I. I was beginning to wonder, for a while." He set down his grocery bag.
"In case anybody's still hungry, I've got some stuff here I picked up--"
"Oh, no!" cried Berna. Sammy looked at her a moment, then knelt down, reached into the bag, and pulled out a whole cantaloupe. He set it down on Rowena's blanket and reached back into his bag to pull out four apples, three plums, and a plastic bowl filled with cherries.
"Hey!" somebody yelled. Berna, momentarily speechless, had picked up the cantaloupe and was holding it in both hands.
"But how do we get it open?" she asked.
"Ah," said Sammy. "Here's the magic part." He produced an elongate packet, which he unwrapped to reveal a serrated knife. "I bought the fruit last night," he said. "So I had time to wash everything off and grab a knife out of the drawer." He held out his hand for the cantaloupe, but Berna wanted to cut her own piece, and so he gave her the knife instead.
"Watch out! She's armed!" somebody said.
"Save some for me!" said somebody else. Berna ignored them both. As she cut her slice, Molly selected a plum and Rowena scooped up some cherries and another hand reached down and then Marjorie was nudging her out of the way.
"Would you like some fruit, Eloise?" Marjorie called sweetly, and popped a cherry into her mouth.
The awarding of the bonuses was a solemn event, at least theoretically. One by one, in order of seniority, employees' names were called and they trooped forward to receive a thin smile and an envelope from Eloise. Some of the smiles, Rowena noted, looked more strained than others. With each award Eloise made an announcement as to the number of years that employee had served; Molly, Rowena learned, had been with the company thirteen years. Thirteen years at Rorschach & Schmed.
At last it was her turn. She took her envelope, thanked Eloise, and went back to where Sammy waited for her. She thought that the smile Eloise had given her had not looked especially pained, although Eloise had always had a hard time looking actively pleased. Seated, Rowena turned the envelope in her hands; it was white, as crisp as Eloise herself, and had her name on it, in Eloise's familiar stiff hand. Whatever was inside was a secret; Eloise had warned them all not to discuss the amounts they received.
Marjorie accepted her own envelope, then came back to sit again near Rowena. "I'm rich!" she whispered loudly, fanning the air. She ripped noisily at the flap. Rowena turned away from her to watch the end of the ceremony. And then she applauded, and then she opened her envelope.
Inside was a flower-bedecked greeting card, in which Eloise had written, "Rowena--Thank you for all your hard work!" The card was signed by Eloise, and by Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed. And it contained a twenty-dollar bill and a five.
Rowena closed up the card and replaced it in its envelope. She peeked over at Marjorie, who looked positively stricken. Rowena wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for her or whether to laugh. She turned to Sammy.
"I'll buy dinner," she said.
Rowena shook out her
blanket and folded it; the picnic was officially over. Marjorie was still grumbling, and, as usual, she chose to grumble at Rowena.
"Twenty bucks," she said. "Twenty lousy bucks. I guess it's 'cause it's the twentieth anniversary, huh?"
"Could be," Rowena said. She'd joined the firm only a month or two before Marjorie had, but she'd received twenty-five percent more. Who had decided she was worth twenty-five percent more?
"Twenty lousy bucks," said Marjorie again. "And they didn't even write my name in the card or anything. It could have been for anybody." Leslie Campbell, sensing discontent, drifted over despite Sammy's presence.
"Shit," he said. "Of all the rotten tricks to play." He glared at Rowena, then at Marjorie, and then at Rowena again. "Bonus, my ass. Three bucks! They call that a bonus?" He waved his envelope in the general direction of Eloise. "Barely even covers the cost of the soda! I feel sorry for those schlubs who got all that deli stuff." He took a few steps away, the turned back to them again. "I hope she realizes I outsmarted everybody," he said. "I knew what to do!" He turned again and stomped off.
"He only got three?" Marjorie said. She looked much more pleased. "I guess they like me after all." She turned to Rowena. "Hey, how much did you get?" she asked.
"More than three," Rowena said. "Beyond that, I'm sworn to secrecy."
"Oh, that," Marjorie said. "You can tell me."
"Sorry," Rowena said. "Consider it sucking up to Eloise."
"Humph!" said Marjorie. "Sucking up. That's pathetic." She gathered up her own things, happily superior.
"So I don't have a rich girlfriend?" Sammy asked, as they trudged back to the parking lot.
"Not in that sense," Rowena said. She touched his shoulder; she had an arm free because he was helping her carry her things. The food they had brought was gone.
"Clever," he said. "No wonder Eloise likes you." He stood by as she opened her car door. "So," he said, "how much would you have given Leslie Campbell?"
"Me? I wouldn't give him the time of day."
He handed her the blanket. "Are you meaning to tell me that Eloise--or Mr. Schmed, or whoever--is a softie after all?"
"Well . . ."
He laughed. "Come on," he said. "You can think about it on the way to dinner." He touched her hair. "Where are you taking me?" he asked.
Rowena thought of a place, was about to tell him, but changed her mind. "It's a secret," she said. "Follow me and don't ask any questions."
He grinned at her. He seemed about to speak, but Rowena forestalled him with a kiss. "I'll follow you, all right," he said. "I'll follow you anywhere."
Rowena kissed him again, then got into her car. She gave him time to get to his car and start it, then pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, Sammy following as promised.
Rowena Saves Some Stuff
Fiction by S. D. Youngren
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Rowena leaned back in her chair. "Does it have to be tomorrow night?" she asked Terese. Tomorrow night she had a date with Sammy.
"If they're not collected by tomorrow night, my mom says she's throwing them away," Terese said. "And it's a little late to do it tonight."
Rowena shifted the phone to her other ear, as if she thought that would help. "What's the big rush?" she asked.
"Something to do with painting all the rooms and something to do with being sick of looking at the things," Terese said. "Especially the rocking chair. Which . . . it may not be the most gorgeous rocking chair in the world, but it's not that bad." Rowena sighed. "She says if I take it back while I'm `between boyfriends' I don't have to tell the next one why my mother had my rocking chair and where it came from and he doesn't have to get a complex about its being a gift from somebody else and make me get rid of it again."
Rowena remembered this. "Because you got it from a previous boyfriend?" she'd asked at the time. "No," Terese had answered, "because of what I used to do in it with the previous boyfriend." This had made only partial sense to Rowena--was he going to make her get rid of the bed, too, or perhaps the floor?--but there were certain things she didn't believe in arguing about. Now she said, "Well, if you want to keep them . . ."
"I want to keep them," Terese said. "At least the chair and the mirror. That's why I have to go get them before my mom does something I'll regret later."
"Okay," Rowena said. "I'll help."
"Thanks," said Terese. "I'll even throw in a free, albeit cheap, dinner as a personal thank-you. Just like one of those Call Now ads on TV."
"I'm overwhelmed," Rowena said.
"And it can't wait?" Sammy asked.
"Not according to Terese."
"Well, let's see. Want to make it . . . no, wait, I have to deliver something . . . Sweetheart, I don't know that I have any free evenings until the weekend."
"Oh, Sammy." Rowena sighed.
"Saturday, my love," Sammy said. "I'll see you Saturday. Right?"
Rowena smiled a bit into the phone. "Right," she said.
They had time to make plans for the weekend, to share a little news, to laugh a bit together. It wasn't so bad being unable to see Sammy tomorrow night when she had him on the phone right now. She listened to his voice, the warmth of it. She couldn't see him, couldn't touch him, but he was almost, almost right there.
"Thanks again," said Terese. "I really appreciate this." She had just picked Rowena up; they were in the car.
"Don't mention it," Rowena said. She felt uncomfortable when someone thanked her for doing something she wasn't sure she wanted to do.
Terese eased out for a left turn. "Did I tell you my mom's looking forward to seeing you again?" she said. "Prepare to explain all about your life these days."
"Haven't you told her anything about that?"
"What difference does that make?" Terese slowed to a stop. "Besides, no one tells Eloise stories like you."
"How many people do you know who tell Eloise stories at all?"
Terese laughed. "Trust me," she said. "Nobody does it better." Rowena rolled her eyes, although not at the prospect of talking to Terese's mother. She liked Terese's mother.
They drove on. Rowena got Terese to tell her a few stories from her job, something Terese generally seemed reluctant to do; Terese maintained that Rowena's job was much more interesting. "Well, last week Tom took some copies out of the copy machine a little, shall we say, inattentively, and stapled them without looking at them. He figured he'd had the copies printed last page first, and what was there to check?"
"What indeed?" asked Rowena, and waited.
"He held it upside down," Terese said, "and stapled the wrong corner. The lower right." She gave Rowena a moment to think about it. "And never did notice it until Ms. Farnham nicely pointed it out to him."
"Nicely nicely," Rowena asked, "or not-so nicely?"
"Depends on who's telling the story. As it's me . . ." She gave Rowena a brief but wicked grin.
"So what happened?" She had not told Terese about her own recent mistake. Not that she thought Terese was perfect, but . . .
"Same thing as happens to a Certain Person at your place," Terese said. "Nothing. Except of course that he had to do it over." She pulled up to a stoplight. "Told you your job is more interesting than mine."
They arrived at Terese's parents' house. Terese parked in front, and her mother greeted them at the door.
"Hello, Terese, thank you. Hello, Rowena; good to see you. It's been so long."
"Yes, it has," Rowena said. Terese's mother's name was Anne, but Rowena had a hard time calling her that; she had been too young when they had first met, years and years ago.
Anne ushered them in. She was already preparing the living room for painting; furniture was missing, drop cloths were spread all over the floor, and Rowena now noticed a roll of masking tape in Anne's hand and a number of old stains on the faded sweatshirt she wore.
"Geez, Mom," Terese said. "You've made your point."
&nbs
p; "What was that?" Anne asked. "Did I hear an offer to help paint?"
"I said, I always did like that sweatshirt you've got on," said Terese gamely.
"What, this old thing?" Anne asked, and they all laughed. "Terese, your dad's at the store now, picking up a few odds and ends for me; I don't know how soon he'll be back. Can I get you two anything?"
The kitchen was still in order. They sat down at Anne's table and ate thick slices of Anne's homemade bread, toasted light for Rowena and a bit darker for Terese.
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