“You look great,” said a copywriter with a sleek blond ‘do and black suit. Her urbane get-up made him feel disheveled in comparison. The feeling had nothing to do with the crisp suit he’d donned, and everything to do with the jacket sleeve cuffed halfway up his forearm and the crutch he leaned upon.
“We’re so happy to see you!” A bubbly producer threw her arms around his neck. Her enthusiastic embrace caused him to wobble and adjust his stance. He cupped an arm around her and then let go.
“Thanks. I appreciate all the cards and flowers. How are you?” He looked around at his staff, nodding and murmuring affirmations. Their care warmed him, yet wide-smiled stares were tinged with tightness. A young copywriter broke away from the huddle, but not before he glimpsed her crumpled chin and wet eyes. He’d exerted monumental effort to go from immobile in a hospital bed to walking. In his own assessment, he was doing much better. But this employee and her colleagues had last seen him as a capable, whole man.
He straightened, an attempt to regain the feeling of stature his physicality had lost. The group quieted, waiting for his words.
“It’s really great to be back. I’m proud of the bang-up job you guys are doing. Congrats on winning REBBL. I know how you really pulled together these last few months. So many of you reached out to me. I’m sorry I wasn’t in any shape to see all of you. It’s been . . . hard.” His throat tightened.
He glanced away, seeking to regain composure. Here he was, at the center of the business he’d built. Where everything was the same—maybe even better—except him.
“Now that Phoenix’s here, we are really going to kick some butt,” came a jovial voice. The crowd cheered. Dex stepped around the back of the group to join Phoenix at the center of the ragged circle. “Who are we going to win next?”
People called out names of pitches and accounts under review.
Dex’s familiar grin was just what Phoenix needed to pull himself together. He turned towards his buddy. “Thanks to you, and Liv and everyone for helping out these last few months.”
“You would’ve done the same for any of us,” Dex said. He faced their employees. “This team’s really the best in the business. Now go scarf some pastries.”
The crowd dissipated, most heading towards the buffet. Some art directors and copywriters pressed nearer. “Hey, can I set up time to bounce an idea off you?” “Do you have time to meet my new hire later today?”
Liv parted the crowd with one sharp shoulder and took her place at Phoenix’s side with a tilt of her chin. “Mr. Walker, we need to prep before your ten a.m.,” she said, looking up at him through glinting glasses.
“Sure, thanks. Excuse me, everyone.” He followed Liv down the long corridor to his office overlooking Midtown.
“Do I really have a ten a.m.?” he asked, out of earshot of the others.
“Yes, you’re scheduled for a rendezvous with a double espresso,” she said, indicating the miniature handled mug on his desk.
“Brilliant. Thanks.”
Relieved to have a moment off feet untested for marathon workdays, he sank into his chair and stared at the cool white expanse of his desk. Liv’s neat efficiency kept the objects to a minimum. His Mac sat open, logged into an email account showcasing no unread messages. A picture of his parents with him and Caleb at their last birthday celebration stood in one corner. Which reminded him of the photo with Orchid that she’d framed from their sunny day in Cannes.
No time to contemplate where that picture had gone, as a steady stream of co-workers came by to welcome him back and inform him of business dynamics.
By two p.m., Phoenix still hadn’t had time to eat the roast beef panini Liv had brought back during her lunch break.
She knocked, and pushed through the glass door to interrupt his conversation with Dex. “Five minutes,” she told the big guy, “and then Mr. Walker has to leave for an appointment.”
The barrel-chested executive leaned back, chair groaning in protest. “With whom?” he boomed.
“It’s a private meeting, but I think he’s interviewing replacement executive creative directors,” she snarked, allowing the door to swing shut on the appreciative audience behind her.
Ten minutes later, Dex got up to leave. “It’s not been the same without you, buddy. You let me know anything you need.”
“Sure, thanks. I appreciate you and Fiona coming to see me in rehab.”
“You’re looking good.”
“Maybe better than right after I was run over by a train, but I doubt that I qualify for good.”
Liv peeked into the office, her brown-slicked hair and cat eyeglasses sending enough of a message without saying anything.
“Okay, okay.” Dex ambled out as she entered.
Phoenix looked up at his administrative assistant. “I don’t have an appointment, do I?” Suddenly, he realized how tired he felt.
“You are on half days until further notice. Dr. Liv’s orders,” she said, picking up his uneaten sandwich and placing it into an oil-spotted paper bag already heavy with other contents. “I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
She walked out with him, matching her pace to his, carrying her rigid, structured purse in one hand and his bagged lunch in the other.
At the street, she put up a hand for a cab and one pulled over within minutes as if no one dare ignore the efficiency she embodied. He caned down the curb to the door she opened for him, grateful to sink onto the seat. She shut his door and then, surprising him, slid in on the other side, behind the driver.
“East Eighty-Fifth at York,” she told the bearded man, pulling the door shut behind her.
“You don’t have to come with me,” Phoenix said, resting his cane against the side of the door.
“When else am I going to get an excuse to sneak out of work early?”
“You must have an ogre of a boss.”
“Yup. The worst.”
“You probably won’t even get Thanksgiving off.”
“Never,” she agreed, lips stretching across her tiny face.
He turned forward, facing right into the cabbie’s ID picture. The swarthy fellow overflowing with facial hair didn’t have the doughy bulbous nose or bushy eyebrows of the homeless man. But there was no telling that to the images suddenly racing through his mind. He shut his eyes to stop picturing the bearded guy with crazed eyes leaping for the tracks.
When he forced them open again, Liv was staring at him. “You okay?”
“No,” he admitted.
“I was just kidding about the bad boss.” She put a tentative hand on his arm.
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Pull over,” she demanded through the opening in the clear plastic partition.
Liv tossed a twenty-dollar bill up front as the car slowed. She jumped out and stalked around to his side. Yanking open his door, he tumbled out and leaned on his cane to get up onto the curb.
“What’s wrong?” she pleaded.
His knees didn’t feel strong enough to hold him up. “The homeless guy . . . from the subway.”
Liv’s mouth fell open in horror, shooting a useless stare at the already departed cab. “That was him?”
He shook his head. “Just looked like him.”
Liv’s brows knitted behind semi-circular spectacles. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. I’ll just walk home. You go.”
“No way. I’m not leaving you.”
He glared at her.
“It’s only a few blocks,” Liv reasoned. “We can either call an uber, or I’ll walk with you.”
“Let’s walk.” He found he could take steps, each steadier than the prior one.
As they made their way to his apartment, she pressed. “Is there someone I can call?”
“No, I’ll be fine.
”
“What about Caleb?”
“I’m not calling my brother.”
“Anyone else?”
He shook his head with a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
“Well, I’m always here,” she said.
His loneliness was not a subject he wanted to discuss; he was glad they’d arrived.
“Thanks again,” he said, entering the foyer and passing the guard’s desk.
“There’s enough for lunch and dinner in here,” she said, holding up the white paper bag as she accompanied him to the elevator. He’d forgotten about the need for meals. Liv hadn’t.
“That’s really thoughtful,” he said, tucking the bag into the crook of his left elbow. An appetite for food seemed as foreign as cactus in a rainforest.
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“Thanks, but there’s no need.”
She looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow as she formulated a smarmy remark. “Even though you’re a terrible boss, you know I’d do anything for you.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute,” he said, turning toward the elevator.
The next morning, Phoenix groaned upon seeing Liv in his lobby.
“If you didn’t have new clothes on, I’d guess you’d been here all night,” he said dryly to the pert brunette.
“Who else is going to introduce your new driver?” she asked, accompanying him outside.
“New driver?” Sure enough, a dark sedan livery service stood at the curbside. Inside sat an elderly gentleman with hair the same color and density as a dandelion gone to bloom.
“Don’t worry. I negotiated. Once we arrange the pickup and drop-off times, it’s not much more than an uber.” She welled with pride.
Phoenix introduced himself to the elderly gentleman and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Am I that bad off, that I need a babysitter?” he asked Liv, maneuvering into the back seat.
“You’re not the only agency head to have a driver, you know.”
“Thanks, Liv,” he managed. From the back seat, he stared at the blue accessible parking tag she must’ve ordered. Above the seated figure in a wheelchair, the placard was stamped in capital letters: PERMANENT.
Like I need a reminder that this isn’t temporary?
As they merged into traffic, the hangcard swung from the rearview mirror like a noose.
CHAPTER 30
ONE MORE CUP OF COFFEE
Phoenix
SUNDAY NOVEMBER 18
The loneliness of being home propelled Phoenix outdoors. He turned towards the Starbucks near his building. A tall woman with golden-brown hair in a long bob arrived before him. She was dressed professionally for a weekend. She wore a belted coat over dress slacks.
She eyed his cane and swung the door open for him.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She stepped in behind him.
“Please,” he gestured, “you were here first.”
“I’d prefer to have an excuse to delay getting to my office. You go ahead. And if you could linger over the ordering, you’d be doing me a favor.”
Phoenix tried not to be intrigued. The granite slab of her back, like an I.M. Pei monument, was antithesis of the soft, sensual one he missed. “What horror are you trying to delay?”
“Corporate tax review.”
“Are you an accountant?”
“Actuary.”
He snickered.
“I’m not joking.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed harder.
“I’m a CFP,” she added, seeming proud of her certified financial planner status.
Phoenix tried to control his clenching stomach muscles. The queue moved ahead, and though he was next in line, he couldn’t gain enough self-control to close the gap between him and the cashier. He waved the woman forward, “Please—”
She looked at him askance and turned to the barista. “Caffe Americano, two Splendas.”
Phoenix composed himself enough to join her. “Double espresso, black.” He pulled out his credit card, “I’ve got these,” he said.
“You paying for laughing at me?”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. But I would like to pay.”
They waited at the counter for their brews. He didn’t know what overcame him. “Would you like to sit for a moment and delay the tax filing further? I’ll try to explain my jocularity.”
She nodded with such conservation of motion that he wasn’t sure it was assent.
When their drinks arrived, she double-fisted them and followed him to a small round table.
She sat and put out her hand. “Catarina Dubrovski; friends call me Rina.”
The last time he’d laughed this much was with a woman who couldn’t be part of his life. Phoenix grimaced. He rested his cane against the wall to shake her hand. “Phoenix Walker.” He settled into a chair and tried to get serious.
“Ms. Dubrovski, I hope I’ve not offended you. I work in advertising, and we had a creative idea about bots replacing actuaries. It was hysterical but too offensive to be produced.”
“Well, Mr. Walker, there’s nothing funny about actuaries.”
He took a sip of the scalding espresso and used the pain to still his mirth. “Well, Ms. Dubrovski, I’ve laughed more just now than I have in a month.”
“If the idea of actuaries cracks you up, it must’ve been some serious month.”
“Yea, it’s not been a great few months.”
She nodded and pulled out a business card. “If you ever need an actuary here’s my number.” She wrote her personal contact information on the back of the card.
He peered down at it. “Your office isn’t far from mine.”
“I’m here on assignment from Toronto, and I’ve picked up some tips, like don’t try to find an uber on a rainy day, and don’t buy the homeless a sandwich ‘cause they just want the money.”
He was suddenly inspired by the idea of her being a welcome diversion at an upcoming family commitment. “Have you ever experienced Thanksgiving in America?”
“Not yet, but call me. It’d be fun to spend Thanksgiving being laughed at.”
CHAPTER 31
SIXTEEN SALTINES
Phoenix
THANKSGIVING, THURSDAY NOVEMBER 22
Caleb and Rina accompanied Phoenix to Uncle George and Aunt Betsy’s brownstone. Mom embraced her boys. Phoenix turned to introduce the woman behind him in the foyer, clothed in a metal-gray interview-ready suit. “Rina is on assignment in New York from Canada.”
The large-framed woman offered a handshake.
Mom took it, and eyed Rina with an appraising expression like a physician discovering a pernicious infection. Aunt Betsy hurried over and hugged her sister’s boys. “You two get better-looking every time I see you!”
Too polite to say so out loud, Phoenix leaned on his cane towards Rina. “Not sure how I should take that. Last time she’d seen me, I’d just been run over by a train.”
“She didn’t say anything about my appearance. Does that mean I look worse than someone who’s been run over by a train?”
Phoenix nearly choked laughing. That’s what he needed, someone to wisecrack over his accident. He caught sight of Caleb’s scowl.
“You okay?” Phoenix asked.
Caleb tried to straighten his face and brightened from scowl into grimace. “Yeah. You?”
“Sure.”
“It’s good to see you happy,” Caleb said.
Phoenix had a mix of feelings. Being in this place reminded him of Dad, and how the last time he’d been there, he’d been solid on his own two feet. The contrast pained him. Yet something about this no-nonsense woman reminded him how to laugh again.
They trailed their hostess and Mom, who were walking a
rm-in-arm.
Phoenix leaned on his cane to whisper to Rina, “My Uncle George has a heavy hand at the bar. He needs one for his own sanity.”
“I don’t drink,” she whispered back.
This serious woman appeared to need a drink as much as any of them.
“I’m not joking,” she said.
He couldn’t help it and cracked up.
“Are you laughing at me again?”
In the kitchen, George was already plunking hand-cut ice into tumblers and rimming the glasses with lemon wedges. He stopped when he spotted his guests.
He pulled each boy into a hug. He looked appraisingly at Phoenix all the way to the ground. “Well, look at you. As good as new.”
“Hardly,” Phoenix replied. At least Rina chuckled at his dry tone.
Mom turned. “Thanks, George. Phoenix worked so hard at physical therapy and is doing really well. He’s back at work. You’d hardly know what he’s been through.”
Is my family daft? His left sleeve was half-empty. His upright stance was only possible with a crutch.
Their hosts ushered them into the sitting room. Every surface appeared covered in fine fabric, from the windows framed with damask curtains to the overstuffed camelback sofas strewn with tasseled pillows. His cousins Stew and Harry stood to greet them. Caleb joined the guys around a chess table, perching his broad mass on a delicate upholstered chair.
Mom, George and Betsy gathered on loveseats nearest the mantled fireplace, settling drinks onto side tables.
Phoenix rested his cane against the camelback to place a hand on the sofa before easing into the seat.
“Can I get you a drink?” he offered Rina. He realized too late that he probably couldn’t deliver if she assented.
“I still don’t drink, same as five minutes ago. But I can get you one.” She stood and insisted. “Seriously, this one’s on me.”
Goodbye, Orchid Page 12
