Fortunate Sum

by M. Ullrich

  Chapter Four

  Almost a week had passed since the disaster that was Alice’s birthday party, a week full of snow, sleet, and gloomy days that forced Catherine to work from home. Unlike the rest of the advisors at her firm, Catherine didn’t have a hard time focusing on work while she was surrounded by home comfort. She actually thrived in it. It allowed her to start earlier, work through with any necessary meals, and continue until she fell asleep atop her sheets with her laptop and files scattered across her king-size bed. Truth be told, Catherine’s clients benefited from Mother Nature’s latest temper tantrum.

  Catherine didn’t look beyond her front door for more than a takeout meal and the newspaper until the Friday afternoon that followed the party. Alice begged her to come for a cup of coffee at the little café down the street from Catherine’s apartment, saying she needed to escape two kids who had been snowed in for far too long. Catherine sat and stirred her espresso, waiting patiently for her friend to arrive. Usually punctual, Alice arrived a few minutes late due to the closed lanes and icy back roads.

  “I cannot get over this weather.” She shrugged off her green coat and hung it on the back of the chair across from Catherine at the small round table. Catherine looked up from the swirling bronze and mahogany colors on the surface of her drink and greeted Alice with a welcoming smile.

  “It is winter in the northeast,” Catherine said as Alice settled in and looked over the small menu.

  “It’s droll, and it’s making me bitter.” Alice’s frown perked up as she made a quick decision. “I’d kill for a vanilla cappuccino and one of their almond biscotti.”

  “Let me.” Catherine rose from her chair and started to make her way to the counter to order before stopping to add, “It’s the least I can do since I barely saw you for your birthday.”

  “Oh, we’ll talk about that when you get back.”

  “Great.” Sarcasm dripped from the single word as Catherine gritted her teeth and repeated Alice’s small order over and over in her head.

  Five minutes in line—two waiting patiently for the right portion of foam to be added and another minute to make it back to the table without spilling a drop—wasn’t nearly enough time for Catherine to put together enough of the right details of her story to satisfy her friend and keep out what she was reluctant to share.

  “Here you go.” She set the drink down along with the biscotti before settling back into her seat. “I really do love your hair like that.” Today, Alice’s new short do was left flat, but its natural body allowed it to fall into its own style, highlighting her deep green eyes.

  “It saves me twenty minutes in the morning. Dennis and the kids are wonderful, but,” she looked around before whispering as if sharing a great conspiracy, “I’m beginning to think this was the best decision I’ve ever made.” Alice pointed to her hair and laughed out loud, a hearty, deep rumble that Catherine joined.

  “It suits you. It goes perfectly with your style,” Catherine said, gesturing toward the magenta cardigan over a vintage Aerosmith T-shirt. “I’m jealous.”

  “There is a world beyond suits, you know. Remember those days?”

  “This isn’t a suit,” Catherine challenged. She raised her arms to allow an appraisal of her current, slightly relaxed outfit of jeans and a sweater. Alice stared blankly, clearly unimpressed. “Fine. You win. We can’t all be as fashionable as you.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere except out of telling me what happened Friday night.” Alice dipped her upper lip into the foam on her cappuccino.

  “Damn.” Catherine chuckled. “I don’t know where to start—with insulting the assistant or the fortune teller?” She ticked off the two options on her fingertips.

  “Psychic,” Alice corrected.

  “There’s a difference?” Catherine noted Alice’s glare. “Fine. Psychic.” She took a deep breath and relayed the evening step by step, every minute she hadn’t been able to forget since that night. She ended the tale with the words Sophia had spoken so clearly, so confidently, that they still sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Wow.” Alice looked away. Catherine could tell she was processing the new information, looking back at her when she asked, “So, are you going to meet with Sophia?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t believe in what she’s trying to sell, but there’s a small part of me that’s curious about what she’d say.”

  “She’s not technically trying to sell anything if the card says that the first appointment is free,” Alice pointed out.

  “True.” Catherine looked down into her now empty cup, the fine grounds outlining the bottom in a shape that resembled a heart. “What if she has nothing good to tell me?” Her voice was small, ashamed of the fear it held.

  “Such as?”

  “I won’t achieve the goals I have set for myself.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “Why is that so important to you? You’ve been obsessed with this idea of having a perfect life by the time you’re thirty for so long I’m pretty sure you’ve missed out on living most of it.”

  “You know my family. By the time my brothers were thirty, they had the career and the family. I already have a career that my father doesn’t approve of…” She let her voice trail off as the painful memories all came rushing back.

  “Just because you’re not a lawyer like daddy, Patrick, and Russ doesn’t make you any less successful.”

  “And I go home to an empty house every night. I figured that by now I’d have a guy to bring home that my dad could be proud of, you know? Someone who’d play golf at the club and chat about cars or whatever. My brothers have wives who spend time in the kitchen with my mom. Well, they make believe they do.”

  “Do they even know what a kitchen is?” Alice quirked an eyebrow.

  “Being with someone my dad actually likes would be the one thing I could have over them.” Catherine chose to ignore Alice’s accurate quip.

  “You’re talking a lot about what they would like for you, not what you would like.”

  Catherine spotted the challenge in her best friend’s eyes. “Alice…”

  “Fine.” Alice raised her palms in surrender. “I think the only solution is to just go see Sophia,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

  “How’s that the only solution?”

  “Well,” Alice took a sip of her beverage, “if Sophia says something you’re not satisfied with, your skepticism can easily discredit her words and you’ll continue on as if nothing happened.” She took a bite of her cookie and chewed slowly, leaving Catherine in suspense.

  “And?”

  “And if she says something positive, the hopeless romantic that I know is buried under those business suits will have a glimmer of hope to cling to.” One more bite and the biscotti was all gone, save a few crumbs scattered across the tabletop. “Maybe you’ll actually come home after a date and call me to say something positive for once.”

  Catherine pulled back, offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You usually just complain about the guy chewing with his mouth open or not holding the door for you.” Alice brought her mug up to her lips, but paused long enough to add, “Or dirty fingernails.”

  “No one wants to date someone with dirty—okay, you know what? I’m not arguing about this with you. I just have standards and whether you view that as romantic or not doesn’t matter.” But she knew Alice was right. She had nothing to lose by going to see Sophia, nor did she have anything to really gain.

  “Speaking of your romantic side, remember the paper you wrote for the creative writing final sophomore year?” Alice asked.

  “That was a terrible segue.”

  “I’m proud of it.” Alice smiled.

  “The story about the businessman and the artist?” Catherine laughed at herself and cringed slightly. “I still can’t believe you made me take that class. I was happy with my roster full of math courses.”

  “Ms. Nguyen really liked it, as did I. You’re not all about num
bers, you know?”

  They had been at this crossroads many times before. Neither would add more. Catherine knew Alice had her suspicions, but she could never bring herself to confirm them. Linda Nguyen. That was a name Catherine hadn’t thought of much in recent years. Hearing it brought about a whole new set of memories and a pain that still resonated until this day.

  After they had taken that class, both passing with flying colors, Catherine knew she had changed. A new lightness accompanied her footsteps, balanced out by the kind of heaviness that accompanied a dangerous secret. No matter how many times Alice tried to bring up Ms. Nguyen, Catherine would change the subject. And that was how it went for two years until the end of junior year when Catherine wouldn’t eat or leave their apartment for two weeks.

  “Both of you were delusional. It was an old story of forbidden love retold from the mind of someone who lacked imagination.” Catherine tried to keep her tone light, tried to keep the conversation from going any deeper into dangerous territory. With as much time as had gone by, Catherine should’ve been able to talk about it, to confide in her best friend about that time of her life, but the secret had become such a part of who she was, Catherine was unable to form the words.

  “Ms. Nguyen saw your potential. I wish you would.”

  You have no idea what she saw in me. Neither do I, Catherine thought to herself. A flash of beautiful, sharp almond eyes invaded her mind.

  “I can’t do this anymore.” Catherine had been practicing that one sentence in the mirror for over a week.

  “Can’t do what, exactly?” Linda wiped at the corner of her mouth with her cloth napkin and pushed aside her empty dinner plate.

  “The hiding and the sneaking. I’m tired of it, Linda.”

  “We’ve talked about this many times, and you said you understand. I could lose my job, you could get expelled—any scholarship you worked for could be revoked.” Linda spoke evenly. “We both knew this going in.”

  “I know, but I didn’t expect it to be so hard. I’ve been lying to my family and my friends—”

  “Alice is the last person who could ever know!”

  “I know.” Catherine shrank back into the dining chair. “I don’t see the harm in my family, though.” This had been a conversation they needed to have for a while now, and she wasn’t about to let her girlfriend intimidate her. “My mother keeps asking if I’ve met anyone…”

  “And you keep telling her no. It’s really quite simple.” Linda stood and grabbed their plates before heading to the kitchen. Catherine was on her heels.

  “But that’s just the thing! I have met someone, I am with someone, and I want to share that with them.” When Catherine didn’t receive a response except the sound of running water, she continued. “I am so in love with an amazing, brilliant, beautiful woman, and I want them to see how happy she makes me.” Linda’s rigid shoulders fell, and she turned to look a hopeful Catherine in the eye.

  “And when your mother asks how we met, when we met, what will you tell her? Will you tell her how you’d linger after class and ask for special attention on your writing assignments?” At Catherine’s soundless, dry stutter, Linda asked, “You didn’t think of that, did you?”

  “No, but—”

  “There’s not one parent who’d want to hear about their child getting involved with a teacher.” Linda shut the water off, leaving a deafening silence. “Things will change once you graduate.”

  Catherine watched as Linda threw the damp dish towel down and walked away. She was both angry and sad, not just at the situation she had willingly gotten herself into, but at how easily Linda seemed to accept their hidden romance. As a woman, why should she be content with being someone’s secret?

  “That won’t work for me.” She said the words quietly at first, but as they tumbled from her lips, she found a bravery she had lacked over the past year and a half. That newfound courage carried her to the living room where Linda was sitting on the edge of the sofa with papers sprawled out on the coffee table before her. “That won’t work for me. This isn’t working for me.”

  Linda sighed and sat back, her movements clearly indicating her growing frustration. “What’s the solution, then?” Linda stared with hard eyes as Catherine stood in front of her.

  “Quit.”

  Linda frowned.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Quit?” Linda said.

  Catherine nodded.

  “My job?” Catherine nodded again. “Are you giving me an ultimatum?” Linda asked.

  “No, I’m giving you the solution you asked for. You’ve told me about an opening at Stockton, you constantly complain about the faculty at Rutgers, your relationship with the dean is less than ideal, and we won’t have to keep us a secret anymore.” Catherine saw nothing but skepticism looking up at her. “We do want the same thing, right?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Linda looked away a second after she spoke, and Catherine knew what was coming next. “But I can’t just quit my job. I’m sorry, Cat.”

  “I am, too.” Catherine wiped away the tear from her left cheek with the back of her hand. She gathered her bag and jacket from where she’d dropped them only hours earlier and rushed for the back door. She didn’t want Linda to know how much hope she had had for the two of them. Catherine didn’t want to accept the reality of that misplaced hope either.

  “Wait!”

  Catherine paused in the open doorway. Linda gripped her wrist, pulled her back into the entryway, and closed the door. “Give me until the end of the semester.” They were standing so close that Catherine could feel Linda’s breath against her lips. It weakened her knees as well as her resolve.

  “You’ll quit?”

  “Yes,”

  “Promise?” Catherine was earnest.

  “I promise. But,” Linda raised her index finger in the air, “I need to get everything in order first. I can’t quit without another job lined up.” Linda released Catherine’s wrist and settled her hand on her hip. “I have bills that need to be paid and a girlfriend who really enjoys shrimp.” Her eyes softened when Catherine smiled.

  “I can wait until then.” Catherine kissed Linda softly, then asked, “Do those papers need to be graded tonight?”

  “Yes.” Linda leaned forward and captured Catherine’s mouth with a much deeper, exploratory kiss. When they separated, she started working the button of Catherine’s jeans and added, “But who cares? I’m quitting soon anyway.”

  Catherine shook off the memory. “Numbers and I were meant to be, that’s all there is to it,” she said with finality. She pushed her empty cup away and stared blankly at the tabletop linen.

  “Dennis has a potential client for you. Apparently it’s a pretty desperate case.”

  “A business?” Catherine relaxed at the subject change and perked up at shop talk.

  “I think it may be more of a private situation, I’m not sure. I didn’t get many details other than a hefty inheritance that needed to be put someplace safe.”

  “You know I prefer to work with a company’s money, not individual bank accounts.” Catherine hated clients who rarely worked for the money they had and acted stupid when it came to handling it beyond spending.

  “Consider this a favor for a friend of a friend.” Alice paused, looking thoughtful. “A friend of a friend of a friend would be more accurate, I guess. Whatever. Anyway, if you’re interested, I can arrange for them to come over for dinner one night, and you can do the initial evaluation then. Think about it.” Alice rose and slid into her jacket, and Catherine mirrored the action with her own black leather bomber.

  “You know I’ll do it.”

  “Great. Will you call Sophia?” They were buttoned and bundled and walking out the door.

  “I think I will.” Catherine pulled the business card from her pocket and turned it over in her hand a couple times. Standing beneath the café awning, hiding behind thick white puffs as they breathed in and out, the women smiled at each other and hugged good-bye.


  “I knew you would,” Alice whispered into her frigid ear.

  ❖

  Just two blocks down the street, Cowboy Fran’s was a bustle of activity as Imogene weaved in and out of several racks of the latest arrivals, deciding whether anything else needed to be added to the display she had just finished in her front window.

  Imogene prided herself on running a shop that not only carried the highest quality clothing and accessories but also had antiques and handmade furniture for sale. Just about everything in the shop was available for purchase, which made Imogene’s place stand out from the competing businesses on her street. One day, a customer could leave with a hand-woven scarf from Morocco, and the next a van could pull up outside to cart away a chair Imogene herself had fought to acquire at an antique auction earlier in the month. The variety of her goods drew in a diverse crowd of people that made her proud to own the place.

  She stood outside in the cold winter afternoon, rubbing her arms frantically to keep the blood flowing, and appraised her handiwork. With a big smile, she bounced back inside in search of her coat and scarf.

  “Amanda?” Imogene called out to her only employee. The young woman, somewhere in her early twenties, perked up at the mention of her name and pushed a magenta tendril of hair behind her over-pierced ear. “I’m running to pick up lunch, so I need you to watch the floor. I’m taking my car, so I shouldn’t be long.”

  “You got it, boss,” Amanda said as she went back to assisting her customer.

  After securing each button and wrapping a blue scarf tightly around her exposed neck, Imogene walked out onto the busy streets of Hoboken, weaving between pedestrians and patches of ice. Although it normally bothered her that she owned a business and lived on the street but was never able to find a parking spot on the same block, today she welcomed the short walk. The cold air lifted some of the sadness that still lingered, invigorating her for another busy workday.