by M. Ullrich
They got right to it as they finished their lunch and indulged in desserts and blended coffee beverages. Catherine went over the numbers she had worked on and proposed ways Imogene could invest and make her money grow. She had a wide array of options to choose from, several foolproof plans, and many more suggestions to make along the way. Catherine was satisfied with her work and the attention Imogene gave her every idea. She sat quietly and took in the information as she sipped her drink or twirled a lock of hair around her slender fingertip, an action that caused Catherine to stutter more than once. She wondered just how silky each glittery strand really was.
“I honestly think your best options are stocks and real estate. There’s several more products out there, but after looking over your records and getting to know you, I’d say those suit your situation.”
“I’m against the stocks idea,” Imogene decided matter-of-factly. “Whatever my grandfather invested in years ago is enough for me.”
“What about real estate? Do you own a home now?”
“No. I live above the store in a small apartment.”
“You could buy a house with a nice piece of property. It’ll be a smart investment and one you can enjoy for years to come,” Catherine pointed out.
“I love where I live. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else or having a whole house just for myself.” Imogene’s tone was soft, but almost sad.
“I’ll see if I can come up with other options.” Catherine turned slightly in her chair to face Imogene more fully. “Keep an open mind about looking at some houses. The money you have now can promise you a comfortable future, but I’m also looking to make sure you’ll have that for your future family.” Imogene’s bark of laughter caught Catherine off guard.
“I don’t even have a partner yet. It’s a little too early to be thinking about a family.”
Catherine thought she was genuinely amused by such an idea. But her use of the term “partner” was a pleasant surprise. She felt the need for clarification. “Partner?”
“Well, ideally we’d be married, but I guess I’d buy a house with a girlfriend if I knew marriage was in the near future.” When Catherine shifted slightly, Imogene asked, “Did I make you uncomfortable? I just assumed—”
“Assumed what?”
“I know that Dennis and Alice are huge LGBT supporters since his sister is part of the community. That’s how they met Chris and Sophia, actually. At a benefit.” Imogene visibly swallowed. “I figured you’d be as supportive since you’re so close to the family.”
“You’re right, I am.” Catherine took a deep breath and relaxed. “You just surprised me, that’s all.” Catherine was surprised, but not at Imogene’s assumption. She was surprised by the possibilities this new information presented. Thoughts she was ready to so quickly discard in the name of an overactive imagination were now real possibilities. That petrified her.
“What about you?” Imogene asked. “Investing in a house for a future family?”
“Condominium and no kids in the near future. I, too, am partner-less.” She scrambled quickly to add, “But of the male variety. Men are easier, they fit my lifestyle better,” Catherine explained lamely. My heart breaks too easily when women are involved, she thought. This is for the best. For a moment she was sure she noticed a flash of disappointment in Imogene’s blue eyes. Catherine wanted to take the words back, but it was too late. They finished their drinks in silence.
Their lunch came to a close when the waiter brought the check, and Imogene immediately snatched it, making good on her earlier promise. After she paid the bill and left a substantial tip, both women bundled up and walked out to the parking lot. Catherine carried the box of files to Imogene’s Mazda and packed it into her trunk. They stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes just looking at one another. The sun was shining on that brisk afternoon, making Imogene’s hair sparkle with highlights of gold and copper. Her blue eyes seemed a shade lighter and held the kind of smile only people who appreciated life could wear. Catherine’s puffy down jacket kept her warm, but she still shivered when she looked deep into Imogene’s gaze. Catherine was powerless once they pinned her. Dark brown curls covered her stoic face as the wind whipped up the busy street. They wished each other simple good-byes before parting. Imogene went to her driver’s side and Catherine jogged across the street to her silver luxury car.
Once her car door was shut, Imogene let out a heavy breath. What was that? She picked up her phone and typed out a quick message and sent it to Sophia before turning the key in the ignition.
She’s straight.
Chapter Nine
Catherine was completely distracted on Monday morning, a rare occurrence for her. She stared out her large windows with a blank expression as thoughts of Imogene and Cowboy Fran’s swirled through her mind, thoughts that had kept her mind scattered since she awoke at sunrise. It took two extra minutes on the treadmill to complete a mile, six attempts to button her shirt correctly, and two cups of coffee because she lost count of how many spoonfuls of sugar she had put in the first cup. For the first time in Catherine’s adult life, she felt disordered, and she blamed it on her surprise at how well Imogene ran her business, not Imogene herself. Catherine was ashamed to admit she had assumed the eccentric redhead knew very little about business management, but after reviewing the store’s file, Catherine was not only impressed but intrigued. She’d been intrigued by Imogene’s brains as well as her spirit, and if Catherine had allowed herself to delve a little deeper into her feelings, she would have admitted that Imogene’s beauty was on the list of things she liked about her also.
“Ms. Carter?”
Catherine started at the sound of Vivian’s voice. “Yes, Vivian?” she answered after catching her breath.
“There’s an Imogene Harris on line two for you. Would you like to take it or should I take a message?”
“I’ll take it.” A slight panic washed over her before it was tamped down by embarrassment. Imogene was her client and surely she had no idea she occupied a few too many of Catherine’s uncharacteristic daydreams lately. She picked up her phone before the wait became prolonged.
“Hello, Imogene.”
“Catherine!” The volume and excitement of the voice was unexpected. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No, of course not. What can I do for you?” Catherine relaxed into her chair and tried to imagine what Imogene was wearing and if she was smiling as broadly as her voice conveyed.
“Nothing. I have something to tell you, and it can’t wait.”
Catherine’s mouth was doing its best impression of the Sahara. Anxiety always had that effect on her.
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Nothing bad unless you’re a mouse, then maybe.”
“I’m not following.”
“I was going through the boxes of receipts you returned. I thought maybe it was time to invest in a big-girl organization technique.”
“Boot boxes instead of shoe?”
“Ha-ha. Very funny. I got another filing cabinet. Anyway, I found another box of miscellaneous papers and dumped them out on the floor. Everything was dated 2005 and earlier, and my guess is that the rodent corpse I found in there was just as old.”
“No way!”
“Way. So I was just calling to let you know that you chose the wrong boxes and were not an instant winner this time, but please try again.” Imogene’s deep chuckle vibrated through the phone and made its way deep into Catherine’s chest.
“I’ll definitely choose more wisely next time.”
“Well, I guess I should let you get back to work. I know I’d be upset if I were to find out that my financial advisor was taking personal calls during work hours. Oh wait…”
“Good-bye, Imogene.”
“Buh-bye.” The singsong tone Imogene used for her parting words played on repeat in Catherine’s mind after she hung up.
The phone call did very little to calm the storm that had started to build that morning.
Catherine’s mind weaved between numbers and Imogene’s bright smile, her curvy hips, or the way her bright blue eyes sparkled when she laughed and her freckled nose scrunched up when she wasn’t pleased with something. Imogene Harris was much more captivating than Catherine had expected, and even more interesting than the pile of work that lay neglected on her desk. Vivian startled her for the second time that morning. “Catherine, dear, don’t forget about the eleven o’clock interview.” Catherine looked at her standing in the doorway, smiling gently. How long has she been there and how long have I been sitting like this? She looked down and noticed she still had her hand on the receiver.
“Thank you, Vivian. Could you bring me a coffee? Mine was dreadful this morning.” Catherine checked the clock and noted she had ten minutes before she was expected in the main conference room down the hall. She wasn’t a partner in the firm, but Marcati and Stevens valued her opinion when it came to new hires and let her have a say in decisions about the staff. She slipped her feet into the worn loafers beneath her desk. It was still icy outside so Catherine’s shoe choice was more practical, not wanting to risk a broken neck or a ruined pair of Guccis.
Nine minutes later, Catherine sat beside the head of a long conference table with a steaming mug of perfectly sweetened coffee in front of her. An elderly yet spry man sat beside her. Walter Adamson was the head of the entire firm, but his name wasn’t on the building because he preferred to remain behind the scenes as much as possible. Catherine admired the man, not only for what he had accomplished in the world of business finance, but also for his life and legacy. His employees looked up to him, many liked him on a much more personal level, his family adored him, and Catherine did as well.
He had taken her under his wing during her senior year internship and taught her everything he knew, impeccably grooming her to be the company’s leader once his own time was up. That had earned Catherine her fair share of dirty looks in the office, but she hadn’t given a shit what they thought. His support meant the world to Catherine after the way her father had turned his back on her for her career choice. Even now that she’d won her father’s recognition after years of fighting for it, Walter Adamson was more of a father figure to Catherine than he was.
They spoke briefly about Catherine’s client list, and she found herself wanting to discuss Imogene with Walter. His dark eyes willed her to open up in a way she never experienced, but she kept the focus on the matter at hand instead.
“Are you ready? These things are dreadfully boring,” he whispered in a gravelly, aged voice.
“If you’d like to take a nap, I’ll take notes for both of us.” They shared a laugh and Catherine smiled warmly. He wore the same black pinstripe suit and red tie combo every day he was at the office, which became fewer and fewer at his old age. Catherine always found comfort in the scent of his Old Spice and how he usually missed a small patch of gray hairs on his chin.
She waited patiently for the rest of the team and the potential hire to arrive, scribbling notes on possible alternatives and Realtors for Imogene. A minute later the door swung open and Anthony Marcati and Phillip Stevens entered. They always arrived together to meetings and interviews, both impeccably dressed in three-piece suits. Mr. Marcati was often drawn to the darker suits, with colorful ties that had a tendency to be obnoxiously bright. Mr. Stevens, on the other hand, enjoyed his browns and earth tones. Summer found him in khaki suits with oddly matched mint green shirts and darker ties. Whenever she saw him, Catherine often found herself thinking all his money couldn’t purchase good fashion sense. She smoothed down her blouse and the front of her pressed black trousers at the thought.
“Good morning,” both men said in unison.
“Do they have to do everything together?” Walter whispered into Catherine’s ear and she barely suppressed her laughter.
“Good morning, Phillip, Anthony.” With a nod of her head, all morning pleasantries were completed.
“We have one interview this morning for the entry-level position that just opened. Let’s get it over with as quickly as possible, I’m starving,” Anthony said, his rounded belly shifting beneath his large suit jacket as he laughed at his own words. He had a kind face, aged and tanned from many family vacations to his home in Florida.
“Anything we should know about before we get started?” Walter said.
“Yale business graduate, just moved here from Chicago and we were his first choice in the city,” Phillip answered and then added, “Good to know we still have an impressive reputation.”
“Bring him in,” Walter said. Phillip left the conference room and returned a moment later with a younger man by his side.
“Everyone, this is Richard Thorton. Have a seat, Richard.”
Richard had a matured yet youthful look and was thirty-six, according to his résumé. His jaw was strong and chiseled, his black hair brushed back from his forehead and sculpted into a classic style. His olive complexion highlighted his long eyelashes and dark eyes. Richard’s good looks didn’t capture Catherine’s attention at first, but the way he dressed certainly did. He wore a tailored black suit with a starched white shirt that accentuated his tall, muscular frame. What caught Catherine’s eye was the horrifically mismatched navy blue tie Richard paired with such a classic wardrobe combination. The navy and the black looked as if they wanted to match, which left Catherine wondering whether this man had dressed in the dark that morning. Suddenly, a thought hit her. All of her attention was drawn to his navy blue tie. “Blue will have a great impact on you.” Sophia’s words echoed in her mind. Could this be him? The lack of a ring on his left hand gave her hope.
The interview went quickly and well. Richard Thorton got rave reviews from everyone around the table, including Catherine. He had the kind of experience and knowledge Marcati and Stevens valued. On a more personal front, they learned the Chicago native was used to brutal winters, and the worst New York had seen was like a walk in the park for him. The meeting finished with Walter giving his secretary the go-ahead to contact Richard Thorton later that afternoon with the good news that he’d be the latest addition to their already stellar team.
❖
After a brutal morning spent dealing with plans for a private bridal shower reading, Sophia Glass sat in her office and traced circles on her throbbing temples. A light knock on the door drew her from her slight meditation. “Come in.”
“I know you had a rough morning,” Gladys started timidly, “but are you willing to take a walk-in?”
Sophia rolled her dark blue eyes and released a sigh. “How does the rest of my afternoon look?”
“Wide open.”
“Fine. Send them back.” Gladys retreated quickly, and Sophia scolded herself for not being kinder to her receptionist. Gladys was kind and dedicated, and she made a note to tell her as much by the end of the day.
“Hello again,” Catherine said in a shaky voice from the threshold, and Sophia jumped at its familiarity.
“Catherine!” Sophia’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Please have a seat.” This was the last person she expected to see in her office again. She remembered how much time Catherine and Imogene had been spending together and wondered if that had something to do with her spontaneous visit.
“I need to know more,” Catherine said, sitting down across from Sophia. “You said something about the color blue. Is it directly connected to me finding happiness by my thirtieth birthday? Will he be wearing blue? Is it an article of clothing? I need to know.”
“Catherine, it’s hard for me to answer specific questions like that. Any psychic who says they can is most likely a fraud who is after your money. I can tell you a hundred small things like stay away from making any major decision in August and your lucky number is eleven—”
“Will eleven o’clock be significant?” Catherine interrupted.
“But,” Sophia emphasized, “I can’t see what’s not there. It’s impossible.” Sophia smiled softly as she tossed Catherine’s own words back at her. �
��All I can tell you is what I saw the last time we were together, and if there’s anything more now.”
Catherine let out a heavy breath of disappointment. “Just tell me what you saw,” she said curtly.
“When I close my eyes, I see you surrounded by blue, everywhere.” She purposely left out the mention of blue eyes she saw so clearly, feeling the need to protect her best friend. “All I know is that it will lead you on the path to happiness.”
“Thanks.” Catherine started to rise but fell back into the cushioned chair when Sophia continued.
“I also see how sad you are, how lonely you feel.” Catherine nervously fiddled with her jacket’s button. “I also see a time you were happy, genuinely happy, in the arms of a beautiful woman.” Catherine’s head snapped up so quickly that her curls fell across her face. “Tell me about the woman in room two-fourteen.”
Catherine remained quiet. The silence filled with a thick tension as the two women sat and stared. Sophia wouldn’t allow Catherine to fall back on avoidance. She’d have to be patient, but she would wait. She noticed Catherine swallow hard before clearing her throat.
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“You’ll feel better—”
“It’s off-limits!” Catherine said decisively.
After a moment of discomfort, Sophia took a risk and spoke again. “I can’t control what I see.”
“But you can control what you talk about.” This time Catherine stood and remained standing while she shrugged on her coat. “And don’t mention that to anyone else.”
“Anything we speak of here is private.” Sophia looked offended. Whoever Sophia saw in Catherine’s past, it was someone who was and always would be a vital piece of who Catherine Carter was and why she walked cautiously through life beneath a cloud of mournfulness.
“Good.” With that final curt word, Catherine spun and made her way from the building, leaving Sophia in a stupor.
