Purls and Poison

by Anne Canadeo

  “Aren’t there rules? Professional guidelines or something? Is she really allowed to do that?” Lucy sounded indignant—as much as her good nature would allow. Suzanne felt grateful for her loyalty.

  “If the listing had been sitting on the shelf with no action for weeks, and Liza brought in a client and made the sale, I wouldn’t have minded at all. Well, maybe a little,” she admitted. “But we would have just split the commission. And something is better than nothing in my book. That scenario is way different than client-napping Juanita and Bob, and then brainwashing them. Turning them totally against me.”

  “A lot different, when you put it that way,” Maggie agreed.

  “Exactly. Why should I give her a penny?” Suzanne glanced around at her friends, as she closed her case.

  “Your boss has to admit her move was totally out of line,” Lucy said.

  “Most would. But this has happened before. Harry always takes Liza’s side. And gives her a big slice of the pie, whether she deserves it or not. She could set the place on fire and he’d find some way to overlook it. She’s his biggest earner, and if that wasn’t enough . . . well, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but they had a pretty serious fling a while ago.”

  “That explains it,” Lucy said. “And makes defending yourself even harder.”

  “Is it still going on, this fling situation?” Maggie asked.

  “Nope. Finito. Ended on a bad note, I might add. Liza even dumped her husband for Harry. Though I hear the marriage was already shaky. Maybe the affair just tipped it over the edge? People said her ex has a gambling problem and she got tired of bailing him out. No kids, so no worries in that department. Though I also heard the divorce has been pretty messy even without children in the mix.”

  Suzanne took a breath before delivering the punch line to her captive audience. “Anyway, once Liza was free, everyone expected Harry to leave his wife. But he didn’t. So Liza broke it off.” She thought back for a moment. “That was about two years ago. Maybe a little more. If you ask me, Harry still hasn’t gotten over it.”

  Dana looked up and slipped off her reading glasses. “Wait, I think I heard something about Harry Prentiss a while back. Jack used to golf with some guys who know him. I think he heard Harry put all his property and his business in his wife’s name, to protect his assets. When he had this affair, he was stuck. He couldn’t leave his wife without losing everything.”

  “So I guess men like to gossip as much as women do, though they’d never admit it,” Maggie noted.

  “And the country club foursomes shared the story as a cautionary tale.” Lucy delivered the words with a humorous note.

  Suzanne laughed. “Isn’t it every businessman’s worst nightmare? You can’t leave your wife for the other woman without abandoning your entire fortune? But Harry’s wife, Claire, doesn’t seem like the grabby type you’d imagine in that domestic drama. She’s an academic, with a PhD from an Ivy League school. The complete opposite of Harry.”

  “Does she teach at a college or something?” Phoebe took a few dirty dishes off the table.

  “Nope. She runs her own school, a posh academy for baby geniuses. The ‘gifted and talented’ is how she spins it. My guess is that she’s so out of touch in her ivory tower, she had no idea Harry was playing around,” Suzanne said with a wave of her fork.

  Dana had begun knitting, stitching in her calm, steady way. Like a plough horse, Suzanne liked to say. “Reasonable and bookish or not, with a good lawyer on her side, she probably would have held her ground and fought for her due.”

  “It happens more than you think,” Maggie remarked. “Couples trapped in unhappy relationships because their finances are tangled up. Especially if there’s a business.”

  “It must have been hard for Liza to work in the office after that. I mean, since everyone knew her private business.” Phoebe had gone into the kitchen a moment and returned with a tray of peanut butter cookies, which she set in the middle of the table. They looked and smelled home baked. “Personally, I would have slunk away and started over somewhere new.”

  Phoebe selected a cookie and took a big bite. With her broomstick figure, she could eat the whole plate. Suzanne eyed the sweet treat but didn’t reach for one. Even though the cookies were definitely calling her name.

  “We’re talking about a person with ice water in her veins and a calculator for a heart. But she did leave town. Not long enough for me, I might add. She moved up to Maine, to be near her sister. Was I ever relieved. Don’t you guys remember?”

  “I do. You were positively euphoric,” Maggie recalled.

  “Fool’s paradise, it turned out to be. She was gone about two years. Long enough to take up knitting and be better than me . . . which doesn’t take much, I admit.” Suzanne sighed and waited for someone to deny her self-inflicted slight.

  Lucy took the bait. “Come on, Suzanne. You’re not so bad. You just need to settle down and finish your projects. You’re not supposed to triple task when you’re knitting. I think you forget.”

  “That’s true. I really have to work on my needle attention span.” Suzanne knew that she grew tired of projects too easily. A new pattern caught her eye. Or a brightly colored skein, full of possibilities, begged to be purchased. Knitting was a calming pastime for most. Even suggested as a means to make one more mindful, like meditation. But Suzanne felt little of that benefit and often thought she was too emotional to ever be a really good knitter. Her stitches got too loose, or too tight, depending on what she was talking about. Or even thinking about. Tonight for example, she was so worked up she knew she’d make a complete mess of things.

  “Why did Liza come back to town after all that time? Do you know?” Dana asked.

  “Her mother had a stroke a few months ago. Liza and her sister wanted to be close by, to take care of her. Mrs. Devereaux had moved into an assisted living community right before she got sick, but never sold her house. A grand, old place on Hickory Hill. Liza and her sister have been living there. I guess they plan to sell it at some point.”

  “I know that neighborhood. Lots of tall trees. Very pretty,” Dana said.

  Suzanne fished around her knitting tote and pulled out her project. “I never met her sister. Liza is an expert at keeping her private life and business life totally separate. Except for that slip with Harry, of course.”

  “She compartmentalizes well,” Dana remarked, adding an official tag to Suzanne’s observation.

  Suzanne rolled her eyes. “If you need to stick a ten-syllable word on it, that’s what I mean. I guess.”

  Lucy had taken out her knitting, too. She was making a sweater for her husband, Matt. They were newlyweds, married in July, not quite three months ago. Suzanne predicted he’d love her hand-knit creation and wear it proudly. No matter how it turned out. Not so once you were married awhile, she’d learned. She recalled her husband Kevin’s bemused expression last Christmas as he unwrapped the vest she’d made him. She couldn’t blame him; even she knew the garment was more a demonstration of love than skill. And she’d given him extra credit for not laughing.

  “You hear a lot on the office grapevine, don’t you?” Lucy said.

  “I’d feel guilty about gossiping, but I’m sure everyone talks about me when I’m not around. It works out evenly.”

  “So she came back to Prestige Properties? Interesting,” Maggie said. “If she’s such a good salesperson, you’d think she’d have lots of other opportunities.”

  Suzanne had wondered about that, too, but did see the logic in Liza’s choice. “She probably could have had her pick. But why work your way up someplace new? She was, and still is, Queen of the Dump. She just went into exile a while.”

  Lucy was smoothing the stitches on one of her needles but paused to meet her gaze and smile.

  “The bottom line is, Liza Devereaux still has Harry wrapped around her little finger. That’s why I know he’ll never take my side. And why I’m terrified of talking to them tomorrow. I saw her stop him in
the hallway after the staff meeting let out. She asked if they could meet privately before he left for the day. To convince him to fire me, I’m sure. But he was late for a big event, a fund-raiser for his wife’s school, I think. She’d just dropped of his tuxedo and was waiting for him.” She gazed at her friends, her tone low and nervous.“I heard him tell Liza to come in extra early and they would talk before they met with me.”

  Phoebe looked alarmed. She took another cookie. “You really think she can persuade him to fire you? She’s the one who caused all the trouble.”

  “I know that . . . and you all know that. But I’m the only one in the office who stands up to her. The rest of the sales staff are a bunch of shivering sheep—no insult to present company, of course.”

  “None taken,” Maggie assured her.

  “I know that the rest of the sales team, Anita and Lyle, have some grievances with her. But I’m the only one fishing in the same pond and competing with her for the big sales. Harry doesn’t like confrontation. It makes him nervous. He wants everyone to play nice. Or at least, to pretend that we like each other.”

  “So, what will you say tomorrow at the meeting? Maybe you should practice with us,” Dana suggested.

  Suzanne finally broke down and took a cookie. She thoughtfully munched on a bite. “Not a bad idea. A little rehearsal might help.” She often rehearsed sales pitches in the bathroom mirror. It did help. “Here’s how it will go. Harry will want us to share the commission. But I think I should get the whole thing. It’s the principle of the matter. I have to stand my ground and show him I’m just as valuable as she is. And I want to show Liza that I won’t be silent while she picks my pocket.”

  “Sounds more like you were mugged,” Phoebe murmured.

  Dana met Suzanne’s gaze and nodded. “It was rough. But are you really willing to lose your job to prove a point? You just said there’s a strong possibility that could happen.”

  “Yeah, it could . . . and I really can’t afford to get fired right now. Kevin’s business is doing all right, but it’s always feast or famine. And the jobs are never completed quite as quickly as he expects,” she admitted. “I could find a sales spot at another realtor, I guess.”

  “But there’s a Liza in every office,” Lucy pointed out. “Trust me on this.”

  While living in Boston, Lucy had paid her dues in advertising agencies and publishing houses. But ever since moving to Plum Harbor, she ran her own business as a graphic artist and worked at home. An option Suzanne would have adored, but one that wasn’t open to her right now.

  Maggie shook her head, her brown and gray curls bouncing. “I know you won’t like this, but my advice is to smooth things over with Liza, before the meeting with your boss.”

  “Easy for you to say. I wouldn’t know how to start. If I suddenly go all nice and smarmy, she’d see through me in a minute.”

  “Just be honest,” Lucy advised. “You don’t have to pretend that what she did was okay. But you might admit that your reaction was not ideal, and now you’re afraid of losing your job. Tell her you can’t afford for that to happen. Your family relies on your income. Promise that you’ll try to do better in the future and work things out with her.”

  “And it won’t hurt to get a little smarmy. Eat some humble pie? It’s very low in carbs, I hear,” Maggie teased her.

  Dana nodded in agreement. “Turn on that legendary Cavanaugh charm. Get those dimples back in gear. Before she has time to persuade Harry to give you the boot. Doesn’t that make the most sense?”

  Suzanne sighed and took another cookie. “Perfect sense. I’m just so boiling mad every time I think of her. I can’t see straight, no less think sensibly.”

  “To be expected. Don’t decide now. Sleep on it. Things will look clearer in the morning,” Dana advised.

  Suzanne nearly laughed. “That’s what I always tell my kids when they get worked up about something.”

  “It’s sound advice. And we all need to be reminded from time to time. Even a mother of three.” Maggie had risen from her seat and was gathering supplies that were set out on the sideboard. She brought two baskets of rolled yarn to the table and placed one on each end.

  “For what it’s worth, I think Liza Devereaux does have a reasonable and even a sympathetic side. I’m sure you can work something out with her. But I know you don’t want to hear that either,” Maggie quickly added as Suzanne made a face.

  “You’re right. I don’t. She is sharp, I’ll grant her that. She can quickly reason out what’s best for Liza. But I’ve never seen a drop of sympathy. Not when it comes to business.”

  Maggie shrugged. Suzanne could tell she didn’t agree. “She obviously cuts some corners in the office. But I’ve dealt with her many times in the shop and she’s not the worst person in the world. She’s always been very pleasant to me and other customers.”

  Suzanne couldn’t hear another word. “Stop right there, Mag. I know she takes lessons here and buys a lot of yarn. I know it’s your livelihood and I’ve never made a thing about it. But it pains me to hear you take her side in this.”

  Maggie looked surprised and immediately apologetic. “I am not taking her side. Not one bit. I’m just pointing out that she’s not a monster. She has some good in her, too.”

  “Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Sooner or later, Ms. Liza Hyde will show up for a knitting lesson. Then you’ll see that what I said is true. Believe me.” Suzanne didn’t mean to pout but could feel the corners of her mouth turn down.

  “I consider myself warned. In the meantime, I may as well tell you that Liza asked me to do a favor for her . . . and I agreed.”

  Suzanne had only been half listening, silently fuming at Maggie’s sympathies with her sworn enemy. Now she sat up sharply.

  “What sort of a favor? A big favor?”

  “Not so big. I didn’t think so. As you know, Liza’s mother moved into an assisted living community recently, and she can’t seem to make many friends. Ruth is a lifelong knitter and Liza asked if I could do a little class or demonstration at the community center. She thinks it will help her mother meet some like-minded neighbors.”

  “Good idea. I would have suggested something like that myself,” Dana said.

  “I thought it was a good idea, too,” Maggie said. “She seems so concerned about her mother adjusting to the move, and her challenges after the stroke. It was hard for me to refuse. They clearly have a close, caring relationship. I think that speaks well of a person. Don’t you?” Maggie’s voice was quiet as she posed the question.

  Suzanne’s eyes narrowed. “Al Capone loved his mother. Did that make him a nice guy?”

  “Oh, Suzanne . . . you know what I mean. No need to be so dramatic. I’d hardly compare the two,” Maggie insisted.

  “I think it’s a very apt comparison. And I’m surprised you got so involved . . . knowing how much I dislike her.”

  Maggie took a stack of printed pages from a folder and placed them in the middle of the table, next to a basket. “You’re being petty now. That’s not like you. It didn’t feel right to refuse her. Besides, I like giving classes and helping people learn to knit, even for free.”

  “She’s not even paying you? Figures . . . sweet-talking little worm. I can’t believe you fell for that.”

  “I didn’t fall for anything. You’re a dear friend and I love you immensely. But I don’t see any reason to be rude because you don’t get along with Liza at work.” Maggie paused and held Suzanne’s gaze. “Life isn’t a middle-school playground.”

  “Oh yes, it is. Very much so,” Suzanne insisted. “It’s a jungle out there.”

  She stopped herself. She could see Maggie was losing her patience and she didn’t want to say anything she’d regret. She had done enough of that for one day. More than enough.

  She did let her emotions get the best of her at times. And override the filter on her mouth—that was for sure.

  “What will you do tomorrow, Suzanne? You still didn’t say.” Lucy yanke
d out a strand of yarn. She sounded concerned.

  “I’ll follow your advice and try to make nice with Ms. Hyde.” She glanced at Maggie, who looked pleased to hear her decision. “I’ll head her off at the pass before she meets with Harry. That makes the most sense. Though my heart isn’t in it. Why does just the thought of eating humble pie give me heartburn? I usually love pie.”

  Maggie laughed and patted her shoulder as she passed behind her chair. Suzanne felt relieved. Their moment of tension was dispelled. “Everyone hates that dish, dear. Even dressed up with whipped cream and a cherry on top. But once in a while . . .” Maggie let her voice trail off.

  “There’s no avoiding it,” Lucy finished. She caught Suzanne’s gaze. Suzanne knew when she was beat, and the advice of her friends made good sense. As always.

  “I doubt that eating a pile of humble pies will work. But for the sake of my family, I’ll try.”

  “You’re doing the right thing. Maybe she’ll be so shocked and caught off guard, she’ll hand the whole deal back to you.” Maggie leaned over and placed several sets of super slim needles on the table.

  Suzanne was curious to see what new project their fearless stitching leader would introduce. Her pals had been so patient with her problem, but even she needed distraction now.

  “That would be a miracle . . . but stranger things have happened.” Suzanne reached for a pale yellow ball of yarn, so soft to the touch, she was tempted to stroke it against her cheek. “Enough about my office intrigue. You’ve all been very patient and given me some great advice. Time to stop kvetching and start knitting.”

  “I second the motion.” Maggie had taken her seat again, and slipped out a stack of printed pages from her own knitting bag. “With the holidays coming, I thought it would be nice to knit some items we can donate to a charity. Like knitting warm clothes for babies and toddlers, and donate them to a group that will get the clothing to mothers and children in need.”