Chapter Seven
Carmala finished her yoga class on a Wednesday night and walked the twenty blocks home. It was freezing outside, and she couldn’t shake the chill, despite her layers of clothing. As soon as she entered the hallway to her apartment, the welcome scent of Guido’s Italian cooking greeted her. She let herself in, pulled off her heavy coat, gloves, and scarf and took another deep breath. “It’s so nice to come home to dinner waiting.”
Guido peered up from her tiny kitchen and smiled. “It will be even nicer once we get the new place.”
She didn’t mind the casual way he mentioned “we” when referring to her new apartment. If things continued to go this well with Guido, she might ask him to move in with her. “First we need to find it.”
“Did you make the appointment with the Realtor?”
“I did, for Saturday, and was hoping you’d go along with me.”
“Of course I will.” He stirred the pot of sauce and raised the heat under the pot of water for the pasta.
“She said she’ll have at least ten places for us to see.”
“Sounds like a full day.” He pulled out the spaghetti from the box and jutted his head toward the living room. “Go ahead. You get comfortable. The pasta will be ready in about ten minutes.”
****
Guido watched Carmala carry her wine toward the couch. As he whipped up one of his Italian specialties for dinner, he thought about everything he did to please Carmala. It wasn’t easy to impress her; she lived in a world that he didn’t fit into. He did okay as a master electrician. He made great money at Keyes Electric, and his recent raise put him in line for the next level up, which was master foreman. If he got that promotion, he’d likely be assigned to the rebuild of the World Trade Center site, and that had been a dream of his for a long time.
But even that promotion was a far cry from the salaries and prestige of the Wall Streeters Carmala associated with. And he had no aspirations of being one of them. He was happy with what he did. Really, he was. As long as his knees held up. He was still in his twenties, so he had a lot of juice left.
Yet, you just never knew. The other day—he dared not tell Carmala—he hurt himself doing dead lifts at the gym. During his lunch break, he’d often get an extra workout with heavy weights at the men’s gym. He wanted to keep a superior physique. It was his only advantage over the stuffed shirts who surrounded Carmala on a daily basis. Anyway, he’d staked too much weight and strained his knees. The cortisone shot the doc gave him yesterday barely cut the pain. He’d live through it. Pain made more of a man out of him.
Sometimes the pressure of being the strong, masculine, dependable protector was too much. First, for his mother. Now, Carmala. Mostly, he didn’t mind. But some days, like today, he wished someone would show him a little caring.
The guys at work were beefy, no-nonsense tough guys. Same with the guys at the gym. And he could absolutely not let Carmala or Mama know about his needs. He shouldn’t even have emotional needs. Really. He was a man, the man of his house for all the years he could remember.
Maybe things would’ve been different if he hadn’t lost his father when he was a boy. As he glanced at the bottle of Italian wine, Guido drifted to memories of his past. As a young boy, Guido lived on the family grape farm of Cortollo Acres in Italy. The memory that stood out most in his mind was of the day his father told him he planned to send him and his mother to the New Country.
“Son, you going to be the big man. The man of the house. No time for toys. No games.” Papa had gathered Guido’s action figures and thrown them in the trash.
Guido had begun to cry. The slap had come fast and stung his cheek.
“No son of mine is gonna cry like a sissy. Stop it or you’ll get the belt!”
Guido sniffled but wiped his forearm across his eyes to dry his tears. “But, Papa, I can be the man and still play.”
Papa ruffled his hair. “Come on now. Stiff upper lip.” He led him to the rickety wooden kitchen table in their poorly furnished farm home. “Your papa has to ask you to grow up quickly. You’re going to take on some important responsibilities. Are you ready to be a big boy and listen to me?”
“Yeah, Papa, I can do whatever you ask of me.”
“Good. I’m gonna send you and Mama to America for a better life. I’ll set you up in a nice home in an Italian neighborhood. Once I get enough money together, I’ll meet you there.”
“What about Grandma and Grandpa?”
“You don’t worry about them. We’re going to sell the farm, and they’ll be joining us. We’ll be one happy family, living in the Land of Opportunity.”
“I like it here.” Guido whimpered, instantly fearing another slap.
Papa raised his voice. “You need to stop acting like a sissy and hanging onto Grandma’s skirts. There’s nothing here. No work, no good schooling for you. You and Mama will do fine, and I’ll be there before you know it.”
“How soon?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Now I want you to pack your things into your backpack, only take what you can carry,” Papa had said.
The pasta threatened to boil over, snapping Guido back to the present.
He tasted a strand of spaghetti. Still not quite there. He continued to stir the pasta, and his mind once again drifted back to the past.
He and his mother had lived in the States without his father for over a year. Pa sent money every so often but sent no word on when he’d be coming over to join them.
Mama was happy in her new home in Brooklyn. She had the modern conveniences of a dishwasher, shower, and bathtub, and a private sitting room where she could do her crocheting.
Guido had many friends in school. The other students looked up to him since he was so serious and mature. He supposed all the responsibility he took on gave him an air of authority.
Papa finally came to the States soon after Guido’s ninth birthday. Guido was glad to be a family again. Only, Papa got an important job with the union, and he was never home. Mama didn’t seem to care. She had the company of her sister, his Aunt Clara, and the two of them were busy shopping, cooking, and crocheting.
One day Papa hadn’t come home at all. There’d been an accident at the construction site. Months later, a check came in the mail for over a hundred thousand dollars. Mama said it was from Papa’s life insurance. They moved into a bigger house. Guido continued to excel in school, getting easy straight As and being elected class president. But Mama told Guido he had to be the breadwinner and go to work to bring in money for the family. Grandpa had a friend who would take him on as an apprentice. After completing the eighth grade, Guido had quit school and gone to work.
Carmala hopped on the barstool, jarring him out of his memories. He gave her a strand of spaghetti to taste, and she assured him it was just right. He drained the pasta while she set the table.
Yep, the years of working hard had taken a toll on Guido. All he wanted to do was settle down and play house with Carmala. Still, if he’d learned one thing from his past, it was that you can never take anything or anyone for granted. With Carmala, he had to keep a watchful eye over her. She was too naïve for her own good. She didn’t understand the men she worked with. And her hours were unpredictable. How could he rest easy, knowing that she took public transportation and walked the streets at all hours of the night? Once they got the new apartment—well, once she got the apartment. He had the answer. If he moved in with her, he could keep an eye on her.
But he’d have to be patient and wait for the right time to bring up the subject.
****
Carmala and Guido arrived at a coffee shop downtown to meet the Realtor. Carmala recognized Tina Brown from the picture on her business card and waved at her to come to their table.
Tina removed her coat and sat down with a flourish, clinking her bangle bracelets and adjusting her scarf and blouse. “I’ve got a busy day scheduled for you guys. There are several places for us to visit downtown about ten blocks nort
h of your current apartment in SoHo. I have something in Greenwich and a darling apartment south in Battery Park.”
She took out a notepad and a clipboard stuffed with property flyers. “Tell me a little about yourselves. Engaged, married?”
“Neither. But we’re serious and spend most of our time at my place,” Carmala said.
“Okay, so you’ll be the only one on the lease?” Tina asked Carmala.
“Yes.” She smiled at Guido. “For now.”
The rent for the apartments would be double Carmala’s current rent, but Tina said if she wanted Manhattan real estate, she’d have to pay the price. Besides, Carmala was moving up in the world. With Synergy kicking in the first six months of rent, she’d have plenty of time to get going.
“You must be one talented young lady for Synergy Plus to invest so much to woo you from Banter. We’ve had some Banter clients. Quite a sober bunch.” Tina studied Carmala and Guido for a moment. “But you seem different.”
By the end of the day, Carmala had viewed numerous places, and although thoroughly exhausted, she wasn’t satisfied. The loft apartment was last.
As they toured the first floor, Tina strolled through the space. “Notice the area near the windows. You could easily place some screening a few feet from the windows to create the appearance of a separate room. You might even add a desk and bookshelves there and make a home office. The living room is big enough, so you won’t lose any space. You’ll still have room for an entertainment system.”
“It’s five thousand a month, though. That’s a big jump for me.” Carmala mentally cringed at the thought.
“Babe, I think it’s manageable. We’ll eventually be sharing the expenses.”
Her heart fluttered. They’d never discussed moving in together. Surprising herself, she liked hearing Guido drop the hint they might be. It reassured her on some levels, even though she shouldn’t have to worry about the finances.
“I’ll be doing most of the cooking.” Guido eyed the kitchen area. “Let’s go over the kitchen features.”
Tina led the way. “The owner has replaced all of the appliances. You’ve got top-of-the- line stainless steel appliances.”
Guido nodded, his eyes bright as he ran his hands over the stove’s flat-top surface.
“Now, guys, wait till you see the loft bedroom. Follow me.” Tina started up the angular stairway carpeted in a thick-piled mauve to match the bedroom.
“Plenty of room for a king-sized bed and furnishings.” She walked them to the bathroom. “This bath is to die for. Note the claw-foot tub. And the size is obscene for Manhattan. You could practically sleep in here.”
The second floor sold Carmala on the apartment. “I like it a lot, Tina. It’s conveniently located. This is it.”
“And the Flatiron District is an up and coming area for business professionals. How about we start the paperwork?”
“Let’s, please.” Carmala was anxious to wrap things up.
The three of them went back to the kitchen, where Tina rifled through her briefcase to produce the paperwork for the lease. The prospect of getting the new digs erased the lump of anxiety that had been building in her throat all day. She signed the lease with confidence.
She’d make a good income with Synergy Plus. She’d be okay.
One thought continued to niggle her. Should she ask Guido to move in?
****
Carmala’s boss, Tom Johnson, caught the L train and then the Number Two from his Midtown penthouse to lower Manhattan early on a mid-November morning. The bitter cold stabbed his cheeks, and the layers of his scarf and full-length cashmere peacoat, earmuffs, and hat did little to stave off the thirty-five-degree chill. The clear, sunny day contrasted nicely with the last couple of days when two inches of snow blanketed the city. It was great weather to start the upcoming holiday season. And yet it was hard to get excited when an account troubled his mind. At his desk by eight, he gazed out the window of his thirty-fifth-floor office overlooking downtown Manhattan. He was near deadline on the Smithinson account, and he had to consider his stockholders.
The Smithinson Company was a private gas company that had a smattering of small retail gas stations around the country. They wanted to expand their product mix and had come to Synergy Plus for solutions. Unfortunately, they were getting a lot of heat because one of their primary investments was in Bartlet Corporation. Bartlet was involved in a huge oil-drilling mishap that had resulted in a terrible oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Wildlife, fishing, and tourism along the Florida and Texas coasts had been slammed as a result of this fiasco. It cost billions in cleanup and damaged markets everywhere.
He needed the right person on this job. Someone who had the chutzpah to tackle it. This person needed a unique marketing plan to overcome public criticism. Carmala had been with Synergy Plus for only a month but in that time had already finished two jobs. Although she worked more quickly than he’d imagined, should he risk this account on a junior exec?
He couldn’t think of any other exec to take this assignment.
A knock on his door took him out of his thoughts. Speaking of the devil, it was Carmala.
She walked in his office, clutching her morning coffee. “Hey, boss, I’m just checking in. You’re here bright and early as well. Everything all right?”
Tom took his seat and motioned her to do the same. He scratched his head. No, now wouldn’t be the time.
Her confidence shone through—and changed the air in his office. Suddenly his decision was made. “I was thinking we have only four weeks till year-end and a whole heck of a lot to do.”
“I’m finishing the wrap-up reports on the Harrison account, and then I’m ready for more work. I came in early today, because I need to take a two-hour lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”
She obviously hadn’t broken out of her Banter rank and file decorum. “Carmala, you don’t have to report every minute of your time to me.” He took a sip from his coffee. “I’m amazed how well you’ve done and how quickly you executed the first couple of jobs I’ve given you.”
“It wasn’t too hard. Susie from the secretarial pool helped a lot. All I did was get on the phone with the investors and ask for the money. I was actually surprised how easy it was.”
“Maybe you’ll be ready for the next challenge, then.” So be it, let’s see what’s she’s made of. “The client’s name is the Smithinson Company. It’s going to be a tough one, Carmala, but I think you’re the one for the job. The catch here is that we need the job done by year-end, and I think it’s going to take you every bit of the time we have left.”
“Tell me about it.”
Her instant, keen interest reinforced his decision. Good. “My only hesitation is that I don’t want to put too much on you with your move. When is your move-in date?”
“Since Synergy Plus has generously hired a moving company to do a full pack and unpack, it should be a breeze. I’ve already got my current place packed. And I’m actually moving in this weekend, so I’ll be all clear to start on the new client on Monday.”
Tom took the next hour to explain the account, giving the company statistics and marketing-expansion goals. She didn’t appear daunted by his description of the account. Smithinson’s board of directors was a bear to deal with because the members had differing opinions about the company’s direction.
He might be setting her up for failure. But sure hoped he wasn’t.
****
Carmala familiarized herself with the details on the Smithinson account, then delved right into the research. Flattered that Tom trusted her with this troubled account, she was puzzled why he felt it was going to be so hard. The company appeared to have a good marketing plan.
At lunchtime, Carmala raced to the Thai Bistro to meet Bill. They’d planned to eat a quick meal before going uptown to Tiffany’s to pick out Jane’s engagement ring. She arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes late.
She spotted Bill and raced to the table where he sat. She gulped air
, out of breath. “I’m so…sorry. I got this new assignment and I…”
“Sit down and relax. We’re fine. To save time, hope you don’t mind, I’ve already ordered for us. Your favorite, chicken and veggies in oyster sauce. Soup’s on the way.” He handed her a typed sheet of paper. “I did some research on diamonds and wanted you to review it.”
The waiter served her tea. She sipped it, glad to have the warm, pungent taste of jasmine permeating her senses. She glanced over the memo, which summarized size, cut, and clarity of several diamonds he’d already inspected. Good old Bill. Always prepared. “It appears you have everything laid out here, not surprisingly. That’s good.”
“My personal shopper at Tiffany’s, Denise Brody, has been extremely helpful. I know Jane is going to want a nice color. I was hoping for a G, at least. We have an appointment with Denise at one.”
Carmala glanced at her own eighteen-carat-gold watch from Tiffany’s. It had been a treat to herself when she landed the job at Synergy Plus. “It’s already twelve thirty, and our meals haven’t arrived yet.”
“Oh, good. Here comes the food now,” Bill said as the waiter served the plates. “We’ll take the check right away because we’re in a rush.” The waiter nodded and disappeared. “Denise told me that the price for the diamond increases substantially when it’s over one carat. I’m leaning more toward one-and-a-half carats or thereabouts. We’re still getting started. I can upgrade to a bigger diamond later.”
“It sounds like more than a start-up ring, to me. Have you already gone over the pricing?”
“They are substantially priced but nothing I can’t handle.” He gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbled. It couldn’t be that he was worried about money. That was no object to him, so what was it?
Always projecting confidence, Bill rarely showed his true feelings. Carmala was about to change the subject to something lighter.
“There is something I failed to tell her, Carmala.”
“What is it?”
Bill looked down, clearly stuck for words.
Having Fun with Mr. Wrong Page 7
