Elizabeth's Daughter (9 page)

Chapter XI

Gail, who had been completely apprised of the situation by Mrs. Vargas, agreed to come over the next afternoon. Elizabeth liked Gail’s voice and manner on the telephone and hoped that impression would carry over in the interview as well.

  When she got to work, she bounced into Tony’s office. He was on the telephone and he held his hand up with his “I’m busy” gesture without looking at her.  But she continued to stand in the doorway.

  Finally Tony hung up. “Good grief, Elizabeth, can’t you tell I’m busy?”

  “And can’t you tell I have some business to discuss?” Elizabeth returned. Wow, she thought, she could never have talked to Tony like this before yesterday... before Amy.

  Tony leaned back slowly in his black velvet swivel chair, steepling his fingers. “My, my! We ate our Wheaties this morning, didn’t we?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m taking the afternoon off.”

  Tony leaned forward again. “Why?”

  “I have some personal business.”

  “You haven’t ever taken one minute off.”

  “I know,” Elizabeth answered. “In fact, I’ve often worked through lunch. I’ve earned an afternoon off.”

  “Mighty short notice,” Tony said, sounding tough. “I was going to have you take the Watsons around.”

  “Well, I won’t be able to.” Elizabeth was curious about this new person in her who could so easily talk assertively with Tony.

  “I’ve never seen you like this,” he said.

  “I’ve never been like this,” Elizabeth answered, turning to leave his office.

  “Wait,” Tony said in a big cat-purr-voice that could not have been more absent just seconds before.

  It caught Elizabeth by surprise and she stopped with her hand on the door frame. She looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  Tony stood and moved toward her. As always, whenever he came near her, his musky fragrance and powerful eyes made her heart perform irregular calisthenics. He leaned up against the wall close by her and yet did not touch her.

  “Does my girl have a date?” he asked, holding her gaze.

  Elizabeth laughed. “A date, in the
afternoon
? For pity’s sake, Tony, I just have an appointment. It’s personal. That is, for the moment I don’t want to talk about it.” She walked through the door, then turned and gave him a big smile. “You flatter me though, thinking I could come up with someone to date in the afternoon.”

  Tony shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re acting so strange.”

  “You mean, as if I have a life of my own? Just between you and me, Tony, I suspect I’ll be acting a lot more ‘strange’ from now on.” Elizabeth returned to her desk.

  A short while later Tony, frowning, passed her desk. “I’ve got to get some things done if I have to take the Watsons around this afternoon.”

  “Okay,” Elizabeth said.

  At noon she organized and locked her desk then picked up her purse. “See you tomorrow, Edna,” she said as she opened the door.

  “Huh?” Edna said, blank-eyed.

  “I said, ‘see you tomorrow,’ “ Elizabeth repeated.

  Edna studied her watch, then looked back up, puzzled, at Elizabeth.

  “I’m taking the afternoon off,” Elizabeth explained carefully.

  Edna’s confusion metamorphosed to a schoolmarm look of disapproval. “Really?!”

  “Dear me, I forgot to ask your permission.” Elizabeth’s sarcasm was lost on Edna.

  Edna harrumphed. “Wish I could go gallivantin’ off at will!”

  “It’s none of my business what you do, Edna, but in the three months I’ve been here, you’ve taken five or six afternoons off,” Elizabeth pointed out.

  “That’s different,” Edna sniffed. “That was business.”

  “Even I have responsibilities. Bye.” Elizabeth went to her car, determined not to let Edna get to her.

  But she found herself thinking about her anyway as she pulled out of the parking lot. Why did she have to always be so venomous? Because, Elizabeth realized, she was in love, or believed herself to be in love, with Tony, and she didn’t need Elizabeth in the way.

  “It wouldn’t bother me if there were something between Edna and Tony,” Elizabeth told her rear-view mirror. She thought of Edna’s dumpy, frumpy style and the fifteen years she had on Tony. Tony and Edna? Improbable.  Even with her lack of experience, Elizabeth could see that Tony played Edna like a violin.

  Of course, Elizabeth thought, he’s probably doing the same with me.

  She reflected on the character change in Tony that morning from nasty to nice when he didn’t get his way. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed his mood swings, but it was one of the strangest. Sometimes he seemed almost robotic. But then, look at his perfectly chiseled features, Elizabeth thought, the stuff of mannikins.

  On the way home she stopped at a Lebanese bakery and picked up a few pastries to serve when Gail came over. She didn’t feel the least bit like a potential employer about to interview a potential employee. She felt like a supplicant, praying for someone to fill all the gaps she didn’t know how to anticipate in her pending role of mommyhood.

  When she arrived home she walked into the barren downstairs study to see what kind of first impression it might give Gail. She wished now that she’d at least put something on the floor and the walls so that it didn’t look so empty and unfriendly. She lugged a chintz print over-stuffed chair into the study and stole one of the floor lamps from the living room to make a soft light beside the chair, which, other than a stark little desk, was the only furniture in the room.

  Then she went upstairs and put on jeans. No, she decided, that made her look too young and not serious enough. Opening her closet door all the way, she spied her “previous-self” print house dresses. She tried one on, and decided to go with it... even though there was a certain incongruity with her pixie hair and contemporary make-up. The doorbell rang and she ran downstairs, flustered.

  When Elizabeth opened the door, a full-bodied, woman in her mid-forties, a face very much like the moon, dark hair to her waist tied back with a scarf of many colors, stood smiling at her. She was dressed in a black sweater, a crazy quilt jacket, and what appeared to be layers of skirts, all surrounded by the essence of patchouli. “Hi! I’m Gail Wanaski.” She extended her hand.

  “Hi, Gail, Elizabeth Morris.” She took Gail’s soft, warm hand. “Please, come in.” A sense of
déjà vu
flowed over Elizabeth as Gail came into the house. Even as they walked into the living room, Elizabeth could not shake the feeling she had done this with this woman before.

  “Make yourself comfortable while I get some refreshments,” Elizabeth said. “I’m not quite organized yet, I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, no, doesn’t phase me in the least,” Gail said, following Elizabeth into the kitchen familiarly. “I’m a definite tea person, myself,” Gail said. “Tea, or warm milk or hot chocolate. What a great spot!” she continued, sitting at the breakfast table and looking out at the lake. “A real artist’s place, isn’t it?”

  “Why, yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “In fact, I bought it from a writer.”

  “No kidding? Right again! Who?”

  “Peter Shamus. But he usually writes under some pseudo....”

  “No kidding! Peter Shamus, alias Kim McCorky, alias D. Daniels.”

  “You know him?” Elizabeth asked surprised.

  “Oh no! I don’t
know
him, I just worship him from afar, so to speak, at the altar of his tomes.”

  “You read him?”

  “Sure. Everything. Even his westerns. The man’s got style. And sensitivity. And, here’s the important part
–
he writes likable, intelligent real women characters.”

  “Hmm.” The kettle started to whistle and Elizabeth put a couple of Earl Grey tea bags in a little teapot and poured boiling water over them. The aroma of bergamot floated up around her.

  “You haven’t read him?” Gail asked, incredulous.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t. You see, I didn’t know his pseudonyms.” Boy-oh-boy! Elizabeth thought, how unmotivated can I be? She brought the teapot to the table and poured.

  “And you didn’t, for instance,” Gail suggested, “ask what name he wrote under?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, feeling really,
really
stupid. What an odd turn this ‘interview’ had taken. She couldn’t keep from breaking out into a nervous giggle. “I’m sorry, Gail
–
it’s just
–
well, this is
not
the conversation I’d envisioned! I feel like I should say, ‘does this mean you don’t get the job?’ “

  Gail broke out in a robust, ale-house laughter, her round green eyes closed up into little half moons in her round pink cheeks. “I don’t mean to scare you. You’re supposed to try and do that to me! Although I don’t scare easy.”

  “Well, I
do
scare easily,” Elizabeth confided. “Oh, the pastries! I picked some up on the way home.” She looked around the kitchen. “I wonder where I put them?”

  “Are they in that box on the table behind the couch in the living room?” Gail asked.

  Now
that
was an eye for detail, Elizabeth thought as she retrieved the pastries. “You’re certainly observant,” she said.

  “Oh, I have a knack for things out of place. You also recently moved a chair and a round table or lamp.”

  “Amazing, Sherlock!” Elizabeth laughed, surprised.

  “Naa, nothing amazing. There’s just marks on the carpet.”

  Elizabeth placed the pastries on a plate, brought it to the breakfast table, then sat across from Gail. She couldn’t remember a thing she had earlier thought would be absolutely essential to ask.

  “I hope I haven’t put you off,” Gail said, biting into a piece of baklava. “I know I sometimes have that effect. But I’m strong of mind, character, and body. Also I have a résumé as long as your arm.”

  “Isn’t it odd?” Elizabeth asked. “I have the strongest feeling that I know you already. Even though I feel sort of intimidated by you, it doesn’t really bother me. It seems as if we’ve already covered that ground, as if we already know our roles, and now it’s time for us to make a home for Amy.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Gail said, holding her tea mug aloft.

  Elizabeth clinked her tea mug to Gail’s.

  Right at that moment the telephone rang.

  “Excuse me,” Elizabeth said, going into the living room to answer it.

  “How’d it go?” Tony said without preamble.

  “Tony?” Elizabeth turned her back to the kitchen. “How did what go?”

  “Your appointment.”

  “Well, it’s not over yet, but it’s going quite well.” Elizabeth wanted to feel defensive about his invasion of her privacy. But, for some odd reason, she felt flattered. He must care for me more than I realize, she thought.

  “Not over yet,” Tony repeated. “Do you suppose it’ll get over in time for me to take you to dinner?”

  “Tonight?” Elizabeth asked, surprised. One thing he’d never done was ask her out on a Wednesday night.

  “Sure, tonight. Or will your ‘appointment’ last all night?”

  “Look, Tony,” Elizabeth felt her temper rising after all, “you know better than anyone that I don’t... “ it dawned on her that Gail could hear her every word.

  “Don’t?” Tony teased.

  “Yes, don’t!”

  “Okay, okay, Liz, don’t get excited. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

  “I think not, Tony. Thanks, but I have a lot on my mind, and I’m exhausted.” Elizabeth suddenly realized the truth of her words. “Let me take a rain check, when I’m more relaxed.”

  “Huh! Rain check. You’re treating me pretty casually.” He sounded truly surprised.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to business.”

  “No, no.
I’m
sorry,” Tony said curtly.

  “That’s okay. See you tomorrow.”

  “Right.” He cut the connection with a noise click.

  Elizabeth slowly replaced the telephone receiver. She was nothing short of amazed how that man could stir her up. Was this love? If so, it was a fundamentally annoying emotion. She ran her fingers through her hair and returned to the kitchen.

  “More tea?” she asked, putting the kettle back on the stove.

  “If you do,” Gail answered. “Men! Ain’t they exasperating?”

  “Well, I don’t really know,” Elizabeth answered, returning to the table. “I’ve lived an extremely sheltered life. That is, up until a few months ago when my grandfather died. I date Tony occasionally, but not much lately because I, well, I guess Tony’s right when he calls me a prude.”

  “Nothing wrong with being sure about things, for your own sake,” Gail said soothingly, patting Elizabeth’s hand. “Absolutely nothing wrong with it, and don’t let him try to convince you otherwise.”

  Elizabeth could hardly believe the sense of relief she felt hearing someone else voice her own opinion. “That’s what
I
think,” she said, nodding.

  The kettle began whistling and Elizabeth got up to steep more tea. “But he’s so incredibly good looking.”

  “Hmm,” Gail said.

  “No, really. He should be a model... or something.”

  “Oh, I’m not doubting it,” Gail said. “That was just my ‘the gorgeous-guy-syndrome’ hmm.”

  “Well, if anyone deserves that ‘hmm,’ it’s Tony.” Elizabeth returned with the teapot. “What’s funny, though, is, he never really seems to care much about me.” Elizabeth stared out at the lake and let her thoughts reflect off its surface like a grey cloud. “That is, he seems to enjoy me sometimes, then he has a mood swing and it’s as if everything makes him, oh, sarcastic.”

  “Hormones,” Gail pronounced. “Raging hormones.”

  “Ah,” Elizabeth said, studying Gail. “Well, I guess that explains it. But what I’m saying is, he never seemed to care much about me until just today, when I told him I was taking the afternoon off.”

  “You work together,” Gail surmised.

  “That’s right. Anyway, this morning, when I told him I was taking the afternoon off, he got all, sort of... jealous
,
asking me if I had a date. And just now on the phone? He was trying to get me to go out with him tonight. He’s never wanted to go out in the middle of the week.” Elizabeth sipped her tea. “He was checking up on me. It’s strange.”