Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  “I’m technically on my lunch break, so why don’t I take you upstairs to the cafeteria and the fitness club?”

  “Sounds like a wonderful idea.” One flight up they entered a brightly lit hall filled with an aroma reminding Sara that she skipped breakfast.

  “Lunch is on us,” Louise said as they walked through the line.

  Sitting at a table by the window in the crowded cafeteria Sara picked apart a fresh salad. “Louise, do you have family close by?”

  “My husband and I are newlyweds, well almost newlyweds. We married just after I started here at Starr Shine.”

  She took a bite of her chicken wrap, wiped a spot of mayo off her lip, and asked, “What about you? Do you have family close by? Do you have kids?”

  Sara walked herself into this one. How could she answer this and still look like the professional she was trying to project? “My husband and I are separated. Our son, Carl, died this past March. He was twenty-five.”

  “Oh I’m sorry. I...shouldn’t have pried.”

  “I asked you about your family to try to get to know you. It’s only fair you ask in return. It’s still difficult to talk about, both my son’s death and my separation.” Sara could feel the blush fill her face.

  “Would you like to continue the tour? I have fifteen minutes before I need to get back to work.”

  “Sure, where to next?”

  “Well, the library is on this floor. It’s like a swap meet for books. We also use the cafeteria for large group meetings. Muffins and donuts with fresh coffee, tea and juice are available from seven thirty in the morning. The cafeteria closes at six, so if you’re working late and don’t want to eat out, make sure you get up here before then.

  “Above us is the fitness club. It includes a pool, workout room, two racquetball courts and two locker rooms complete with saunas, showers, and a whirlpool. The Club actually takes up the eighth and ninth floors. On top of that is the roof with a helipad and a jogging track around the outer perimeter.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “The company policy is based on a healthy employee is a happy employee; a happy employee is a productive employee and less likely to go looking for another job.”

  “Well, that’s usually true. But sometimes it’s the drudge of the commute that turns employees off. This place is close to the turnpike. I’m sure that was factored into the plan to build here.” With the elevator door opening, they stepped out to the glass fronted entrance of the fitness club. Louise opened the door and smiled at a gray-haired man dressed in black slacks and a maroon t-shirt with the company logo on the left side of his chest. He appeared to be pushing sixty.

  “Hi Joe, this is Sara Stafford. She’s interviewing for a position in our accounting department.”

  “Sara, Joe Stein is the manager up here. When employees want to schedule a time to work out, or want a locker, or a towel, they come to Joe.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Joe. Do all employees have this benefit?”

  “Everybody who works here, including me,” he said with a smile. “We’re in our busiest time of the day. A lot of employees use the center during their lunch break. Just be careful where you walk. Some places are wet; I wouldn’t want you to slip.”

  “Thank you, we’ll be careful. What are your hours of operation here?”

  “The club is open from six a.m. to eleven p.m. I’m on duty from ten to seven, with an hour break whenever I want it. The rest of the time everyone is on the honor system. Security locks up at night and unlocks the doors in the morning.”

  After a stroll through the facility Sara said, “My goodness, Louise. This is quite an employee benefit. Do you know the percentage of employees who take advantage of it?”

  “About sixty percent actively use the facility. Another twelve percent have lockers up here, but are not active users of the equipment.”

  “How do you keep track of the usage?”

  “We all have ID badges. They’re used as keys to activate any of the equipment, and the lockers. Joe has a report of who’s assigned which lockers and knows who comes and goes through the doors while he’s on duty.”

  “This place is fascinating. Do you have any more time to spare?”

  “I’ll show you the training center and the HR department; then I have to get back.”

  ***

  Later in the parking lot, Sara’s knees were shaking. “I want this job!” Out on Mall Road, She glanced in the rear view mirror and there was a black SUV behind her. Either there are a lot of them with black tinted windows or the same guy was following her for the second time today. Yesterday she saw two of them. “Stop looking for trouble, Sara.”

  By three forty, she’d checked the real estate offerings in the area, found a bank, and picked up a cheesecake and bottle of wine. She was really looking forward to relaxing with Cass. It’d been a long time since they spent time together. A glance in the rearview mirror and she saw another SUV parked in a handicap spot with its engine running. This was getting just too weird. That buzzard better not follow her down the turnpike.

  ***

  “Ding dong, dessert lady calling,” Sara called out to Cass when she walked through her door.

  “Hey you! Come in. Let me look at you.” Cass pulled her into the house like she’d hauled her into their dorm room to share a juicy piece of gossip about the campus hunks a lifetime ago.

  “I'm nothing to look at, Cass, just a worn out woman. The wine’s still cold; let’s tap it now.”

  With her flowing Indian caftan and leather sandals, bangle bracelets and matching hoop earrings, earth mother to all, Cass reached out to her with the comforting hug of a true friend.

  “God, it’s been a long time since anyone hugged me and meant it.”

  “Well then, I’ll hug you again just so you won’t forget where the hugs are unconditional.”

  With that bit of sincerity, Sara’s day finally overflowed.

  “Hey, it’s okay sweetie. I didn’t mean to start the waterworks. But, if that’s what you need to do, there’s no safer place than here. Come and sit while I open the wine.”

  Wiping tears with one hand Sara dug into her purse for a tissue. Cass’s silky black cat, as wide as he was long, rubbed up against her legs. “Hey, Merlin,” Sara reached down and scratched him behind the ears, “How’s life treating you, old fella?”

  “He’s fat and lazy and king of the house and he knows it.”

  “Aw, give him a break, Cass; he’s an old man in cat years.”

  “He’s a grumpy old man. Any time I try to change things around in here he tears up my effort.”

  “It smells wonderful in here. It’s not pot again, is it?”

  “I haven’t played with that in a very long time. It’s a new potpourri I mixed myself. I think it makes the house smell all mystical and mellow.”

  “I have visions of a psychedelic house, walls swaying in and out of focus. How was your day at school? Or was it the direct opposite of the peace and serenity I feel here?”

  “The life of an art teacher on the go between two schools makes for a very busy week. Fridays are my half-day at each school. It can be frantic with little hands covered in chalk or charcoal or finger paint. Trying to keep them focused on the project at hand and not the free-for-all paint fight they would rather be having is enough to fray a saint’s wings. It’s always good to come home to peace and quiet.”

  “That’s what I’ve missed the last six months, Cass, a good home with peace and quiet, a place of serenity.”

  “Speaking of which, quick, take a sip of wine before I drag you next door to see the house I told you about. I want you to see it before we lose daylight. It would be perfect for you.”

  Cass dragged her through the front door and over the lawn to a light gray ranch style house with gray blue shutters. A dormer framed the windows on the left, a one car garage on the right, and a cozy recessed porch tucked into the middle of the front façade. A for sale sign was stuck in the middle of th
e lawn. “Tell me about the people who used to live here. You said the owner moved to Florida. What happened to his wife?”

  “She died last year from breast cancer. He swears he’s not going to put up with another Maine winter. He wants to sell quickly. It just went on the market three days ago and already there’s been a flurry of curiosity about the place. I’ve had a key to it since his wife became ill. Kevin’s in Florida looking for a condo near a golf course. It won’t take long to sell.”

  “Decent sized lawn, neat and uncluttered except for that small maple out front. How big is the back?”

  “Let’s walk around so you can see. It has a little more lawn than mine but that’s because of the angle of the road behind us.”

  Around the far side, a three-foot high hedge separated the property from the neighbor on the left. “That hedge is a forsythia, isn’t it? I bet it blooms a gorgeous yellow in the spring.”

  “Leave it to you, Sara, to think common forsythia is gorgeous. Almost everyone else in this neighborhood has been ripping them out.”

  “Who lives in this dark green doublewide on the other side?”

  “Oscar and Ruth Obermeyer, they’re an elderly Jewish couple from Israel. His health is shaky at best, walks with a cane when he does get out. They’ve only been here a month, good people though.”

  They climbed a set of four steps to the front porch of the little house for sale. “I can envision a glider or couple of rockers here, with a potted mum and a spray of Indian corn beside the front door.”

  “See, you’re already getting into the swing of it. Inside, the main living area is an open concept. It’s in move-in condition. Kevin had the carpets shampooed after he moved his furniture out.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were walking back to Cass’s place. “What can I say? I like it! It feels like home; or will as soon as I add some furniture. It’s also not big and fussy. I don’t want that; I want simple and complete.”

  “Ron never finished the house, did he?”

  “When I left we were still using five-gallon spackling buckets for end tables in the living room.”

  “Come on, dinner should be ready to come out of the oven.”

  Sara could hear her cell phone chiming when they reach Cass’s living room.

  “Marilyn Margeson, calling for Sara Stafford.”

  “You’ve got me. What’s the word, Marilyn?”

  “You’ve got a final interview with the president of Starr Shine Communications on Monday at four-thirty. With this company, you don’t get this far without a job offer in the plan. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you; you made my day.” Sara disconnected the call with a smile on her face.

  Cass walked in from the kitchen, “Dinner will be another fifteen minutes; got to let it cool a bit. I take it that was good news on the phone?”

  “It’s awesome news. But I still don’t know if they’re sending me to Chicago or not. Or maybe even San Francisco. Now I’m undecided about the house.”

  “What’s this about Chicago or San Francisco?”

  “Well, there are two positions open according to Jonathon Pierce. He’s the CFO of Starr Shine. One is the corporate comptroller spot here in Portland. Then, there’s a staff accountant spot in Chicago. I believe I’m overqualified for that job and I told him that in my interview this morning. Apparently, they hire all top positions from corporate headquarters here in Portland. So, three of us are being considered for two positions. Marilyn from the employment agency just told me we all have final interviews on Monday.

  “I don’t know Cass. Something doesn’t feel right. The CFO asked hardly more than a handful of questions in my interview. How could I get to the final interview stage this quickly?”

  “Sara, don’t quibble about a quick hire. What is this thing about San Francisco?”

  “Well, the outgoing comptroller is being moved to the San Francisco office. I don’t think he’s happy about it. There was an incident while I was there for the interview. I think they just told him about this relocation to the west coast. I was lead to believe it was a lateral move when I asked about the person I’d be replacing. But when one of the staff accountants gave me a tour of the building, I was able to glean that all divisional comptrollers report to the corporate comptroller. It’s not a lateral move; it’s a step down for him.”

  “Wow, maybe he quit. Maybe they want to fill all three spots now.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I wonder if I should wait to call the real estate agent about the house.”

  “You know, Sara, if you wait and you’re slated for the Portland spot, you may lose out on the house.”

  “Yeah, I know. I do like the house, its location next to you and close to the turnpike.”

  “Maybe you can make an offer contingent on landing the job in Portland.”

  “You’ve got a good idea there. I suppose these contingencies happen all the time. What’s the phone number for the seller’s real estate office?”

  “Now you’re talking. Her name is Kimberly Jones; her card is over there beside my phone. Why don’t you give her a call while I set the table? Do you want some more wine?”

  “Half a glass.”

  Fifteen minutes later Sara walked into Cass’s kitchen, “Well, the ball is rolling. Let’s toast to old friends and new beginnings.” They clinked wine glasses together over Cass’s dining table. It was covered with the orange, blue, and green woven cloth Sara sent her from her trip to Guatemala. “Very pretty table setting, Cass. I can’t believe you still have this,” Sara smiled and reached down to touch the fringed edge, memories from an innocent youth.

  “It’s my favorite tablecloth. And it fits my mood. Let’s eat.”

  “This is what I need, Cass; peace and quiet and a new direction for my life.”

  Later, when the real estate agent had come and gone, they were mellowing in a pair of bentwood rockers with two mugs of Constant Comment tea. Eyes closed, Sara inhaled the spicy scent, pondering the twists and turns of the last year of her life. Thoughts turned to her friend as they listened to the sweet sounds of their old favorites from Simon and Garfunkel. Their voices joined in harmony with the disk, “Old friends, old friends sit on their park bench like bookends.”

  “Cass, are you still dating the science teacher?”

  “Ben and I go out once or twice a month. He’d like the relationship to be more but I like things the way they are.”

  “How are your boys? You didn’t mention them all evening.” Sara asked without opening her eyes.

  “Oh they’re fine. I didn’t bring them up because you needed to decompress. I’ll vent on you another time.”

  “Nonsense, what’s Rusty doing?”

  “He’s out in Seattle near his dad; they spend a lot of time fishing together.”

  “And?”

  “Rusty was always closer to his dad. He’s getting married in April.”

  “Mike or Rusty?”

  “Rusty.”

  “Are you flying out?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not looking forward to being forced into a social situation with Mike. He married the last bimbo he played with. She came up with an acute case of pregnancy. God, she’s two years younger than Rusty. Mike will never grow up.”

  “That’s going to be a tough visit. Have you met Rusty’s intended?”

  “We’ve talked by phone, and she’s sent pictures of the two of them together. She’s a nice girl, teaches second grade in Everett.”

  “What about Jordie? Is he still painting?”

  “He’s still in Newburyport getting ready for a show. Jordie is my gifted prize. See that picture over the sofa? That’s one of his.”

  The seascape was of a quiet cove. In the shallows of the surf, a young woman wearing a white sarong appeared to be spinning in the sand with her arms uplifted to the sun. “Jordie is so gifted, Cass. You can feel the warmth of the sun and gentle breeze. It has a calming affect.”

  “That’s why I placed it there. It was
a gift last Christmas. He’s also been working on the technique of imbedding one scene within another. I have one of those in my spare room. Although, it’s an unusual technique, the piece is too violent.”

  “Will you show it to me?”

  Cass looked back at her, “Are you sure? I don’t want to cause more nightmares.”

  “It’s just a painting; it can’t hurt me. I want to see what he’s done with the technique.” Sara placed her tea mug on the glass top of the driftwood coffee table that’d been part of Cass’s scavenger collection for a long time.

  In the spare room, Cass turned on the switch to some indirect lighting and then to a spotlight focused on the center of the far wall.

  “Wow! This is really intense,” Sara whispered. “This one commands a hushed presence. It should be in a show or a gallery somewhere.”

  “I told you. We’ll go back into the other room.”

  “No not yet. Show me the dimensions of the picture within.”

  “Stand in front of it. What do you see?”

  Moving to the opposite wall directly in front of the painting, Sara studied the large canvas, “Violent sea; crashing on jagged rocks, storm clouds menacing.”

  “Now squint and tilt your head to the right. See anything else?”

  “Oh! It looks like a ship. A phantom ship imbedded in the gray clouds, just moving from around the rock cliff.”

  “Jordie has taken it one step further,” Cass added. “He has a third scene imbedded. Sit on the floor and look up at the picture. What do you see?”

  “Oh God!” Sara covered her face and bent over her knees. “Turn off the light!”

  “Sara, what’s wrong? I know it’s a violent painting but the third image is just a jolly roger from the pirate ship with a bloody sword through its skull.”

  “That isn’t the third image at all. It’s Carl with blood flowing from his eyes. I can’t look anymore.” Scrambling up from the floor, Sara ran for the bathroom and dumped her stomach into Cass’s toilet.

  “Sara, are you all right? Can I come in?”

  “Wait a minute, Cass. I’m sorry; I lost that wonderful dinner you made.” Sara flushed, and turned to wash up and rinse her mouth.