Forging a Desire Line

by Mary P. Burns

  Turning her attention to the piece of paper, Charley watched Joanna flip her “wins” around three games. “No way!” she said.

  Joanna handed the sheet to her. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

  Charley hesitated.

  “Nervous I might be right?” Joanna said.

  “Never.” She took the folded bills from her pocket, peeled two fifties from the inside, and set them on the coffee table.

  “Oh, she’s going for it,” Joanna said.

  “Nervous I might take you to the cleaners?”

  Joanna handed one of the fifties back to her. “I can’t take you for that much. I’ll hold this until Monday.”

  Tricia laughed out loud. “I do believe, Charley Owens, that you have met your match.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Charley’s phone rang Sunday evening. Emily wanted her to set up a team breakfast for eight o’clock in the morning. “I realize how late I’m asking you for this, but I’m counting on those rabbits in your Rolodex,” Emily said.

  “Never mind the rabbits,” she said. “What about getting some of this team into the office at that hour?”

  “I’ve already made those calls.”

  “Can I assume—” Charley asked excitedly.

  “Nothing. Tomorrow. Oh. Get champagne. The good stuff.” Emily chuckled and hung up.

  Charley called the one caterer she could count on in a pinch like this and hoped she didn’t have another job. She had given Leigh, the wife of a former boss, her first break when Leigh launched her personal catering business. Without hesitation, Leigh said yes, and Charley knew she could check that box “done.”

  When Emily arrived at the office at a quarter to eight, she happened to look over Charley’s shoulder at her computer screen.

  “You’re not working on that online streaming report already, are you? God, I’ve hardly woken—”

  Charley turned to look at Emily when she stopped dead, wondering what happened.

  “That’s the chairman’s conference room schedule,” Emily said, horrified. “You’re not booking that for us now are you?”

  “Yes. It’s soundproofed. No one will hear us cheer. And Hans won’t be in until ten. I checked his schedule. We just have to go up to the corporate floor one or two at a time so we don’t raise any suspicion, and leave that way when we’re done.”

  “You are brazen.”

  “What better way to announce to the C Levels up there that there’s a new sheriff in town than to leave a conference room full of half-eaten omelets, French pastries, and empty bottles of Dom Perignon behind?”

  “You ordered Dom?

  “My rabbit, my champagne.”

  The team did, indeed, cheer when Emily announced that the deal would be going through as the first-of-its-kind partnership with their competitor and the new streaming company, and Paul Whitney had leaked it to the Wall Street Journal last night with his and Emily’s names front and center. “Now,” she said, “how many of you think I should still go to the board and put Hans on the hot seat.”

  “Do you still have the recording of the meeting where he told you to tell Paul the handshake came with our company logo?” Harry asked.

  Emily nodded.

  Every hand in the room went up.

  * * *

  A week later, Charley and Joanna sat at the bar in Pietro’s again.

  “We should think about making these Monday nights dinners,” Charley said. There was a jumbo shrimp cocktail between them, two pieces left.

  “Now you’re suggesting dinners when we’re supposed to be keeping this relationship professional.” Joanna fixed her with a look that took her breath away.

  Charley wanted nothing more than to gaze into those emerald eyes for the next hour. “We have to eat.”

  “Line in the sand. One hour, a drink, like we’ve been doing for weeks. Maybe an appetizer.” Joanna dragged a shrimp through the cocktail sauce and bit the end off.

  “You should’ve been an arbitrator.”

  “I am an arbitrator. Getting patients to do things or take meds can be an ordeal. Tricia, by the way, is very ornery.”

  “Preaching to the choir, sister. And you’ve only been at this for two weeks, not even.”

  “How did you deal with her for twenty-five years?”

  Charley smiled and raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, no, you can’t fix everything with sex.”

  “You might not be able to…”

  Joanna laughed. “That ego, my God…”

  Charley brushed a piece of nonexistent lint from her shirt. “I think you just might have to get used to it.”

  “All right, let’s get serious for a moment.”

  “Must we?”

  “Tricia gave the nursing staff Thanksgiving weekend off.”

  “Yes, I knew she was going to do that. We discussed it right after she brought you all on.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “No. But I pick my battles with her and this isn’t one of them. Ted and I can take care of her for four days. She wants to do it again at Christmas and that’s the battle I’m choosing.”

  “Oh, well, we can shut that right down with a letter from the company telling her she’ll be in violation of the contract.”

  “Then why don’t you do that now?” Charley said, surprised.

  “Because most of the team would like the time off, so we’re not saying anything to Payroll. They won’t catch it until afterward, but that’s what will generate the letter to her in December.”

  Charley shook her head. “What will you be doing for Thanksgiving?”

  “Going to my brother’s in Connecticut.”

  “You never go back to California to see the rest of your family, do you?” She wanted to ask if Georgia would be going with her, but that part of things was still “hands off,” and she wouldn’t pry.

  Joanna shook her head. “I’m not close to my dad. He has a hard time with…well, with me.”

  “So does my mother. With me.”

  “Won’t your family want you home for Thanksgiving? Why don’t you bring Tricia?”

  “Oh, no. My mother and Tricia did not get along.”

  “Ouch. And you had to put up with that for twenty-five years?”

  Charley sighed. “My friends didn’t like her, either.”

  Joanna laughed incredulously. “What did you do?”

  “Oh, we had plenty of friends, as a couple. It’s just that all mine didn’t like her, and her friends didn’t like me since I’d broken up her relationship with Eleanor. But you and Georgia must’ve run into a similar problem.”

  “No.” Joanna finished the piece of shrimp. “Our two camps were rooting for us to break up with our then-partners and get together. Lesson learned, never start a relationship by proxy.”

  “Not something I’d ever considered.”

  “Good. Don’t.” Joanna caught the bartender’s attention for the bill. “So, will you text me over Thanksgiving to let me know how you’re doing?”

  “Yes. And we’ll have dinner next Monday?”

  “Thought you could sneak that through, huh?”

  * * *

  Thanksgiving was far more fun than Charley had thought it was going to be. Ted brought his boyfriend, Ryan, the kitchen became a hive of chefs running amok with no sous chefs among them, and Charley was amazed when a beautiful golden brown turkey showed up on the table stuffed with Ryan’s mother’s andouille-sausage-and-sage stuffing, along with an enormous variety of side dishes followed by six desserts.

  Tricia surveyed the scene before carving the turkey. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said.

  “You told me you wanted a Thanksgiving you’d never had before,” Ted said.

  “I think we need to say grace this year,” Tricia said.

  After dinner, they all settled in to watch It’s a Wonderful Life, as she and Tricia had done for years, Tricia curled up under Ryan’s protective arm. Charley tried
not to cry when Tricia lost it, as she had also done for years, when George Bailey begged his guardian angel to take it all back, that he didn’t want to die. This year, Charley knew she was crying yet again for George Bailey, and maybe for herself. The bell ringing on the Christmas tree made her wonder where Tricia’s guardian angel was.

  Turning in that night, Tricia asked Charley to lie down with her. She hesitated.

  “Just for a little while. I’m bone-tired, Charley, and I need some comforting.”

  She stretched out on the bed, and Tricia shifted to put her head on Charley’s shoulder; she pulled Tricia close.

  “Talk to Joanna today?”

  “No.”

  “Call her. Don’t waste time, Charley. It’s too precious.”

  Shortly after that, Tricia was sound asleep, and she slipped off the bed and tucked the quilt around her. Weeks ago, she’d seen the framed picture on the dresser of the two of them, taken at the beach the first summer they were together; now she stopped at the sight of an open mussel shell propped up against the frame, the pearl white interior a startling contrast to the black wings. She knew it couldn’t be the one Tricia had picked up that day. Too delicate, it would’ve dried out and broken long ago. “This is us,” Tricia had said, “two halves connected near the top. And, of course, black and white, different as night and day.” Who had brought her the shell?

  She went to the guest room and got ready for bed, but loneliness hit her in a way that it hadn’t in some time. Without allowing herself to think about the ramifications, Charley texted Joanna. U up?

  Joanna: Yes.

  How are things at your brother’s?

  Joanna: Like being caught in an old episode of Family Ties.

  Then you should be having fun.

  Joanna: Not when you have a nephew as annoying as Alex P. Keaton. How are things there?

  Seinfeld.

  Joanna sent a laughing emoticon. So what’s on your mind?

  Charley ran her finger lightly over the keys. I want you, that’s what’s on my mind is what she wanted to send back. Nothing. Just wanted to see how you are.

  Joanna: Liar.

  Charley’s laughter was momentary, buried right away in pain. Okay, I’m being eaten alive by mosquitoes of doubt and fear.

  A moment later, her phone rang. “Talk to me.”

  Charley fought to keep the tears out of her voice. “She cried for George Bailey tonight.”

  “Everybody cries for George Bailey.”

  “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, coming down here, watching her slowly disappear before my eyes. It hurts.”

  “Charley, I concluded weeks ago that you are nothing short of titanium to have put up all those years with a woman made of such steel as Tricia. Of course you can do it.”

  “I’m not. Made of titanium. I feel like every minute I spend with her I’m losing something. Pieces of her. Sand running through the hourglass.” Charley sighed. “Pieces of me.” Joanna telling her they couldn’t get involved because of her own emotional investment came tumbling back to her when all she wanted to do in this moment was find her way into Joanna’s arms.

  “I’m here to handle this with you. You can call me any time.”

  “Yeah? And what are you made of?”

  “I’m a diamond, Charley. There’s nothing stronger.”

  Charley slipped under the covers of the bed and pulled the quilt tight around her. When they finally said good night, Charley felt like even though there were miles between them, Joanna had managed to cradle her in her arms.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Charley was still thinking about Monday night, having drinks with Joanna in the little Spanish restaurant on Forty-First Street after the Thanksgiving weekend, as she walked to work on Friday. There had been quite a bit of shameless flirting, which Charley welcomed, and Joanna had made her laugh with her imitation of her annoying young money-centric nephew.

  This morning she decided to follow a lesser-used route to her office building that brought her to the high arched granite underpasses of the Helmsley Building that led to Park Avenue. She hadn’t used that option in eons, but she loved the breathtaking view it afforded straight down Park Avenue as far as the eye could see. It could make you feel like you were in a different world, walking up the boulevard with its mix of stately old International Style corporate buildings from the twenties and thirties coupled with the new sparkly glass towers going up on other corners where the city hadn’t been smart enough to landmark some of its nineteenth century headquarters of commerce. Set off by flowers and greenery that ran the length of the avenue’s median, the walk always brought her peace. A landscaping company changed the flora seasonally, transforming the street, when it happened, as though someone had sprinkled a bit of fairy dust overnight. Charley took in the current riot of maroon and pink dahlias, red and yellow hibiscus scrambling among tall bushes she didn’t recognize which bloomed a white flower with bright yellow stamen, and for a moment, everything in life was good.

  At Fifty-Sixth Street, Charley decided to stop in at the new Lenny’s Bagels shop to get breakfast. As she reached for the door, someone standing in line at the counter caught her eye. It was the unmistakable way the woman moved that arrested her. Joanna. But it was the way she moved around the woman she was with that stopped Charley dead: a tall redhead in a dark brown corporate suit and heels, and it couldn’t have been any clearer that the woman was flirting with Joanna. She let the door go and stood transfixed, watching them. At one point, the woman turned to look out the shop’s glassed front and Charley inhaled involuntarily. She was quite a beauty, her skin alabaster white against the deep hue of her suit, her light blue eyes searching for something but finding Joanna instead. Charley stood rooted to the spot, and then Joanna glanced out the window, saw her, and walked to the door. Part of her wanted to run. But more of her wanted to know who the redhead was.

  “Charley, what are you doing here?”

  Joanna hugged her, and Charley was aware of her own rigidity in the moment.

  “Picking up breakfast before I go into the office. You?”

  “There’s an apartment Georgia wants me to see, so we’re getting breakfast first.”

  “That’s Georgia?” Wow.

  Joanna turned to look at her. Georgia, Charley noticed, had been intently studying their exchange. “Yes.”

  “The apartment’s near here?”

  “No. In Brooklyn.”

  “Oh. Good.” Charley realized how evident her relief had been when Joanna laughed.

  She opened the door and held it for Charley. “Coming in?”

  “Uh…no, I’m late, so…” Charley pointed toward Madison Avenue. It was actually her insecurity pointing. She’d had no idea that if Georgia was indeed a foe, she was this formidable.

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll see you tonight at Tricia’s?”

  “Yes.” Joanna was clearly disappointed, which made Charley feel a tiny bit better, but she knew she couldn’t go in there and meet Georgia, so she headed over to the office.

  About an hour later, her phone’s buoy rang. The text was from Joanna. Bring your office football pool picks tonight. I could use another hundred dollars.

  Double or nothing, Charley shot back. A second later, a better idea came to her, but she decided to keep it to herself until much later tonight.

  The buoy rang again. Joanna had sent a thumbs-up and a slew of dollar signs. Charley laughed. Maybe what they had wasn’t romantic just yet, but the friendship they were building was something special.

  The picks were tucked into her back pocket when she rang the bell and let herself into Tricia’s apartment. She put them on the coffee table for later, wanting to enjoy dinner with Tricia and Joanna without talk of football. She also didn’t want Tricia to see or hear the bet she was going to challenge Joanna with. After helping Tricia to bed, Joanna curled up on the couch.

  “Your picks, hotshot?” She held out her hand.

  Charley gave them to her. She stud
ied the sheet of paper and snorted at several of Charley’s choices. “You think the Rams will take the Colts?”

  “Have you seen their offensive line lately?” Charley asked.

  “Yes, and I disagree. And the Panthers over the Niners?”

  “They’re overdue.”

  Joanna raised an eyebrow. “And the Packers? I think you’re risking too much this week.”

  “One of us is about to risk a lot.” Charley fixed Joanna with what her friends called her dry ice stare.

  “What are you up to?” Joanna asked.

  “I’m proposing a new bet. How about a thousand dollars?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Her eyes widened, the familiar flash of shimmering green exciting Charley. “That’s serious money. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not betting that.”

  “Not to be paid all at once or even in cash.”

  Joanna narrowed her eyes. “I’ve never heard of a bet like this.”

  “If you win, I’ll pay out the thousand. But if I win, you have to take me out to dinner every Monday until the money is drawn down to zero.”

  “You little devil!”

  Charley laughed.

  “You’re going to turn our drink dates into dinners come hell or high water, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll give you the option of meeting my thousand, no dinners. So, what’ll it be? Hell, the thousand dollars, or high water, the dinners?”

  The look Joanna gave her could’ve melted steel. But Charley reveled in the heat behind it. “Are you doubting your own handicapping?” Charley teased her.

  A pink flush rose up Joanna’s neck.

  “Ah! Or is that blush an admission that my handicapping skills might be better than yours?”

  The pink blossomed into red. “Never,” Joanna said. She held out her hand. “High water.”

  Charley shook her hand, secure in the knowledge that Joanna, who could easily pay out that thousand dollars if she lost, wanted the dinners as much as she did. “I love dining out.” Charley sighed.

  “Oh, my God, are you a spoiled brat about everything?”