Call Me Lydia

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Call Me Lydia Page 28

by MaryAnn Myers


  "Someone phoned me this morning around five, saying you were out to make sure the company folded."

  Tony shook his head in amazement. "Single-handed? Damn, Will!"

  Reed sighed regretfully. "I guess this whole thing's got me paranoid."

  Lydia glanced from one to the other and started thinking of something else. "I've got to go to accounting," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

  The room fell quiet for a moment after she left. "How did you get out of jail?"

  "Lydia bailed me out."

  Reed half smiled, shaking his head. He should've known. "Where was Frank?"

  Tony pulled a chair out and sat down. "Out of town."

  "Why didn't you call me?"

  Tony laughed, propping his elbow on the table. "Why? So you could let me rot?"

  Reed shrugged. "I could've had Lydia all to myself that way."

  Tony sat back and crossed his arms, smiling. "Yeah? And you'd have had hell to pay when I got out."

  Now it was Reed who laughed. "Friends to the end, be we rivals or not. Right...?"

  Wrong. Tony's smile faded. "You just don't get it, do you?"

  Reed swallowed.

  "You think this is a contest between us, but we're seeing two different Lydia’s here."

  Reed looked at him. "What's the distinction?"

  Tony hesitated. He wasn't telling Reed to back off, as Reed had done with him. He was just telling him how he felt, something he didn't quite understand himself. "What I see in her, you don't. What you see in her, I don't even like."

  Reed smiled. Tony wasn't one to explain himself, so for him to even make an attempt meant a lot. That's when Lydia came back in.

  "The strangest thing just happened," she said, looking dubious as she sat down. "And I do mean strange. Really strange."

  Oh God, here she goes again, Tony thought.

  "Does anyone have a cigarette?"

  "No." He shook his head. "Besides, you quit. Remem­ber? Now what strange thing happened?"

  "I was just in the ladies room, and in the next cubicle, stall..." She paused. "Or whatever you want to call it."

  Tony shifted his weight impatiently. "Lydia..."

  "In the next cubicle," she said, repeating herself, which had Tony burying his face in his hand and sighing. "There was this woman. At least I think she was a woman. She had on women's shoes, and her slacks looked like a woman's. And of course, she appeared to be sitting down. Only that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

  Tony looked at her in disbelief. "No, and since we're all aware of that, why don't you just skip ahead a little."

  Lydia scowled at him. "Why do you always have to have things your way?"

  "Because I have a lot to do. Now if you want to get to the point, fine, otherwise..." He motioned to the door, as if he was going to get up and walk out if she didn't.

  "But this is the point," she said. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. This woman smelled."

  "She smelled? And that's the point?"

  Lydia nodded emphatically. "Yes, because you see, she smelled of English Leather."

  Reed looked amazed. "She did?"

  "Yes."

  Tony buried his face in his hand again and looked up, shaking his head. "This is supposed to be significant?"

  Reed answered. "Yes. It's been somewhat of a mystery as to who around here wears it."

  Tony looked at Lydia. "What? You mean you haven't lined everybody up yet and smelled them as they walked by?"

  Lydia and Reed laughed.

  "I know it sounds insane," she said. "But I get this strange feeling every time I smell it."

  Tony smiled. Insane or not, she really had a hold on him. "Maybe you're just allergic to it."

  "Tony, come on, this is serious."

  Reed nodded in agreement.

  "Fine," Tony said, standing up. "But I've got a shop to run right now, so...."

  "It's important," Lydia said. "Because I've smelled it in accounting and then in other places. Originally I thought it might be Dan Morris, but I’ve smelled it since, really strong too, like it was recent, especially at the computer desk."

  "Maybe it's someone who works there."

  "No, it can't be," Lydia said. "It's just Sylvia now and I've checked her out. She wears Vanderbilt, Jan wears Jasmine, you smell spicy, Bill smells like soap, Carlson stinks, and Reed wears British Sterling." It sounded ridiculous, she knew that, and even laughed. "So that's why when I smelled this woman, after wondering all this time…."

  Tony stood there, just looking at her. Here he was, set up, jailed, and sprung, watching every move everyone around him was making…and she’s wondering about a cologne. "I'm going to let you two handle this," he said, walking to the door.

  "Tony, wait! There's one more thing. You can't cash your paycheck."

  Tony looked back, about to ask why, but Reed beat him to it. "Why not?"

  "Because I want to allow the accrued vacation amounts to the employees we let go. And if I do that, I'm short."

  "How short?" Reed asked.

  "Well, with both of your checks uncashed, I think I'll be okay."

  Reed cocked an eyebrow. "Both?"

  Lydia nodded with a smile. "Just until Monday. What's one day?"

  Tony laughed, shaking his head as he walked out, and Reed stood up to leave also. He hesitated. "Lydia...."

  Looking into his eyes, she sensed what he was about to say. "Reed, don't, okay?"

  He held up his hands. "Go ahead, read my mind. I don't care. What's important is that I warn you again. Because you don't know what you're getting into."

  Lydia felt the blood drain from her face.

  "Tony's my best friend," he said. "And I feel like I'm turning on him here, but I don't want to see you get hurt. But the way he is with women, you're going to. I can almost guarantee it."

  Lydia managed a faint smile, as if to say, thanks - I appre­ciate your concern but I don't want to hear anymore - and when he left, she phoned Sharon.

  "Dinner was a disaster, Lydia. A real disaster."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He still wants me to have an abortion."

  "What? What happened to 'I love you let's work this out' ?"

  "That was just a pretense. What he wanted was to offer a compromise of sorts. He says he wants to marry me and that we can do it right away, but that he's just not ready for a baby right now. He thinks we ought to have one five years from now."

  "Gee, did you ask him if he had a particular month in mind?"

  "No, but I wish I'd thought of that."

  Lydia sat back, thinking not only of Brian, but of Tony, and of Reed's warning as well. "Sometimes I hate men."

  "Me too."

  Lydia drew a breath and sighed. "So what happened after that?"

  "Nothing. I walked out and called a cab. I tried you first, but there wasn't any answer."

  "I wasn't home," Lydia said, remembering how magical the evening felt, in spite of the circumstances. "I'll have to tell you all about it when we have more time."

  "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

  Lydia chuckled. "Telling you all about it, I guess."

  "How about if I pick up some steaks to grill?"

  "I'll get them, it's my turn. I'll see you around seven." Lydia phoned her father next to tell him about his doctor's appointment, saying she wanted to go with him and to pick her

  up at one. Then she went up to accounting.

  * * *

  When John arrived, Lydia was still at the computer. As he watched her from doorway, a lump formed in his throat. Never was there a father more proud than he was of her. She was his life. His life entirely. Even now, as he contemplated death.

  Lydia looked up and saw him. "Hi! You're early!"

  He smiled, and Lydia walked over and kissed him on the cheek. "Dad, do you remember Sylvia?"

  "Yes, I do," he said, waving to her. "Good morning."

  Sylvia waved back.

  "My purse is downstairs," Ly
dia said, as they started out. "I'll get it and then we'll go."

  John said he'd walk with her, and at the elevator, he told her he'd had "An offer on the place."

  "From who?"

  The elevator doors opened, and they boarded. "I don't know," he said, sounding distant. "It came through a broker."

  "What did you tell them?"

  "I told them it wasn't for me to decide, that the business was no longer mine."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's yours, dear."

  Lydia looked at him. The business was going to be hers, that's what he should have said, not that it was hers now. "But...?"

  "And I want you to know that I'll support any decision you make, whatever you choose to…."

  Lydia held her hands up. She didn't need this. She was under enough pressure as it was. "Why would a broker call you? I mean, isn't our financial situation common knowledge?”

  "I don't know."

  The elevator stopped, and they got off. "Do you remember the broker's name?"

  "No."

  Lydia would have liked to have known, just out of curios­ity, but didn't push it, and they walked on to the conference room.

  John commented on how nice the furniture looked, but Lydia's mind was elsewhere.

  "Why don't we go down to the shop for a few minutes?" she said. She wanted to tell Tony something she'd forgotten earlier. "I need to talk to the foreman before I leave."

  John objected, but Lydia persisted. "Besides, I think it'd be good for the employees to see you every once in a while. God only knows how little faith they have in me."

  John went along reluctantly at first, but once they were out in the shop, his attitude changed remarkably. He smiled at people he knew, stopping to talk here and there, watching certain phases of the machining, and actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

  He and Tony had never met, so when Lydia finally tracked him down, she introduced them, and they shook hands.

  "I apologize for not meeting you sooner," John said, with a distinguished smile. "I understand you're doing a fine job. According to Will, we can't do without you. He calls you our key employee."

  Tony smiled modestly, blushing somewhat, and Lydia leaned close to her father. "Dad, Tony's the one we uh…helped out last night."

  "I know, dear. George told me. He told me all about it."

  Someone down the aisle called out Tony's name then. Tony turned, saying he'd be right there, and with that, John's attitude regressed. He felt like he was in the way.

  "You go on ahead," he told Tony. "Lydia and I have to leave now anyway."

  Tony nodded, and they shook hands again.

  "I do hope you get your personal matters straightened out soon," John said. "I wouldn't want it to interfere with the enormous task you have on your hands here."

  Tony smiled politely, though he had to wonder why John didn't associate one situation with the other.

  Lydia was wondering the same thing as they walked away and was almost to the door when she remembered what she'd come down there for in the first place. She excused herself and hurried back to where Tony was.

  "I forgot about this earlier," she said, up close and with her back turned so no one could hear. "That woman I was telling you about, the one in the ladies room, what was really odd about her was that she cleared her throat like a man."

  Tony didn't laugh at this.

  "An old man," Lydia said, patting her chest and trying to imitate it. "You know how they sound."

  Tony nodded and glanced down the aisle at her father. "What time will you be back?"

  "Around three or so."

  * * *

  In the limousine, and as George pulled out onto the highway, Lydia agonized over how to tell her father about the type of doctor they were going to see. Her father's voice startled her.

  "I talked to Bob Miller yesterday."

  "Oh?"

  "He called me at home."

  "What did he want?"

  "I'm not sure." John leaned his head back and looked out his window. "He said he just wanted to talk."

  Lydia thought about the six or seven messages she'd received from him. "Is he still out of town?"

  "I don't know, he didn't say. Why?"

  Lydia shrugged and looked out her window. "No reason, I guess." Several minutes passed. "Dad, about the doctor you're going to see. I have to tell you…."

  John reached over somberly and patted her knee. "It's all right, dear. I know."

  The doctor's waiting room looked like someone's den, furnished in early American with soft lighting and music, and they were greeted by a receptionist dressed as casually as if she lived there.

  "You can go right in, Mr. Merchant," she said, smiling as she motioned to a door on her right. "Dr. Granger is expecting you."

  John looked at Lydia and managed a smile, but his eyes were full of fear. Lydia nodded reassuringly, and when the door closed behind him, she sat down, biting at her trembling bottom lip.

  "May I get you a glass of water or maybe some coffee?" the receptionist asked.

  Lydia wiped her eyes and shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm fine." She reached for a magazine to focus on. "I'm fine."

  About a half-hour later, the receptionist showed her into the doctor's office, where she was asked to wait. After a few minutes, Dr. Granger came in and introduced herself, with a quick yet firm handshake.

  "Your father has some problems."

  Lydia nodded.

  "However…."

  Lydia searched her eyes. However what?

  "I’ve never run across anyone quite like him before. For all practical purposes, he seems to be fine, aside from his grief over your mother's death."

  "I would agree," Lydia said hesitantly. "If he were acting normal about it, but..."

  "Normal is a tricky word," Dr. Granger said. "Especially in my profession."

  Lydia misread this to mean that she didn't think there was anything wrong with her father. Her voice cracked, "He's been doing jumping jacks on my mother's grave in a dark suit. Is that normal?"

  Dr. Granger shook her head. "No. And since your secre­tary had his medical records sent over by courier and I've had a chance to look at them briefly, I've…."

  Tears trickled down Lydia's face. "But Dr. Jones says he's fine, physically, so I don't understand. If it's not that, and you say…."

  Dr. Granger handed her a tissue and smiled sympatheti­cally. "I didn't mean to imply your father wasn't in need of some help. He is. And he agrees."

  "Then you're going to take him on as a patient?"

  Dr. Granger nodded.

  * * *

  On the way back to the plant, John talked enthusiastically about his appointment. It was as if they'd been to see an old friend. When they arrived, he hugged Lydia tightly. It was a sweet, sweet moment, one that offered promise. Things were going to be okay now. She just knew it. Then she walked around to the side of the building and saw Tony standing by her car.

  "Tony?"

  He turned, startled, and with a strange expression on his face, walked toward her.

  "What were you doing?" she asked.

  He forced a smile. "Nothing. I was just looking. Nice car. You shouldn't leave the top down though."

  "I had to." Lydia glanced past him. "It's still wet. I parked it there so it would be in the sun all day and maybe dry out a little."

  Tony nodded and took her by the arm, ushering her toward the building. The urgency in the way he did this made her stop and look back.

  "There's something wrong, isn't there?"

  Tony shook his head and tugged at her arm. "No, now come on, let's go inside."

  Lydia pulled free, wanting to see for herself, and when Tony turned to try to stop her, his knee buckled.

  "Lydia, wait! Don't!"

  Too late. At her car, Lydia gasped in horror and backed up, clutching her chest. In the driver's seat lay a dead dog. Bloody, dismembered, and decomposing.

  "Oh my God!" She gagged, turning
with her hands to her mouth, and pushed off Tony as she made her way over to the side of the building. Fortunately there was nothing in her stomach.

  Tony gave her a moment, then walked over regretfully, shaking his head. "If you'd listened to me, Lydia, you would have been spared that."

  Lydia looked up, trembling. "Who would do such a thing, Tony? And why?"

  "I don't know. Bill came in and told me about it. He said he smelled it when he walked by."

  The smell. Lydia would never forget it, or the eyes...empty sockets...the maggots. "This is really starting to scare me you know, because…." She brought her hands to her mouth, clenching her fists and biting at her knuckles. "Because I don't know what to do. I don't. Oh my God, what am I gonna do?"

  Tony reached for her, but she pushed his hands away. "No! I have to figure out what to do!"

  Tony gripped her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "No you don't! All you have to do is go inside!"

  "But you don't understand," she said, talking fast, her eyes wild and frantic. "I'm always going to see that. It's never going to go away. It never does, Tony. It doesn't. It never goes away."

  "It will. Now go inside. I'll have it cleaned up."

  Lydia shook her head, pleading desperately with him. "No! Don't you see? You can't clean it up! It'll always be there! Every time I look it'll be there. You're not listening to me, Tony! You have to listen to me! Please...you have to listen to me."

  "I am listening, Lydia! I just don't know what you want me to do."

  "I want you to get rid of it," she said, her voice low and throaty. "That, the car, everything. I don't ever want to see it again. Just get rid of it. Have it towed out of here, whatever, I don't care. Just get rid of it!"

  "Lydia…."

  "Tony, please. I can't do it myself. I need you to do this for me. Say you'll do it for me. Please."

  Tony hesitated, swallowing. "All right, give me your keys."

  Lydia fumbled in her purse for them.

  "Now please, go inside."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lydia went straight to accounting and buried herself in the computer data she'd been working on earlier, then phoned their accounting firm, reaching a Mr. Martin this time, and informed him of their situation.

  "Are you serious?"

 

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