When she came downstairs Brooke was wearing her new red dress with the silver locket hooked around her neck.
“Where are your pearls?” Sylvia asked.
Brooke explained the significance of the locket and said that’s why she’d decided to wear it.
“That’s such a sweet idea,” Sylvia replied. “But the locket doesn’t really match. Why don’t you tuck it inside and wear the pearls today?”
Before noon the caterers arrived with turkeys, hams and tray after tray of appetizers. By two o’clock the house was filled with people, mostly clients or lawyers from the firm. They came dressed in suits, silk dresses and jewelry enough to weigh a camel down.
With each new arrival Sylvia snagged Brooke’s hand and tugged her over for an introduction.
“This is our darling granddaughter,” she’d say then start telling how Brooke looked exactly like her mama when she was that age.
“Having her with us is almost like having our Jennifer back again,” Sylvia said over and over again.
Once the full round of introductions was complete, Brooke and Drew became lost in the dialog about rulings, cases and political conundrums. In time they wandered out onto deck and sat in the lounge chairs. A good part of the afternoon was spent calling friends back home. Brooke called Ava, as well as Marta, Annie and Elizabeth. She wished each of them a Merry Christmas and told of what was happening in California.
“The water in the pool changes colors,” she told Annie, “and Grandma is having a big party to celebrate ’cause we’re here. It’s really nice, but I wish I was back home with you and the twins.”
Drew was scrolling through the news on his phone, but he heard the wistfulness in her voice. It wasn’t a full-out sadness, just a thread of melancholy that wrapped itself around a few words and told a story. Suddenly it seemed the visit to California had not been such a good idea after all.
For the two days following Christmas Sylvia didn’t go into the office but spent a good part of the day on the phone with her associates.
“Check Kilmer versus Horizon,” she’d say. “The judgment in that case clearly states…”
According to Sylvia very little went right if she were not available to place a guiding hand on the second-year associate’s shoulder.
Drew and Brooke swam in the pool and lounged in the sun. On the afternoon of the third day, he eased his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and peered across at Brooke.
“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I kind of miss being at home.”
“Me too,” she answered.
Later that afternoon he called the airline and changed their returning flight. They left for home the next day.
~ ~ ~
Had they left California a day or two earlier Drew would have met Elizabeth when they stopped by Memory House to say hi to Annie. After seeing Brooke’s locket and hearing of her fondness for this new friend, he looked forward to such a meeting. Unfortunately by then Liz had moved into her apartment.
Moving Forward
With the coming of the new year it seemed that everyone’s life got busier than before. Elizabeth left the apartment early and pored over the paperwork on her desk for an hour before the bank opened. She developed an instantaneous friendship with the assistant manager, Diane Carver, even though their lives were as different as day from night. Elizabeth was single and lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment while Diane had a large house, four children and a husband who wanted supper on the table at six-thirty, no earlier and no later.
After Harvey Mossberg, the previous manager, up and left without a word of warning, Diane had taken over handling all of his duties as well as her own. Seeing how efficiently she dealt with the task, the bank offered her the job on a permanent basis. She turned it down.
“It’s way too many hours for me,” Diane said. “I’ve got responsibilities at home and a family to think about.”
Elizabeth had none of those problems. She came in early and was almost always the last person to leave the bank. In the morning and evening she attended to the paperwork that landed on her desk but during the day she chatted with customers, introducing herself and thanking them for their business. A schedule crammed full of activity was precisely what she needed. As the days and weeks flew by the sorrow in her heart dissipated, and at times she could barely remember what it was that had once saddened her.
The apartment, although furnished nicely, was bare of any personal touches, so Elizabeth began adding knickknacks and throw pillows. On Saturdays she shopped the thrift store and came home carrying books with worn binders or hand-crocheted doilies. On Sundays she cleaned the apartment and rearranged things so they were more to her liking. She moved the comfy lounge chair over by the window so she could sit in the afternoon sun and read, then bought a bookcase to set alongside the chair.
Given the busyness of January, there was only a single Sunday when she had time enough to visit Annie at Memory House. She’d hoped that perchance Brooke would be there, but such was not the case. Like Elizabeth, Brooke had gotten caught up in the hustle bustle of the new year. Missus Kelly, the fourth grade teacher, believed that of all things to be taught nothing would be as helpful as vocabulary skills, so Brooke wasn’t babysitting that day. She was at home trying to learn the nuances of synonyms, antonyms, homonyms and idioms.
Although Elizabeth and Brooke didn’t see one another for the whole month of January, they continued to talk on the phone. Sometimes it was little more than a quick hello and goodbye. Other times it was long heartfelt conversations that dealt with problems of the day.
Twice Brooke asked her daddy if she might invite Miss Elizabeth to dinner some evening. Both times Drew answered, “Absolutely,” but the timing was never right.
The first time she mentioned it, Drew thought back to a time when he also had a Miss Elizabeth in his life. She was his second grade Sunday school teacher, a woman with silver hair a round face and a kindly smile. She handed out gold stars liberally and gave hugs for even the smallest achievement. He imagined Brooke’s friend was much the same.
“As soon as I get things up and rolling at the plant, we’ll have Miss Elizabeth to dinner,” he said. But the days rushed by, and with each one he got more and more caught up in his new life.
He had an excellent eye for color and clarity, and now with him on board Southfield’s business had grown by a whopping thirty percent. Customers no longer had to waste a day sitting in the lounge and waiting for the pressmen to come up with an acceptable color proof. They simply turned the task over to Drew, because his exacting standards were far more stringent than their own. Before January came to a close, the plant had added two more pressmen and an evening shift for machine maintenance.
Twice Brian Carson came out to visit the plant, and both times he left feeling justified in his decision to move Drew into this managerial role.
“You’re doing a great job,” he said, “but be careful you don’t get burnt out. Take time for yourself and your daughter. Get to know the community.”
The week after Brian’s second visit, Drew received an invitation to attend the first Thursday of the month chamber of commerce social mixer. It was touted as a friendly get together where members of the Burnsville, Dorchester and Wayland business communities could exchange business cards and get to know one another. “Green Valley Country Club, 7PM to 9PM” the invitation read.
Drew read the invitation then set it to the side of his desk, uncertain whether he’d be able to go. The question was always what would be on press that day and whether there might be problems requiring him to be available. Plus, there was Brooke to consider. Thursday was a school night, which meant a nine-thirty bedtime.
It was late in the afternoon when Kevin Harding, the plant foreman, brought in a proof of the Garden Depot flyer for Drew’s approval. As he dropped the proof in front of Drew he spotted the chamber of commerce invitation.
“You going?” he asked.
Drew had been studying the pr
oof, which to his eye looked a bit heavy on the blue, and glanced up with a quizzical look.
“Going where?” he asked.
“To the mixer on Thursday.”
Giving a one-shoulder shrug, Drew answered, “I haven’t decided. I’ll wait and see what’s happening here.”
“We get a lot of business from the local community, and getting known around town helps,” Kevin replied. “You’re the boss, but I think you should go.”
Still looking at the Garden Depot flyer, Drew said, “You need to pull back on the cyan. Maybe bring the yellow up plus one.”
Kevin nodded and tucked the proof under his arm. Switching back to the subject of the mixer he said, “I’m going. Last month I met Ted Bailey there, and now he’s promised us his spring catalog.”
“Really?”
Drew thought about it for a few seconds. He was hard pressed to come up with an actual reason for not going. It was a mere two hours; he could certainly get away for that long. Annie would be glad to take Brooke for the night, and if perchance she were unavailable he’d ask Hannah’s mom. It was unlikely anything problematic would happen at the plant, and if it did they could reach him on his cell phone. In any event he could swing by on his way home. More than it being good for business, the truth was Drew missed socializing with clients. It was the fun part of being a salesman.
Kevin was halfway to the door when Drew asked, “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” Kevin said with a grin. “I’ve been attending chamber events for years, so I’ll introduce you around.”
That evening when Drew stopped by Memory House to pick up Brooke he didn’t beep the horn. He parked in the driveway, then walked to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Once inside he sat and talked with Annie for almost a half-hour. He told her about the chamber of commerce event and said if she didn’t mind having Brooke for the evening, he’d like to go.
“We wouldn’t mind at all,” Annie replied. “She’s a great little helper, and the twins absolutely adore her.”
“I assure you she feels the same about them,” Drew said. Then he asked if Brooke’s new friend Miss Elizabeth might be around the evening of the event.
“She’s spoken so fondly of the woman, I’d love to meet her.”
“Oh, they’ve formed quite a bond,” Annie replied. “Brooke just naturally gravitated to Elizabeth, which is not at all surprising because she’s a lovely person.” She went on say that although it was an unusual friendship, it was quite obviously sincere.
Before Drew left, Annie said she would invite Elizabeth over the evening of the mixer.
“I’m certain you’ll enjoy meeting her,” she said.
After the twins were tucked into bed Annie called Liz and asked if she could come for dinner the following Thursday.
“Brooke will be spending the evening with us, and her dad will be stopping by to drop her off. He’d love to meet you.”
“Well, I’d enjoy meeting him too,” Liz replied. “Hold on, let me check my calendar.”
A few seconds of silence passed as she grabbed the phone and scrolled through her scheduled appointments. Then she huffed with disappointment.
“Oh, darn, I’m busy that evening. A business thing I can’t change.”
“Maybe next time,” Annie said.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “Maybe next time.”
There was just the tiniest sound of disappointment in her answer.
Keeper of the Scales
The Keeper of the Scales watched with chagrin. Lifting his gaze to a plain far beyond the landscape of his realm, he looked toward the future. It was still shadowed and gray, which meant nothing was yet ordained.
In the blink of an eye this could change. Once the future was decreed, it would appear in sharp lines and vivid colors. Then there would be no altering the course of events. For now there was a small window of time where he could not change but simply guide the destiny of those he watched over. It could be a few seconds or perhaps a few minutes. It would be less than a day, he was certain.
Although his position of greatness was one that required impartiality, there were certain individuals who touched the heart of the Keeper. Drew Bishop and Elizabeth Cunningham were two such people. Both lives had been weighted with sadness too heavy to be balanced by even the largest stone.
In the mountain of stones bequeathed him, the Keeper willed his hand to find the one he was searching for. The stone was a rarity, seldom seen and almost never used in a plan such as he had in mind.
He stretched his long fingers forth and plucked out a stone the color of a ruby. This stone was darker in color and with a density greater than any other. He lifted it into his hand and felt the weight. It was good. This stone could do what no other could.
He narrowed his eyes, and with all of his power concentrated into a single thought he called forth a bolt of lightning that struck the stone.
For a moment it burned hotter than the sun. The edges crumbled to dust as the stone began to take shape. Then with a thundering crack it split into two pieces. Each piece was shaped like one half of a heart.
It was as he’d willed it.
He placed one half of the heart on Drew Bishop’s scale and its matching counterpart on the scale that belonged to Elizabeth Cunningham. He could do nothing more. If the ruby stone failed to work, their destiny would be left to fate.
Thursday
Most days Drew wore a zippered leather jacket and an open collar shirt to the plant, but on the Thursday of the chamber of commerce meeting he left the house wearing his camelhair blazer and a burgundy print tie. For the first time in almost a year he’d pulled the jacket from the closet, and it felt good to be wearing it again.
Once he was in the plant he removed the jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, but the feeling of being dressed for an occasion remained with him. It was like the old feeling of walking into a customer’s office and knowing he was going to make a sale. It was a feeling of confidence. A feeling that something good was just over the horizon.
The day passed rather uneventfully, and at six-thirty he left with Kevin Harding. Confident that there would be no crisis during the next two hours, Drew rode with Kevin who would drop him off back at the plant at the end of the evening. Brooke was spending the night with Annie, so he’d have time to duck back into the plant and check that everything was indeed running smoothly.
When they arrived at the Green Valley Country Club the reception room was already filled to overflowing. They eased past a waiter carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres and joined a group of men standing near the entrance. Kevin slapped a friendly hand on the back of a man in the group then did a round of introductions.
“Drew is our new plant manager,” he said.
Jack Schroeder stuck out a hand. “Northern Virginia Electric. Glad to have you joining our group.”
There was some conversation about a tri-city summer festival the chamber was planning. Then they moved on to another group and another round of introductions. Chamber membership chairman Peter McMillan could talk a man into deafness, and once he discovered Drew was the plant manager at Southfield he started badgering him to print the Saint Andrew’s Sunday bulletin for free.
“Southfield doesn’t really do that kind of printing,” Drew said. “We’re mostly color work and longer runs.”
Of course nothing he said dissuaded McMillan, and in the course of the conversation Kevin spotted a friend and wandered off. For several minutes Drew stood there half listening and half scanning the room in search of Kevin.
That’s when he saw her.
She was standing on the far side of the room with her face turned toward him. He smiled, and he could swear she returned the smile. He pulled out the last business card in his pocket and handed it to McMillan.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “Call me next week, and we’ll talk about it.”
While McMillan stood there stuffing the business card into an already overcrowded wallet, Drew dis
appeared into the crowd. He eased his way past clusters of people and ignored the din of conversations. Halfway across the room he lost sight of her but continued in that direction. Moments later she reappeared.
Now she was turned sideways and he was looking at her profile. She laughed at something someone in the group said then wrinkled her nose and turned away. Then he saw only the back of her head with hair the color of autumn, a mix of browns and golds and coppers. A waiter with one last sea scallop on a tray offered it to him as he squeezed by but Drew shook his head and kept moving, seeing her, losing sight of her, then finding her again.
Then suddenly and yet not suddenly at all, he was standing there with his face turned to hers. He looked into her eyes, eyes that were the rich brown of melted chocolate, and was at a loss for words.
“You look so familiar,” he stammered. “Have we met somewhere before?”
Elizabeth gave a soft chuckle.
“I think if we had met before we would both remember it,” she said. She fixed her eyes on his, smiled and stuck out her hand. “Liz Cunningham, Heartland Bank.”
When Drew took her hand in his he felt a tremor in his heart. It was the kind of rumble felt moments before an earthquake.
“Tonight’s basket of cheer was donated by Joseph Rodolfo of Rodolfo’s Restaurant!” the emcee said over the loudspeaker just as Drew said his name. “So when you’re looking for good Italian food, remember Rodolfo’s.”
Elizabeth leaned in. “Sorry, was that Hugh Jessup?”
Drew laughed and shook his head.
“Drew Bishop,” he said, but the loudspeaker was crackling again.
“Drew?” Elizabeth repeated.
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