“I did, but I don’t know…”
Without another word, Mark turned and walked away. She stood, frozen, and watched him go. She didn’t move until he rounded the corner, then she got in her car, and drove off. She didn’t need to wait around for another crisis. Sam could find him. She was done.
* * * * *
“Quick thinking Mark,” Frank said, slapping Mark on the back and smiling at him the moment he walked into dinner. “The event couldn’t have been better and everyone is thrilled. I’ve already been complimented by three sponsors and they’re eager to host their own events with us.”
“Thanks Frank, but I didn’t—“ Mark protested, only to be interrupted.
“No, no, don’t get modest. This was a triumph tonight, especially with the circumstances.”
“Frank, listen to me. I couldn’t have done any of this without Lizzie. She saved the event. It was all her idea. I wouldn’t even—“
“Stop,” Frank cut him off and held up a hand. “She works for you so it’s your success. ”
Mark furrowed his brow. He’d never heard that, in fact, he’d always been told the opposite. When something went wrong, the boss took full responsibility and shielded his staff. But when something went right, he passed the praise on to his staff, he didn’t take credit for himself. And in this situation the success had been solely the work of Lizzie. He hadn’t been creative enough to think up a change with less than twenty minutes until service or prepared enough to have developed a plan in advance.
But Lizzie had. In fact for six weeks she’d been quizzing him about the contingency. He’d never thought that she’d derived a plan without him, although he should have. While he teased her about the binders and her need to have instant access to physical files, she shrugged off his comments and kept going about her business in her way. But now he understood that she her strength was thinking three steps ahead of any client including him.
Why hadn’t she let him flounder? Why didn’t she let his pig-headedness ruin him? Why step in and save the day?
“You’ve done excellent work here today,” Frank said.
“No, Frank, I must insist. Lizzie deserves the credit and she needs a raise. She’s not going to stay forever.”
“Girls like that are a dime a dozen. We could find another pretty young thing eager to work to the bone to prove herself. I don’t need people like that. I need managers. I need you.”
Mark knit his brows together. He doesn’t get it and we’re going to lose her. I’m going to lose her. He cleared his throat.
“I think dinner service is starting now, we should take our seats,” Mark told his boss, eager to get away.
“Great job again,” Frank said and turned to walk away.
Mark waited until Frank had wandered over to his table and begun a conversation with someone before he moved. Then he strode over to one of the catering staff and stood close to the man, like he was overseeing something. Within seconds, the wait staff filtered into the room carrying salads under covers on the shoulders and Mark slid out of the room the way he’d come in. He wanted to get out of there, he had to leave and process everything that had happened.
Walking down the corridor, Mark clenched and unclenched his hands into fists, anxious not to run into anyone else. He needed to think. Pushing open the door at the end of the hallway, he found himself on the beach. The storm had settled down and of course hadn’t produced any rain. The wind had been enough to change the course of the evening and maybe his direction. He wasn’t cut out for this, he thought as he walked along the path at the top of the beach towards his car. He couldn’t think on his feet at all. He’d even got tongue tied around Lizzie.
Why hadn’t he thanked her? Why hadn’t he told her what he had tried to tell Frank? He jumped into his car and blasted his music as he drove off. He didn’t know what to think about his actions, but he knew someone who would. Without a second thought, Mark drove straight to the Pier Village, parked in the alley, and let himself in through the back door of his buddy’s bar.
Sliding into the room, Mark crept along the perimeter, his eyes darting around looking for Phil. When his search turned up nothing, Mark walked out the way he came and climbed up the back stairs two at a time. He knocked twice on the apartment door and waited. Trish opened the door after a minute and gaped at him through the tiny gap.
“Hi Trish, is Phil around?” he asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stood outside the door.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at your big event? What are you doing here? It’s only nine?” Trish asked, each question coming in quick succession.
“Can I come in?” Mark asked, ignoring the mothering tone of voice she’d used.
Trish tilted her head to the side and considered for a second before opening the door wide and waving him in.
“He’s finishing up with Charlie, he’ll be out soon,” Trish said, shutting the door behind him.
Mark nodded and she turned to walk past him into the kitchen. He didn’t move. Mark surveyed the scene around him, the domestic bliss as Trish started washing up the night’s dishes in the sink. He took in a deep breath and smelled garlic bread sitting on the table, still laden with two wine glasses and half a bottle of red. He strained to hear the deep murmurs of Phil’s voice as he sang his son to sleep in his arms.
“Do you want anything? Coffee? Water?” Trish asked.
Mark shook his head and looked down at his feet.
“Do you want to sit down?” Trish asked again.
Mark looked up.
“You know you’re my friend too, right?” Trish asked, rinsing a big stockpot and setting it on the dish drain next to her. “I can listen too.”
Mark grinned. “I know.”
Trish nodded at him and they both turned as a door down the end of the hall opened and shut. Phil padded towards them, his thick white socks muffling the sounds of his footsteps against the wooden floor.
“What are you doing here?” Phil whispered as he approached Mark. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the event all night?”
“I couldn’t stay, I had to get out. I don’t know what I’m doing there,” Mark said, his words tumbling over themselves in haste.
“Okay, come on, I’ve got a few minutes before they need me downstairs, let’s talk,” Phil said.
Phil turned to look at Trish over his shoulder. She turned off the water and wiped her hands on her jeans to dry them.
“I’m going. But don’t think your conversation is confidential,” Trish warned them both.
“I know,” Mark replied, offering a weak smile. “But even though he tells you everything, it’s easier for me to just talk to him about it.”
Trish nodded, walked over to give her husband a kiss on the cheek, and then turned and retreated down the hall.
“Come on, sit,” Phil gestured to the dining table.
Mark pulled out a chair and sank into it. Phil sat opposite him, rested his chin on his elbow on the tabletop, and waited.
Mark cleared his throat. “Everything fell apart.”
“So you’re fired and that’s why you’re here?”
“No, what? I barely started my story. Let me talk first and then you can talk.”
“Fine, go ahead,” Phil agreed, gesturing for Mark to continue.
“Everything fell apart and I was completely immobilized. I had no idea what to do or where to even look. One minute the event is great and the concert is awesome and everyone is having a fantastic time. And the next, the wind has picked up and everything is being tossed around like we’re in a giant snow globe. I didn’t know what to do. I gawked and gaped and didn’t do anything. But Lizzie did.”
Phil nodded along so Mark continued.
“She was kind of amazing. She jumped in and took charge of everything. And she acted so calm and so smooth and everyone listened and followed her directions. Nobody questioned her because they all trust her. They know how hard she works so they work hard. I’d been teasing her abo
ut all her visits to the site but now I get it. She wasn’t micromanaging. She was building relationships and learning how they worked over there so she could utilize their staff in the best way possible.”
“That’s awesome. Good for her,” Phil added.
Mark nodded. He agreed.
“So –from what you’re saying—she saved everything, so why are you here? And why are you moping around in my kitchen? Shouldn’t you two be out celebrating your success?”
“She stayed longer than she needed to,” Mark continued without addressing any of Phil’s questions. “I told her she could go and when she did, I blew her off. I didn’t thank her. She saved me and I didn’t say anything. I walked away and went inside to the kudos of my boss. I couldn’t handle it. I tried to tell him the truth of what happened and he didn’t care. He does not like her and no matter what he won’t see that she should be the one in this job not me.”
“Weren’t you the only real candidate for the job? That’s what you told me,” Phil replied.
“I thought so until I met her. And now I can tell you, I should be working for her.”
“I want to meet her,” Phil told him.
“What? Why?” Mark asked, his voice cracking on the second word.
“You keep bringing her up. There’s something about her that keeps drawing you in. I want to meet her before you two get serious.”
“It’s not getting serious. It’s nothing but professional,” Mark growled.
“So you dance with all of your colleagues?”
Mark groaned and put his face in his hands. Why had he told him that? Why did he tell Phil anything? Phil had a memory like an elephant, no slight, no argument, no wrongdoing was ever forgotten. Phil might not mention it, but he remembered it. Mark lifted his head out of the pitying gesture and looked directly at his best friend. Phil might challenge him and question him, but he’d accept him too.
“What am I doing? Why am I here? Why am I doing this job?” Mark asked in rapid succession.
“Because this is your home.”
“It’s never been my home. I wanted to get out of winter and this was the transfer that would do it. That was nearly a decade ago,” Mark retorted.
“You used to talk about staying here forever,” Phil corrected him.
“But now I just need to get away from everything. I can’t be in this job. I can’t fight anymore. I don’t think I have anything worth fighting for.” Mark looked down at his hands. He needed a break from Phil’s unwavering gaze. Sometimes he swore Phil could see right through him.
“Sounds like you’d fight for her.”
“But I hate that I have to fight for her. She’s amazing and dedicated and hardworking. Why Frank doesn’t see that? I don’t get it.”
“What would you do? Where would you go?”
“The beach.”
“You already live at the beach.”
Mark sighed. “Do I?”
They both fell silent. Usually Mark liked the quiet. But sometimes with Phil, stillness unnerved him. Mark shifted in his chair, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable.
“I think we both know what this is about but neither one of us wants to be the one to say it,” Phil said at last.
“It’s…” Mark stopped himself. “Can I trust someone again?”
“Yes, what happened to you sucks. It was awful. But none of that reflects on you and you can’t hide yourself away. You can’t be so scared of getting hurt again that you miss a chance to be happy, to have everything you want. And we both know your happiness has nothing to do with the job.”
Mark nodded. He knew Phil was right, but putting himself out there again, letting himself be totally vulnerable to another person was a tough decision to make. He’d trusted someone with his heart for so long and he’d never suspect that he was being used.
An alarm sounded on a cell phone, Phil pulled his out of his pocket and turned it off, putting the phone on the table.
“I have to go downstairs. But we can talk again, if you’re still around? Or are you going to sneak back over to clean up?” Phil asked.
“No, I’m done over there. If I get found out, I get found out. But I can’t go back tonight. Besides, I’m seeing her tomorrow for her big tap performance. I need to work out how I’m going to apologize.”
Phil nodded and got up from the table, Mark followed suit. Phil opened the door and waved Mark through, shutting the door quietly behind them as they jogged in tandem down the stairs.
“Remember, you can never go wrong with I’m sorry.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think I can remember that, good night. And thanks for listening.”
“Always.”
Mark turned and walked out the back door, hopped in his car, and headed home.
Chapter Thirteen
Lizzie held the edge of the flimsy black curtain in her hand. I could probably look through it. But that seemed to conspicuous for spying on the crowd gathered in the colonnade of the Casino in the Pier Village. Scanning through the small audience seated in white folding chairs on the tiled floor, Lizzie only recognized a handful of faces. A few confused tourists had wandered into the audience along with the remaining husbands of the Senior-itas. Of course Marie would insist on our first official, public performance being as visible as possible.
“Come on, please, please, please,” she stopped pleading the moment she spotted Mark.
Any man in a suit stood out in a sea of polo shirts and shorts. Lizzie locked eyes and caught her breath, frozen in place. The corner of his mouth quirked and she dropped the curtain, the polyester swishing across her feet and falling back into place. Her stomach clenched. Really? He showed up?
She fanned herself with her hands and took in several deep breaths. How had the open-air room gotten hotter in only a few seconds? She looked overhead and saw the fans whirring, but didn’t feel any of their breeze. She closed her eyes and focused on the alluring scent of wisteria that wafted in the salty air.
“Do we have a big crowd?” Rose asked.
Her words snapped Lizzie out of her reverie. Rose didn’t wait for an answer. She walked over to peer around the curtain for herself, gently pushing Lizzie to the side.
“Oh good he came,” her friend exclaimed.
Mark. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She didn’t know if her pulse raced from excitement or anger. Why would he come after…?
Shaking her head, she looked down at her star-spangled cigarette girl costume. She sparkled from the pillbox hat at a jaunty angle on her head to the red sequined bows Marie had insisted they all hot glue permanently onto their tap shoes. At first, Lizzie had liked the costume with its military-sequel lapels and figure skater style skirt. She’d even thought maybe a city official might stumble onto their performance and be so impressed that the group would be invited to perform before the fireworks on the Fourth of July. But now, preparing to take the stage before Mark and an audience of forty strangers, she wasn’t so sure.
“You look green and red all at the same time. What’s wrong?” Rose asked, putting the back of her hand on Lizzie’s forehead to take her temperature.
“I’m fine, I just can’t believe that he’s here,” Lizzie whispered.
Lizzie fussed with the hemline, pulling the springy spandex down in vain, and blushing furiously at her futile efforts. Was the skirt too short? Grazing a couple inches below her butt, the skirt hit her just where a mini would. But she’d never wear a mini with fishnet stockings like she did in costume.
“Isn’t Mark showing up a good thing?” Rose asked as she dropped her hand.
“No. He’s my boss.”
“From the way you talk, he works for you.”
Lizzie grimaced. She had said that, hadn’t she? Her words seemed so uncharitable and petty. She’d come to think of the pair of them as a team. But does he?
“Don’t give me that face,” Rose interrupted her thoughts. “Give me another reason that you’re upset.”
Biting her lip, L
izzie didn’t reply. Before the concert, she’d have been excited to see him show up to support her. They hadn’t spent any time together outside of work since he’d moved in to the office. But now? Exhaling, she remembered his inability to move, to delegate, to carry on with the event as the weather changed all their carefully laid plans. She’d been expecting something to go wrong. His reaction had caught her by surprise.
“Look honey, why would a grown man come to a dance recital?” Rose asked. “For his daughter or his wife. Think about it.”
Lizzie shook her head. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you yesterday, after I got home. The cocktail reception and dinner didn’t go so well.”
Rose furrowed her brow. “Really? Marie was at the concert and at the dinner. She said both were lovely.”
“Because at the last minute I had to scramble and pull the set-up off the beach. I had to save the event and he didn’t have anything to say to me.”
“What did you expect him to say? Isn’t this your job?”
Closing her eyes, she remembered how he turned his back on her after she’d raced to rescue the day. I did his job for him. Heck, I’ve been doing everything for him. I had better get a raise or… A bitter taste filled her mouth as anxiety and nerves threatened her stomach and composure. Opening her eyes to look at her concerned friend, Lizzie nearly choked sucking in a deep breath.
“No. Taking charge of his event and calling the shots is not my job. I had to scramble. I had to make all of the decisions. And he just stood by. I wanted a thank you,” Lizzie offered. “Or, honestly, even if he was mad that I’d overstepped my role, I’d have preferred he yelled at me. Instead he said nothing and I’m feeling…” she trailed off.
“What?”
“Confused. Lost. Maybe I’m starting to think about what Patrick wants me to do,” Lizzie said, raising her hands up in frustration.
“Stop talking about what Patrick wants. You don’t want to go back to school, you want to stay here,” Rose asserted.
“But if I go back to school, at least then I can get the estate resolved.”
“And you’d leave.”
“What’s my other option Rose?” Lizzie looked down at her feet.
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