by K L Finalley
Felicia explained, "I don't know. Mama says she hasn't played in front of people since Dexter died. It was the last thing the two of them did together, but, if she doesn't think you're listening, you can catch her playing. You just have to be quiet."
Mallory stood still in Felicia's doorframe with her and Xavier. Jacqueline played a piece of a classical song, then she stopped. Then, out of nowhere, she started another song. Mallory knew it, but she couldn't place the name. Jacqueline had slowed the tempo; yet, Mallory knew the song. Lyrics started to fill her mind. She tried as she as hard as she could, but she couldn't place the name. She turned to Felicia and said, "What's the name of that song? It's on the tip of my..."
Then, Zoe bolted of the steps. Mallory tried to stop her, but she couldn't reach her in time. She ran up the steps, past her mother, past Felicia, past Xavier and into the room with Jacqueline. The music stopped abruptly. The adults saddened. Sheryl came to the end of the stairs. She walked up a few steps and stopped. The house was silent. Then, they heard the hushed words of an eight-year-old girl. They couldn't make out what she was saying, but they knew Jacqueline was responding. Then, Zoe left the room and ran down the stairs.
On her way back down the stairs, she ran into Sheryl. She said, "Jax told me to come and ask you to help me. She's been teaching me the words to this song and I don't know them all. Will you help me? Jax says you used to sing it to her when she was little."
Before Sheryl could answer, the old piano started again. Sheryl lowered her head. She smiled to herself as she remembered singing them with her once young daughter. She grabbed Zoe's hand, looked down in her piercing blue eyes, and counted one, two, three to capture Jacqueline's rhythm. Then, her voice filled the house. "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." Zoe didn't sing. She just climbed the stairs at Sheryl's side. "He is tramplin' out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored." Mallory was singing along, but she didn't realize that she was. "He hath loosed the fateful lightnin' of His terrible swift sword." Zoe and Sheryl entered the small room. Zoe sat by Jacqueline on the piano bench. "His truth is marchin' is on!" Jacqueline played several progressions. Her mother harmonized as she did. The others clapped and stood in the room with her. Happy to finally be present, Mallory stood behind Jacqueline and kissed the top of her head.
After twenty minutes of chords and runs, Jacqueline stopped playing. She kissed Zoe's cheek and sent her off to bed. "You can still sing, Mom."
"You can still play, Q."
"Wanna take it on the road?"
Sheryl swatted her with the kitchen towel that rested on her shoulder and said, "We see how that worked out for me before. Good night, y'all." When she left, the rest of the family resigned to their rooms as well. Jacqueline looked inside the upper panel.
Mallory sat on the bench where Zoe had sat. "You played in front of everyone."
"I did."
"Where'd that come from?" Mallory asked.
"I don't know," Jacqueline said as she inspected the piano.
"What'd Zoe say to you?"
"What's the next line? I've been trying to teach it to her for a while. She heard me playing it downstairs and ran upstairs, because she couldn't remember the next line. I was curious if Mom would sing it for her. That's how I learned it."
"And, she belted it out."
"Oh, yeah. She's got natural pipes. Imagine that in a car. She can quiet it down, but if she does it all the way live, you'll wanna be outside."
"It's amazing."
"Yeah, it is."
"So, are we taking the piano?" Mallory asked as she ran her hand over the keys.
"You told me we should."
"What do you think?"
"I think you had a good point," Jacqueline admitted.
"It sounds good."
"It needs work, but for a hundred and fifteen years old, she ain't doin' so bad." Jacqueline closed the upper panel.
"What?"
"This is a Price and Teeple upright. It's a hand carved oak piano. Father Time is on each leg and there's a griffin up by the panel. See 'em. This is a turn of the century piano. My grandmother got it as an antique. And, I was a kid when she got it, so, she's just getting older and older," Jacqueline pointed out the features she'd mentioned.
"Oh, yeah. We have to take it with us."
"Well, not today, but we'll come back for it. I'll get Elet to help me load it into the back of his truck and have it serviced in Tampa. Then, they can bring it to the house. Well, when we get one."
"When we get one," Mallory echoed.
"I'm exhausted. Let's go sleep in my childhood bed and check something off my bucket list..." Jacqueline winked. She held her hand out and waited for Mallory to take it.
CHAPTER THREE
Mallory parked her luxury sedan in the parking lot in front of the postmodern office space. Gathering her phone and her briefcase, she slipped from its comfortable, leather seats. While she was wearing her professional pin-striped black pants and a white blouse combination, a pair of red heels peeked from under her pants' legs. Before she closed the car door, she reached back in and retrieved the most important accessory to her ensemble, her red cardigan, and threw it and her briefcase's strap over her shoulder. She was ready to march into WMIM.
The building was a functional work of art. Made of glass and steel, it didn't sit downtown with the classic skyscrapers of industry. Instead, it was in the commercial area of the county, surrounded by warehouses and industrial parks. As she entered the glass doors, she walked around levels, like the ones she and Jacqueline walked after a game at Tropicana Field. Each gave her the option to enter a floor or continue spiraling upwards. She cycled around the structure for two levels. When she entered, she passed through motion-sensing glass doors that opened onto her floor. Upon entering the floor, she navigated through the sea of stainless steel desks that were laid out in front of her. The click of her heels announced that she had arrived.
Good Morning, Mallory filled the room. In the past few months, she had stopped replying. Most people received a head nod; some received a smile. There were too many good mornings, too many acknowledgments, too many people to greet all of them. She wondered if they thought that was rude of her. She wondered if they found her arrogant. She hadn't intended it to be rude, but it was nearly impossible to say good morning to everyone. She would have continued along this line of thought if Hannah hadn't caused it to end.
"Morning," Hannah said. Hannah Jensen had been one of Mallory's staff writers at the Tampa Sun Tribune. She had a great eye and Mallory loved her work ethic, so when Mallory decided to leave the Sun she offered Hannah a job. And, of course, Hannah took the opportunity. At five foot three, she was a small woman in stature. Her average weight on her small frame had made her appear obese; and, that was truly unfair.
"Good morning, Hannah. How's things?" Mallory asked.
"You want the truth?"
"Is it a shit storm already?" Mallory replied as she turned into her office. Using her body for leverage, she pressed against her heavy glass door. She dropped her briefcase into the white leather chair next to the door and slipped on her cardigan. That marked the start of her day. "Okay, let's hear it."
As the Assistant Program Director, Hannah intercepted problems and tried to resolve them in Mallory's stead. This morning, she had been unable to resolve one. "The intro music."
"What about it?" Mallory removed her briefcase from the chair and placed it on the credenza behind her desk. She began unpacking for the day.
"The composer never gave us legal rights to it. We are being charged."
"So, we were renting the intro music?" Mallory rubbed the vein in her head and sat down in desk chair.
"Yeah, kinda. Anyhow, he's heard about the show possibly becoming syndicated and wants to renegotiate."
"Well, of course, he does," Mallory said. Swiveling in her chair, she tilted back and crossed her legs. "Request a copy of the original contract from legal. Let's review what the original agreement was. We'l
l see if there's any indication of when he's eligible to negotiate before we proceed. Anything else?"
"You have got a morning meeting with Misty and Chase Munro at ten. Then, there's a meeting with you and her and Nate at lunch. And, you have a staff meeting this afternoon."
"You know, you're not my secretary. You don't have to keep up with my schedule."
"I know. But, things overlap." Hannah stopped looking at her notes and asked the question she, and everyone else wanted to know, "Do you think we're going to be picked up?"
"Never can tell," Mallory didn't want to get Hannah's hopes up any more than she wanted to allow herself to get her hopes up. Mallory was out on a limb, but her limb was less shaky than Hannah's. If things didn't work out at WMIM, Jacqueline could support them. But, Hannah had no Jacqueline to support her or her kids. Trying to change the subject, she asked, "How was your weekend?"
"Nothing amazing. A lazy one," Hannah replied. "What'd you guys do?"
"I met Jacqueline's family."
Hannah's interest was piqued. "Finally! How are they? Did they like you? Do you like them?"
Mallory pulled forward like what she was going to share a secret. "They're nothing like her. It's really odd. They don't really look like her or act like her. It's like she was adopted."
"That happens with some families. If you see me with my mom, I look just like her. If you see me with my dad, you think he's a stranger," Hannah said.
"I think that's them. I think she takes after her father's side. Too weird."
"Do you like them?"
"I think so. I think they aren't sure about me. Everything felt okay, but it felt like they were trying really hard." Mallory crossed her legs and waved her right one in the air. "You know, she's never brought anyone home, so she shows up with someone and they have no idea what to think."
"She shows up with a white girl and her kid," Hannah pointed out nonchalantly.
"A white girl who has a kid and who announced that we're selling her condo and moving into a place together. Take that," Mallory swung in the air like a prize fighter.
Hannah laughed. "They hate you. They talked about you the minute you left."
"You're probably right," Mallory hadn't thought about it that way until Hannah said it. Then, it cracked her up. She realized they had to think the worst of her.
The two were sitting in Mallory's office belly laughing when a young man with dark hair, white pleather pants, and a denim shirt pushed open the door. "Morning, you two."
"Hey, Hudson," Mallory said through her tears.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
In unison, Mallory and Hannah replied, "Nothing," then laughed until they cried. Hudson left Mallory's bagel and coffee on her desk and walked out. After a few minutes, Hannah used one of the tissues from the box on Mallory's desk, dabbed the corners of her eyes, and went back to her desk. Alone in her office, Mallory powered on her laptop and started to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last fall, Jacqueline and Mallory were having dinner with Jack Boyd, the Editor-in-Chief of the Sun, and his wife, Misty Tate, a former Miss Georgia when she announced that Channel Four, WMIM, had contracted her to host a talk show. At the time, Mallory was less than enthusiastic at the idea of some non-communications major, non-journalist taking to the airwaves. After the congratulations and the dinner celebration, there was no more discussion of the matter. She and Jacqueline were having problems determining their future, so discussions of Misty's news were less than relevant. When Jacqueline and Elet left Tampa and headed to Baltimore to pick up the wedding arch, Misty contacted Mallory. She called and she texted, but Mallory did not respond. During Jacqueline's absence, Mallory was certain that she was planning to return to town and announce the ending of their relationship. The idea of which sent Mallory's emotions out of control. So, when Jacqueline called from Baltimore and asked Mallory to join her, she knew it was the end; however, she coalesced and made the journey - only to discover that Jacqueline wanted a future. With her relationship fears quelled, Mallory returned Misty's calls, if for no other reason than to apologize.
"Sorry, I hadn't gotten back to you. Jacqueline and I've been having some problems," Mallory admitted. She felt Misty deserved the truth.
"Oh, my goodness, honey. I hope everything's alright. You know, if you ever need to talk, we can talk," Misty offered. In that moment, Mallory believed it. Misty had no one to tell. She had nothing to gain by offering her shoulder or ear.
"Thank you, Misty. That means a lot. I think we've got it worked out. I just wasn't in a good place and couldn't call you back. I'm sorry."
"No, honey. I completely understand. And, I know what's it like to be in a bad place and not have anyone to talk to. So, I mean it, if you ever need to talk, honey, I'm here."
"Thank you. Do you still need me?" Misty was silent. It was unlike her. In their occasions with one another, Mallory had usually felt subpar, but it wasn't anything Misty had done or said. She was a beautiful woman. She was a child model who turned swimsuit model. She was crowned Miss Georgia and became runner-up for Miss America. In the years after runway modeling, she has remained a print ad model for a cosmetics company. It was more than enough to challenge most women's egos. Yet, Misty never flaunted it. She complimented Mallory's hair, her makeup, her clothing. She never talked about her shoots in Rio or Paris. She never mentioned the clothes that were given to her. Instead, she spoke of the four of them going out to dinner or seeing a movie. Misty said that Jacqueline and Mallory were their best friends. Yet, here Misty sat on the phone silent. Mallory was concerned. "Are you there? Did I lose you?"
"Oh, no, honey. I'm here. I'm just not sure how to ask this of ya."
Misty had never asked anything of Mallory or Jacqueline. "Well, just ask. If I can help, I will."
"That's so sweet. You're so sweet. That's why it's you."
"Why what's me?"
"Do you remember my show?"
"The talk show? The one you're going to start in January? Yes, I remember it."
"Well, it's gotta have all kinds of personnel. Lotta people I'm told. Now, I can oversee who gets hired. Truth is, honey, I don't care about all that. Nate, my agent, says I should care. But, I only care about one person. I mean, I only need one person. The program director. I mean, that's the person who I'd talk to. That's the person I need to understand me and not take advantage of me." She was silent. When she started to speak again, her tone was different, softer, "People assume models are dumb. They think this accent makes me dumb. They take advantage of me trusting them. I don't have a lot of friends, because of the modeling, because of the money. But, I have you. And, guess what? My only friend interned as a TV station before she worked at a newspaper. She wanted to work in TV. She can get to do that. She can be Program Director for a TV show. I don't know what to say to make you think about it. So, I'm just gonna ask. Mallory, will you help me? Will you be my program director? Will you stand by me, so I have someone I trust? Please. You can think about it for as long as you want."
Mallory wanted to scream YES, but she knew she wasn't supposed to. It was an amazing opportunity, a chance of a lifetime, a dream of a lifetime. "I can't believe you thought of me. You could probably have anyone you wanted in the world."
"Honey, I only trust you."
"I don't know much about being program director."
Misty laughed, "I don't know anything about being a talk show host, but we'll figure all of that out together. Or, we can drink a lot of wine if we fail. I guess I shouldn't have mentioned failing. We can write you up a contract that if things go wrong within three years that I'll pay you some amount."
"Calm down. Let's just take it slow. First, I need to talk to Jacqueline."
"So, you'll think about it?"
"I will."
"Well, that's a start, honey," Misty said with a sigh. "Thank you for thinking about it."
"Thank you for considering me. We'll talk soon." And, that was history. Mallory spoke to Jacqueline who
was, of course, supportive of her aspirations. After Alex and Elet's wedding, she resigned to Jacqueline and began at WMIM the following week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
On her desk riser, a picture of Jacqueline and Zoe sat. The two were holding onto the side of the pool at the hotel in Orlando during Zoe's birthday stay. Mallory was staring at the picture and thinking of how much fun they all had when the phone rang...
"Mallory, Jacqueline Emerson from the Tampa Sun Tribune is on line one," a phantom voice said.
"Put her through. Thanks."
"I'm not going to get used to having to ask someone if I can speak to you, " Jacqueline said.
"You could just call my cell."
"I could, but this is cooler."
"You know, you have a secretary."
"Do not."
"What's Grant?"
"An assistant. Secretaries are gauche. Assistants are politically correct."
"What'd you call for, silly?"
"This call is to make schedule arrangements."
"Hold on. Let me open my schedule." Mallory opened her laptop to her calendar. "Okay," she said as it cycled. "Got it."
"Tomorrow, we're meeting Vicki at nine at her office to go look at houses. Afterward, I'll drop you off at work."
"I already had that on my schedule. I don't plan on coming into the office until after lunch. See? I'm on top off it."
With surprise in her voice, Jacqueline asked, "But, do you have this on your schedule? Me and you at Ethan's office on Wednesday afternoon?"
Mallory scrolled through her calendar. She didn't have the appointment. She checked her email to see if Jacqueline had sent her anything to remind her. There was nothing. She looked in her phone for a text. Nothing was there either. "Baby, I don't have that time blocked out. And, I can't make it. I have a management meeting Wednesday afternoon. When did we talk about it?"
"Baby, you're missing the point. The account will be funded on Wednesday. I just found out. It's time for everything to begin. This is the week!"
"Oh my God! Are you serious? We start looking for houses and if we like it, we're ready to go ahead and get it?"