by Bryn Bauer
Why didn’t Sofia take the interview? Why couldn’t she see past her disdain for wealth? She would have been perfect for the job. She had grace, poise and was calm under stress which was no little feat in law. Law was a field where students and practitioners for that matter dropped like flies because of the stress. Quint thought of how well she would fit into this lifestyle, the work, the sea, the outdoors. Granted, the fieldwork that he and the Canvars engaged in wasn’t exactly public record and could be dangerous at times. Though, how many conversations did they have about his houseboat and her experience sailing, rock climbing and mountaineering? Those could be dangerous too. She was so active; she needed a profession that was active. How often had he seen her studying outside on the green instead of in the library with her classmates? How many times had he seen her biking around Charleston on that old beach cruiser she said she got used from her landlord? Most students were perfectly suited to a sedentary life. Not Sofia. True, Quint was more than a little attracted to her because of these things though he thought he wouldn’t be a healthy heterosexual man if he weren’t. Aside from her intelligence and vivacity, Sofia had ‘quite a figure’ as his father would have said.
“Oye, there you are Quint.” A deep, jovial voice brought Quint out of his thoughts. The slight Spanish accent left no doubt who it was.
“Joe, did you need something?”
“No, I was just wondering where you were. I was talking to myself for a full three minutes before Helena said you were up here. Dio! You’re making me look senile in front of my wife. What’s wrong with you?”
Quint laughed, “Sorry, I just came up to...um... Quint stopped and turned to the older man. You know I have completely forgotten what I came up here to do.”
“Thinking about Sofia Koury?” Quint made a motion to demur, but Joe forestalled any denial. “Don’t try to fool me. You’re usually focused like a laser trigger. You don’t forget. Or has professorship softened your brain? I told you a lazy job like that would affect you.”
“Well, I need downtime and something respectable to fill it like a professorship. I’m just worried about her. She’s going to die Joe.”
“Die? What do you mean?”
“She’s going to die. She’ll get some job as an associate; get stuck in a cube, rotting away. And then, eventually, she’ll think that environment is normal, to just think in a straight line, not thinking for herself. She’ll think its fine just to do what she’s told and only aspire to be the one who shits downhill rather than being the one at the bottom who catches it.” Joe narrowed his eyes at Quint. Quint thought he saw a knowing spark in the hooded expression. It was confirmed as Joe responded.
“Like you, you mean. That is, before we plucked you out of the office, rolling shit down onto people.”
“Yeah, like me.”
“Well, she must be something to cause that much concern.”
Quint nodded and cleared his throat, “I wouldn’t have recommended her otherwise.”
Joe squinted against the reflection of Biscayne Bay, his weathered skin crinkling around his café con leche colored eyes. “Is this something more than professional admiration?”
Quint’s eyes widened in surprise. “Of course not.”
Joe chuckled, “That means ‘yes’. If she were completely unattractive, you wouldn’t have recommended her because that’s part of the job. Don’t look at me like that! You know it is. If you didn’t think she fit the requirements you would have made up some bullshit about you not noticing her looks. I’m from a long line of hot blooded men Quint, I know the difference. Tell me about her. Not the resume crap. I’ve seen that already.”
Quint shook his head and leaned on the dock railing. “All right. Sofia is one of my favorite students. She’s smart, unlike some of them. You know, anyone can find cases and precedence. But she really takes it a step further, gets creative and she’ll beat anyone down in an argument.”
“She’s got some cojones then?”
“Last week she took me on in an argument in class. I’ve haven’t had a student do that yet. Granted, I’ve only been there for three years, but even so...”
“Yes, you mentioned. You also said her image would fit in too?”
“I see what you’re after you dirty old man.” Quint shaded his eyes ostensibly to protect his eyes against the water’s glare, but also hiding his amusement at Joe’s look of horror.
“Old man?! Fifty-five is the new forty-five!”
“Except you’re fifty-eight.” Quint said, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile.
“Well, whatever. I am dirty though. Just ask Helena.” Quint held his hands up in surrender.
“Whoa. I’ll take your word for it.”
“So, do you need me to go on?” Joe threatened.
“God, no. Fine, yes she’s attractive.” Quint ran his hand through his hair catching glints of copper and cinnamon in the late afternoon sunlight. “She has these bright greenish gold eyes that hit you. It looks like a leopard staring you down.”
“Sounds like something to be careful of. I’m guessing she takes care of herself too?”
“Yeah, you know, like I said she bikes and has done some biking and kayaking. We are in a Southern coastal town after all. Most people are pretty active.”
“I see. Sounds perfect. I’ll bet she also has the long ribbon of caramel hair like some Mediterranean women?” Quint sighed as Joe got going. Joe was fond of theatrics and could carry on for hours. Quint tried to downplay.
“I don’t think Lebanese is necessarily Mediterranean, but yes you guessed it.”
“And, she dresses like all these girls in boho gear or whatever it’s called?” Quint was startled by Joe’s accuracy and looked at the older man. He found Joe looking over his shoulder at the harbor master’s stand. Quint turned to follow his gaze. It wasn’t theatrics, there was Sofia, glowing in the late day Miami sun.
The dock master pointed Sofia towards the Mariana and upon seeing Quint; she smiled and started toward the yacht. Quint walked to meet her at the head of the pier, “What made you change your mind?” In truth, she didn’t know why she had decided to come except that she had felt his passion. He obviously believed in the work and his mentors. It was something Sofia had to see for herself. Sofia sidestepped the question.
“I haven’t changed my mind yet. But, I realized that you were right. I would regret it if I didn’t at least come and do the interview. Plus, as you said, it’s a free trip to Miami staying on a yacht.”
Quint ushered her to the gangway where Joe waited. Sofia’s first impression of Joe was that of a man who, in his prime was likely quite fit and handsome but, had now gone a bit soft around the middle and the neck. However, she could see a still strong gleam of vitality in his stance and countenance. Quint began the introductions, “Sofia Koury, I’d like you to meet Joe Canvar.”
“It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Canvar.”
“Please, it’s Joe and my wife is Helena. I’m very glad you decided to come down to Miami.” Joe winked and added, “Quint here was fretting about it.”
Sofia smiled and glanced at Quint who glared and Joe and said, “I just think it’s not an opportunity to waste.”
“Of course”, said Joe and gestured for Sofia to follow. “Vamos, come, I’ll show you around the Mariana and introduce you to Helena.”
For Sofia, stepping aboard the Mariana was like stepping into the past. She was instantly transported back to her youth, being dragged to horrifically boring parties and dinners with her parents and their friends. Later, they brought her to dinners with business associates where the wives and children were just part of the cease fire agreement, to make nice, not to actually interact or be involved in conversation. She usually ended up in the nanny’s quarters or watching the younger children.
Sofia inwardly shook herself. She had to put those memories aside, otherwise, she would be in a foul mood all evening and that would certainly not improve her chances of making a good impression. Even t
hough she was not going to take the job, she didn’t want to embarrass Quint.
Joe and Quint took her around the main deck, the aft portion held a large outdoor bar, fully stocked, cool and shady. Just inside the slide away glass doors, the living and dining area were gorgeous. She had been in yachts of this level of luxury before, but very few. The two white sofas faced each other. These paired nicely with the sleek navy blue side chairs and coral and navy cashmere throw pillows. The recessed lighting above played on the oiled wood cabinetry leading into the dining room.
“This is where we will be dining tonight.” Joe gestured to a six person round table that could have comfortably expanded to hold ten. A baby grand piano stood in the adjacent nook, a promise of later entertainment.
“Do you play?” Sofia turned toward the lilting Irish voice and saw Helena Canvar in a flowing emerald hued cover up and sunhat. Helena continued, “I saw you arrive from up on the sun deck. Welcome, I’m Helena Canvar. You must be Sofia Koury.”
As Sofia returned the greeting and shook Helena’s hand, she studied the woman in front of her. Helena was definitely Irish. Her creamy skin, thick straight russet hair and hazel eyes gave her away immediately. The eyes that met hers were kind, intelligent and held the spark of humor. Seeing it, Sofia relaxed.
“So, do you play?” Helena asked again.
Sofia gave a rueful laugh, “No, I was kicked out of piano class when I was nine. Apparently, my progress over the previous six months had been unsatisfactory.”
“Oh, how so?”
“Well, I could still only play Mary Had a Little Lamb. But I think it was the attempts at smashing the piano after each song that made Madame Reina forgo the tuition in favor of saving her instrument.
“Goodness!” exclaimed Helena “You tried to smash the piano?”
This was one of her late mother’s favorite stories and Sofia loved to tell it. “Oh, well, I was watching a lot of MTV then, you know, when the guitar players smashed their instruments to bits at the end of a concert?”
Helena paused for just a moment and then let out a whoop of laughter startling Sofia. “How wonderfully logical for a child! If they could do it with a guitar why couldn’t you do it with a piano? I’ll just bet that was a sight to see!” Recovering from mirth, Helena motioned Sofia into the galley, but it wasn’t really a true galley, tiny and dark. They stood in a full gourmet kitchen. All of them fit in the gleaming, stainless steel room.
“This is quite an on-board kitchen”, said Sofia thinking back to her apartment kitchen that was exactly four feet square.
“Helena does all the cooking.” Joe said with pride.
Helena waved a hand “It’s therapeutic. Some people knit, I cook. Well, for dinners with less than eight people that is. Any more than that and I hire someone. I’d like to keep what little sanity I have left in my old age.”
“Don’t let her fool you”, Quint said. “She’s one hell of a cook.” Then with a wink at Helena he said, “Why do you think I still work for you?”
Joe interjected, “Well, it’s not for my sparkling personality, I know that.” This comment was rewarded with laughter.
Sofia looked around the galley again. She herself had never cooked for more than roommates or a few friends and was inspired. On impulse she turned to Helena, “Can I help you with dinner?”
“Oh, that’s nice of you but you should get settled before we eat. I’m sure you want to unpack and dress. Quint, can you show Sofia to her stateroom? See you in an hour.”
Sofia thanked Helena and turned to Quint. Quint led her down to the stateroom level and opened the door one of the three guest cabins. Opening the door, Sofia noted that what the room lacked in size, a scant eight feet by eight feet, it made up for in elegance and comfort. The wall opposite the entrance was a solid sheet of glass, looking out onto the red-gold sunset over the harbor. The wall continued into the cozy en-suite bathroom tiled in a mosaic of white and green sea glass. The centerpiece of the bedroom was the inviting queen bed. Crisp, cool Egyptian cotton sheets were layered beneath a feather weight duvet, and the fluffiest down pillows Sofia had seen. All this was framed by a curved and tufted light turquoise headboard of shantung silk. The materials used spoke to the level of care and maintenance the yacht received. It was virtually impossible to keep down duvets, pillows and silk from rotting in the constant humidity of a life aboard. No trace of damp was evident on the fine linens, only the promise of comfort and sleep. Sofia lightly touched the duvet. She wanted to sink into its depths and only emerge in the morning.
Instead, she sighed and went to the bank of built in drawers and cupboards to unpack and dress for dinner. She frowned as she pulled out her chosen outfits. She had wavered about what to bring but in the end determined to bring her normal clothing for day and outfits from her life in Connecticut for evening. Sofia shivered despite the warmth. She had thought never to wear these again. Never to be drawn back into the life of wealth, deceit and corruption. What am I doing? She thought. Sofia sat heavily on the dressing bench at the foot of her bed and thought. If she was honest with herself, she knew what she was doing. She wanted to satisfy her curiosity about the job, about Quint, about herself and her direction. But after meeting Joe and Helena, she genuinely wanted to see what this job was about. Helena and Joe Canvar intrigued her and she felt a connection with them. So, that’s what she would do, move forward and find out. With renewed purpose, she went back to the cupboard. Though it had been several years since she had dressed for a dinner, the ritual came back easily.
Sofia slowly examined each item. The occasion was important, elegant, but less formal than a dinner out or a catered dinner aboard. She also considered that she was the only guest. With mingled exasperation and fondness she remembered her mother’s often recited refrain, “Sofia you must know when to dress with sheen, shimmer and sparkle. Sheen is for informal events, shimmer is for cocktail parties and sparkle is for big celebrations.”
With this in mind, Sofia moved from the shimmery coral cocktail dress with seed pearls on the bodice and passed over the black Valentino. Black was for elegance and sobriety. She felt a bit of levity in this event and pulled out her Little Blue Dress. The navy blue tone was perfect for times when the Little Black Dress is just a hair too much. Blue is slightly less sober, a little more casual. As she slipped the dress over her head, the familiar feeling of putting on armor came over her. The ritual gave her time to focus, prepare herself for uncertain situations. It made her feel a little more powerful, invincible. She needed that right now to dispel the nervous twinges in her stomach. Sofia wanted to impress tonight, it was practice for future interviews if not for this particular job. The dressed skimmed her curves and fell to its proper place at the knee showing just two inches of the grass green charmeuse underskirt.
Carefully, she twisted her glossy, caramel infused hair up into a sleek chignon, applied make up and peep toes which emphasized her athletic calves beautifully. Topped with a set of two carat peridot studs, she was ready. Sofia entered the dining room to find Joe seated at the table examining files in a crisp white guayabera shirt and linen trousers. He looked up and saw her in the doorway.
“Sofia, don’t you look lovely. Can I get you a glass of wine?”
Sofia accepted just as Helena came through the door with a chilled seafood tower. An avocado and tomato bruschetta and enormous green salad were already on the table. The intoxicating smell of lemon, garlic, oysters and lobster lured her into the room, pulling her as if on a line, the fish exacting their revenge. Joe saw her staring “It was swimming in the ocean only two hours ago! Our guy at the dock lets us have first pick.”
“It looks delicious.” She looked around and then asked “Will Quint be joining us?”
Joe handed her a glass of crisp Pinot Gris and said, “He had a meeting on shore. He just returned and is changing. He should be out in a minute. These oysters will keep for a bit.” Sofia’s stomach gave a loud grumble at the news that it had to wait. She always felt
hungry during intense situations. In school, Sofia always kept a snack with her for exams and visits with her father’s associates.
Helena tactfully pretended not to notice but suggested, “While we wait, why don’t I show you the sundeck?”
“I’d love to see it, thank you.”
The sun deck occupied the majority of the upper deck of the yacht. “This is my favorite place” said Helena. Sofia could see why. Four deep cushioned coral and white striped lounge chairs occupied the space beside the plunge pool and spa. It also boasted an incredible view of blue, green and turquoise set off by the city skyline. Clear glass deck railing created an uninterrupted view making it all the more vibrant.
“You have something very special here Helena. I’m surprised you ever go below deck at all.” Helena answered with wry humor.
“Well Sofia, with your skin tone that may be possible”, gesturing at Sofia’s easily tanned olive skin “but try as I might, my Irish pallor isn’t so obliging. It goes bright red in an hour or so even with sun block. I won’t get plastic surgery, so sun damage is out.”
“You don’t need plastic surgery, you look very fit.” Sofia remarked.
“For my age, I suppose.”
“For any age”, said Sofia and meant it. Despite being in what Sofia guessed as late fifties, Helena was slim but not skinny. She obviously exercised and took care in her diet.
Helena smiled. “You’re very sweet.” She patted Sofia’s arm before continuing. “It’s adventure that does it” she said casting a glittering green look at Sofia. “Adventure, work and the sea. That’s all one needs to stay feeling young. Well, that and a good face cream” she amended. Sofia’s bubbling laugh escaped at that. Helena continued, “I swim everyday as long as Mother Nature cooperates. It clears the mind.” Then she turned to Sofia. “What do you do? You must have something that helps you. You’re in law school and you don’t look as if you’ve resorted to binge drinking or drugs.”