by Carol Caiton
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. Again." She shook her head. "I need to take a refresher etiquette class. Simon just makes me so mad sometimes. In fact, if you're on your way to see Simon Yetzer, let me warn you. He's in the most awful mood. But you're probably going inside to see Hannah, aren't you?"
Jessica thought it best to ignore the Simon Yetzer comment. She had no idea who he was and decided that might be a good thing. "Hannah and I are going to have lunch together," she said.
"Well good. That will keep her out of Simon's range for a while. He's turning into a bully if you ask me. Hannah's a sweetheart. And she has the best fashion sense of anyone I know. God, I love her wardrobe! Well, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you Jessica."
"Yes, it was nice to meet you too."
Like a whirlwind, curls bobbing with each step, Libby Pye disappeared around the corner.
Jessica stood for a minute, staring after her and reorienting herself. So many Americans lived and spoke as though their minds were ten paces ahead of their bodies. Trying to keep up left her a little breathless, as though she'd boarded a high velocity train while conversing with them, and then jumped off.
She chanced a quick glance down at her breasts. They were full and very much noticeable in her uniform, though she wasn't as well endowed as Hannah. Clearly though, Libby Pye had summed her up with one brief stare. The form-fitting white T-shirt that was part of her required uniform clung to her and defined her shape. The bra beneath, also required, lifted and thrust her breasts out in such a suggestive manner, it embarrassed her each time she put it on.
But all the other girls at Urns & Leaves were dressed in exactly the same attire. Jessica had been told that part of her job description included wearing a uniform specifically designed to appeal to the male population. She would have to accustom herself to being on display. Women, after all, were something of a commodity at RUSH, and if that was a philosophy she couldn't adjust to, she wouldn't last very long here. So she avoided looking in the mirror whenever possible. A quick overall glance once she was dressed in the bra, T-shirt, and very short blue skirt that bared most of her thighs was enough to assure her she was tidy and nothing was askew.
Turning around, she started walking again, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin. It would probably rain later in the afternoon, but the sun would shine again after half an hour or so. She liked that. She liked living in Florida. Working part-time at Urns & Leaves suited her as well. Her shift had ended just a few minutes ago and she was off the clock now. Another odd turn of phrase—off the clock. Literally, it gave the impression that one had been sitting or standing on top of a clock and then removed oneself.
For as long as she could remember, languages had intrigued her, particularly the variations in dialect. She hadn't thought about it since she was younger, but she now found it interesting that she was more familiar with foreign colloquialisms than she was with her own native tongue. She and her father had communicated in German, which was his native tongue, or Mandarin. And half of her life had been spent in Japan, China, and the Middle East. But she was a quick learner. She read, she paid attention when others spoke, and American television provided an endless source for study. And each afternoon, when she was off the clock, she explored the city she now called home.
Her short workday left her with a great deal of extra time actually. Initially it had surprised her to learn that RUSH only offered part-time employment except for administrative and professional positions. But she didn't aspire to a career here. When she told Kyle Falkner she wanted a husband, she'd been quite serious. She had no desire at all to pursue another career. Nor did she feel a sense of excitement at the thought of more world travel. She'd acted as her father's ear in a predominantly male business environment. She'd been his translator and, in recent years, his hostess.
She could have sought a future in that world had she wanted to. She'd had more than one offer. But her priorities had been rearranged by the death of her father. Staying alive was at the top of her list and acquiring a husband would help ensure that.
She'd hoped Henri would fill that role. He was the son of a man with whom her father had conducted business and she'd seen him a couple of times before formally meeting him. Perhaps most of her attraction to him had been because he moved in the same familiar circles. She'd found comfort in his company. Learning, however, that he was a double-headed snake had shaken her badly. She wanted to believe in her own common sense and good judgment, but she'd been forced to acknowledge a very real naiveté that could have brought great unhappiness. Consequently, with trouble following her footsteps, she'd fled to a country she barely remembered, to a sister she scarcely knew, and a mother who had no interest in a second daughter.
Her command of the English language was sufficient in the business world, but she spoke it with formality, influenced by other cultures and languages, and casual, friendly conversation brought perplexed expressions from the eyes of those with whom she spoke. Here, in the country of her birth, she felt more an outsider than she had in Beijing or Brussels, or any number of other cities. She'd been a traveler of the world since the day her father held her hand and they'd left the United States for Japan. But his business had never brought him back to the United States. Insofar as she knew, he'd never returned to this country following the divorce from her mother.
She, however, had returned a handful of times. Four to be exact. Her parents had made an effort to coordinate their schedules to provide her with a two-week visitation in New York, but her mother was Mia Breckenridge of the fashion world. Sudden bursts of creative flair, or the fury of preparing for various shows while traveling the globe herself left only small windows of time that didn't always coincide with the schedule Jessica's father kept.
The first two times Jessica traveled to New York, Hannah had been away at school and any time spent with her mother was squeezed between long workdays, evening distractions, and her mother's current romantic interest. Only once, during her third visit, had Hannah been home. But by then, the gap between their ages and the differences in their upbringing had become so pronounced, the sisterly bond that once existed was no longer there. Instead of the anticipated reunion Jessica had looked forward to, their contrasting lifestyles made conversation stiff and obligatory.
Confused and lonely, that had been the first time Jessica realized she and her sister were growing up in different cultures. Hannah spent most of each year at a boarding school, surrounded by her peers while Jessica spent each afternoon with tutors and books. Hannah took tennis lessons three days each week and went to parties while Jessica learned about the culture of an imperial dynasty from an old Chinaman who spent two hours with her every day. Hannah's bedroom walls were decorated with posters of rock-and-roll performers, awards, and watercolor prints. By contrast, Jessica's bedroom at her mother's Manhattan apartment had been converted to a guest bedroom with the few belongings she'd left behind stored in the closet.
The change had been a logical one, she told herself. She was only there to use the room two weeks out of an entire year. But when she returned to her father that time, she'd cried against his chest and told him she never wanted to go back. Nothing was as it used to be. Hannah was a stranger. Her beautiful canopy bed had been replaced by a much larger monstrosity with a brass headboard. And her mother had been unable to spare more than a few hours for her.
The following year her father made no attempt to contact her mother and no trip to New York was arranged. The year after that, however, it was her mother who had phoned and insisted on seeing Jessica, though Jessica often wondered why. Within twenty-four hours of her arrival, her mother's muse had struck with a vengeance and most of her two weeks had been spent reading while her mother scarcely left her drawing board. She hadn't even taken the time to drive Jessica back to the airport but had called on an assistant to do that chore.
Before leaving, however, Jessica had stopped in the doorway of her mother's studio to say goodbye for the last time. Shaking inside, pra
ying that her beautiful mother would override her wishes, she quietly said she didn't want to come back to New York anymore. There was no reason to really. Then she'd waited.
Something, some emotion, had flickered in her mother's eyes and Jessica noticed how tired she looked that morning. But whatever it was that appeared in her eyes had quickly vanished. The more familiar air of distraction returned and her mother merely nodded before turning back to her drawing board as though dismissing a messenger.
Jessica had been twelve that year. Much as she'd wanted to cry and release the pain of her mother's indifference, only a few tears fell during her flight back to Europe. She neither saw nor heard from her mother again after that and, like her father, Jessica had never returned to the United States. The pain of those visits faded with the passing years, and the more involved she became in her father's business affairs, the less time she had to think about her mother or wonder about Hannah.
But her father was gone now. The gaping void in her life was a terrible ache because of the close relationship they'd shared. He'd been both father and mentor from the day he'd held her hand and introduced her to a new and fascinating world. Later, when she showed a natural aptitude for finance as well as languages, she'd become his friend and eventual business confidante.
Now she had no real sense of belonging to any person or any single place. One thing she knew for certain though, had known from the moment her father passed on . . . she needed a husband very quickly, someone who would be a deterrent to those who pursued her.
Unfortunately, very quickly meant she'd probably have to marry without love, and that filled her with as much anguish as her grief. She was so terribly alone. The need to find a husband might be pressing, even urgent, but marriage should be so much more than a business contract. It should be founded on compatibility, with shared interests, and grounded in mutually binding emotion. She wanted a home. She wanted security. She wanted roots in one city, in one country where she could settle. She wanted to grow a family and surround herself with the love of a husband and children so she'd never feel this bone-deep isolation again.
Many hours had been spent in contemplation, wondering how to go about finding such a life. How did one locate a suitable and loving spouse in a very short period of time? The Internet offered a multitude of dating services and the entire world had been before her. But she was wary after Henri's deceit. Certainly, she had the means to acquire detailed information with regard to any person she might wish to investigate. But it was important to maintain a low profile at the moment. She didn't feel safe accessing those contacts with whom she'd engaged in business. She'd left the Middle East under the guise of attending a securities conference. Clothing and belongings, some of them dear, had been left behind as her father had instructed. Others, however, had been shipped to Paris in advance because he'd anticipated the very danger that took his life.
It was in Paris that she'd been introduced to Henri. Now, however, she wondered if their fleeting romance hadn't been orchestrated by his father. The puzzle pieces fit. Had she not overheard his friends speaking, she would have remained in France against her own father's instructions. Consequently, coming to the United States had been the right choice, the safest choice, just as her father had said.
After nine years, when she finally saw Hannah for the first time, renewed hope and warmth lifted her sadness. Hannah hadn't seen her right away and Jessica had taken those few moments to look at her sister and allow the connection with another blood relative to settle in her soul.
They appeared very much alike now, their blonde hair still the same pale shade and highlighted with the same undertones. Jessica had gray eyes while Hannah's were blue, but their facial features were very similar, as was their height and frame. The fact that they were sisters was more evident now than it had been when they were children so it wasn't surprising when the girl with bouncing curls had noticed the resemblance and commented on it.
But Hannah had been reserved during that first meeting and Jessica reminded herself that they no longer knew one another. It had been many years since they'd spoken and Hannah, after all, had no need for the sudden appearance of a sister in her life. Hannah had grown up here in the United States. She had her mother, her mother's family, and the familiarity of long established friendships. She already had the advantages of roots and security and her life appeared comfortable and complete, on paper, at least.
Jessica, conversely, had spent those first two years with her father living in Japan. The next eighteen months had been based in Thailand, then Belgium, five years in China, and this last year in the Middle East. What would she and her sister find to talk about? Did they have anything at all in common with one another?
A fair measure of Jessica's pleasure had been reduced to uncertainty. She had no right to expect anything from Hannah, neither acceptance nor a warm reunion. Her heart, however, refused listen to the logic of her mind. For all her world travel, for all her knowledge of global finance and talent for languages, the yearning to be welcomed by this one person, her only sister, was the one thing that mattered most.
Time, she told herself. It would take time. Surprisingly, however, the point of common interest they found arose when Jessica told Hannah of her wish to marry and begin a family. Apparently they'd both reached the same stage in life when marriage was the next step they were ready to take.
"Join RUSH," her sister told her.
But Jessica had stared at her, aghast. She'd heard of RUSH, Incorporated. The fact that Hannah worked there, had worked there for two years, was a point of concern, raising many questions in her mind.
Still, Hannah smiled. She comprehended the reason for Jessica's hesitation, but the promise in her eyes was confident with knowledge of something Jessica could only guess at.
"I can't discuss it with you," Hannah continued, "unless you join or unless you apply for a job and they hire you. But if you'll trust me on this, it might be one of the best decisions you could make."
Still, Jessica had answered without committing herself, saying only that she would consider it. And she had, for a single second, but not with an open frame of mind. Joining an organization that offered the sacred act of lovemaking as a casual pastime for recreational pleasure was so far removed from her upbringing and directly opposed to her goal, it took no more than that single second to discard the idea.
A few days later, however, Hannah phoned to say she'd obtained permission from her boss to add Jessica's name to RUSH's guest list for a tour.
"Speak with one of our representatives at Member Services," she'd advised. "Then, when you're finished, take an hour or so to walk around the property. A security guard will accompany you and point out the various venues."
But when Jessica continued to hedge, Hannah parried with a touch of annoyance. "Speaking to a representative and taking a short tour doesn't mean you have to join, Jessica. It's just a chance to learn and see things for yourself and if you listen carefully, you'll understand why I suggested this. But if you decide to fill out an application, be careful not to imply that you're looking for a husband."
It had been the note of disdain in Hannah's voice that convinced Jessica to agree. She wanted to acknowledge her sister's offer of friendship, and accepting this invitation would do that. At the same time, however, she was wary and less inclined to trust Hannah's judgment. And misrepresenting herself on an application . . . ?
Nevertheless, taking the tour and speaking with a representative would soften her refusal when she told Hannah she'd decided against joining. It would appear as though her decision had been based on a negative impression rather than the immediate rejection of her sister's suggestion.
So she'd driven her pretty new car to RUSH, Incorporated the following morning and found her way to Member Services. She signed a nondisclosure form, agreeing to refrain from sharing any information about her visit with any person outside the organization. Its purpose, she was told, was to ensure the privacy and safety of RUSH's cliente
le. So she put her signature to the paper. Other than Hannah, there was no one at all with whom she would discuss such an excursion.
She was then shown to a cheery, sun-filled office where a lovely woman described the various membership opportunities available. In an easy, unconstrained tone, she listed some of the numerous classes offered, a few with embarrassingly descriptive names. She made mention of several opportunities for self-improvement, elaborated on an array of luxurious, pampering amenities, and to Jessica's sudden, dazzling comprehension, explained RUSH's meticulously conceived, highly accurate linking system.
At once, happiness blossomed, full and radiant. She now understood the reason for Hannah's distressing suggestion. Her sister hadn't been pointing her down a path of depravity. Instead, she'd steered Jessica toward an opportunity to use this meticulously conceived, highly accurate linking system to her advantage. Her sister had given her a gift. Asking Jessica to trust her, Hannah had offered true sisterly friendship and her heart sang.
With new enthusiasm, she told the lovely woman at Member Services that her name was on the guest list for a tour and asked if she could return afterward to speak further.
Eager then to see Hannah, she'd walked the perimeter of RUSH's main path with the appointed security guard and asked if it was possible to stop and see her sister. To her own embarrassment, she couldn't say where it was that Hannah worked. But the guard had smoothed over her awkwardness, speaking through his small headset to an unknown person at the other end, asking for the location of Hannah Breckenridge. He'd then escorted her into a long, single-story structure, told her it was the administrative building, and asked the receptionist at the front desk to see if Hannah was available.