One Fine Day

by Erica Abbott

  She took a couple of cleansing breaths and gave them the dazzling smile known to thousands of opera fans. “My friends,” she said, “I hope that someday each of you will be my colleague as well. In fact, as you know, some of you already are.”

  She gifted Anna, Robert, and Naomi with the smile, each in turn. Anna beamed back at her, Robert nodded once gravely, as if accepting her acknowledgment, and Naomi—Naomi looked both elated and terrified at the same time.

  Hang on, Caroline told her silently. Give me ten more minutes.

  She began by emphasizing the importance of their work ethic, the daily vocal exercises they must commit to, to continue throughout their careers, keenly aware of how long it had been since she had done any vocal exercises herself. She talked about rest, the dangers of the dehydrating effects of alcohol, and diet.

  “Talent will get you only so far along the path,” she said, emphasizing her point with a glance at Robert. “Your body is your livelihood, your canvas. It is your instrument, so you must treat it with great care. You want to build a reputation, not only for your talent but for your hard work, and the ease with which other artists may work with you. I’m not saying that you should ever lower your standards for excellence, nor stop demanding it in others, but it will do you no good to become known, for lack of a better word, as a diva. That doesn’t make you a better artist, or put you in higher demand. Eventually you will be regarded as someone who is not worth the trouble. I have seen it happen to some very talented singers. Don’t become one of them.”

  She folded her hands and lifted her head a fraction. “You will face many other challenges in your careers. The competition in opera is fierce, and you will inevitably be disappointed. You will face rejection, not always for reasons of merit, but for reasons that may seem capricious and arbitrary, discriminatory, even.”

  She took another deep breath. Here goes. “I myself, for example, concealed my sexual orientation during my singing career, in the belief that it would damage my vocation if it were known that I am a lesbian.”

  She heard a stifled gasp from someone, and glanced toward Madame Petrovski. But the singing teacher had a serene look, as if she had known all along. Perhaps she had, Caroline mused. Madame certainly seemed well in touch with the eddies and currents of opera gossip.

  Caroline wanted to laugh at herself again, as she had with Jack Parsons. She’d certainly done a pretty awful job of keeping her sexual orientation a secret if half the opera world seemed to know. She wondered how many directors, how many conductors, how many of her co-stars had actually known. Now that she thought about it, why had Jeanne approached her in Paris all those years ago? That closet she’d been in all this time must have been made of glass.

  She gazed at the seated students. Only Robert looked openly hostile. A couple of others had vaguely surprised looks, but most of them were as unimpressed as Madame Petrovski seemed to be. But Naomi Snow had her mouth half-open, the shock evident in her wide eyes.

  Of course, Caroline thought. Most people wouldn’t care, but Naomi would care, deeply.

  “In retrospect, I was wrong,” Caroline continued. “So I urge you, above all, to be yourself, as a person and as an artist. What makes you unique, what makes you special, is more than just your voice. It is the person doing the singing.” She turned to Madame and said, “Thank you so much, Madame Petrovski. I hope to see each of your students on stage of the Rocky Mountain Opera very soon.”

  The applause seemed a bit more enthusiastic than she might have expected, so she bowed gracefully and left, feeling as free and happy as she could ever remember.

  “Ms. Prince!” She heard a voice behind her and turned back.

  Naomi Snow was standing in the doorway. The door was closed, but her hand was still on the doorknob as if she couldn’t decide whether she was going to dart back into the room or continue down the hall.

  Caroline walked slowly back down the hall toward her. “Naomi,” she said.

  “Did you—what you just said. I mean, you’re really gay?” she asked in hesitant incredulity. Her dark eyes were still so wide that Caroline thought they would swallow the rest of her face.

  Caroline waited until she had gotten to Naomi, then reached over and took her hand off the doorknob, holding it in her own. “Yes,” she said. “And I want to tell you something, Naomi. You can be a really special singer. The only thing standing in your way is your own fear. Where you came from, what other people have done, or haven’t done, doesn’t matter any more. If you want to be happy and have a career, you must let go and take your life in your own hands. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  Naomi searched her face with her enormous eyes, dark spotlights seeking the truth of what Caroline said. “I think so,” she said, at length.

  “Good. Now go back to work, all right?”

  “Yes.” She grasped the doorknob again, and spoke so softly Caroline barely heard the words.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Jill said, “A little higher. To the left. Yes, right there. Oh, yes.”

  Caroline asked, “Too hard?”

  “No, just right. Oh, my God, that feels great.”

  Caroline pushed a little harder on the tight muscle in Jill’s lower back. “That’s what you say to all the girls, I bet.”

  “You’re so funny. Ow.”

  “What did you do to yourself to get your back in such a mess?” Caroline shifted a little on the bed to get a better angle.

  “Sat in a chair in a conference room for three and a half hours without getting up. A little lower now. To the right.”

  Caroline put more lotion on her hands and moved to a new location. “That’s a bad thing to do. At least get up every few minutes and stretch.”

  “I usually do when I’m in my office. It was just hard during this damned closing.”

  “At least you got through it. I imagine your client is very happy.”

  “Well, they are now. I had some client relations repair work to do after Gary basically blew them off for three weeks.”

  Caroline finished working, and said, “Did you take some ibuprofen?”

  “Just now. I should have taken them with dinner, but I forgot.” She rolled over carefully and smiled up at Caroline. “For some reason, looking into those amazing eyes distracted me.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “I speak only the truth.” She pulled Caroline down to give her a thank-you kiss.

  “You,” Caroline smiled, “are very welcome.” She shifted around to lie next to Jill. “Better?” she asked.

  “Much.” She sighed. “Now if only the pain that is Gary Watson could be eliminated so easily.”

  “Mmm. Let me guess. He gives you pain a bit lower?”

  Jill shifted over so that they were lying face to face. “I hate him, I really do.”

  “You don’t use that word very often. Why is he so worthy of being hated?”

  Jill sighed again. “Because he’s lazy, a lousy lawyer, and he hates queers.”

  Caroline made a face. “Okay, now I hate him too. God, why is still working at your firm?”

  “He’s Walter Calvert’s son-in-law.”

  Caroline propped up onto one arm. “You’re kidding. You don’t have an nepotism policy at the firm?”

  “Don’t even go there. We do, and Walter basically circumvented it to get Gary in. With the help of some partners who voted to hire Gary because we were afraid of displeasing Walter.”

  Jill could see the dawning realization on Caroline’s face. “We?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Jill admitted. “I was a new partner, and didn’t think I could afford to offend the managing partner. It was a mistake, and I’ve paid for it quite a bit since.” She ran her hand lightly down Caroline’s bare arm and felt her tremble a little. How she loved being able to do that.

  “The problem is,” Jill said suddenly, “that I’m about to make the same mistake again.”

  “Walter h
as another son-in-law?” Caroline asked.

  “No. He wants Gary to become a partner.”

  “But you told me Walter’s leaving, right? So he can’t really influence the vote. Or can he?”

  Jill explained the deal Walter had made with her. Caroline listened without interrupting until she finished.

  “What are you going to do?” Caroline asked. “I mean, is it good enough that Gary will be moved to someone else’s department?”

  Jill eased back onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “It’s not. I thought it would be, but I had a conversation with Walter a while ago. He told me how much he appreciated it that I wasn’t obvious about being a lesbian and embarrassing the firm.”

  “What?” Caroline sounded indignant.

  “Ever since then, I’ve been struggling with exactly what it means to be a lesbian in an Seventeenth Street law firm. You know me, I’m not an activist, but it just feels so wrong to me to vote Gary into the firm when I know he’s a bigot. How can I relax knowing he’ll give a bunch of shit to any gay associates, or paralegals, or anyone else?”

  Caroline tucked in next to her, her arm circling Jill’s hips. “You’ve already answered your own question,” she said softly.

  “Have I?”

  “You know you have.”

  Yes, Jill thought. She knew what she had to do. “If I do this,” she said quietly, “it’s possible that I might have to leave the firm.”

  “Even though you’re a partner?”

  “Even so. And you should know that I can’t exactly put out a shingle and open my own practice. My specialty involves a lot of major corporate clients, and those clients don’t hire solo practitioners.”

  “So what would your options be?”

  “I could try to get a job with another firm, I guess. Not easy to do at this point in my career, but not impossible. It’d be easier if I had what’s called a ‘portable practice’—clients who would come with me if I shifted firms.”

  Caroline said, “Well, I think I can promise you one client, anyway.”

  Jill looked down at her and said, “Are you sure this is all right with you? I’m not just making this decision for myself anymore. This could have a drastic effect on my income, depending on what happens.”

  “Do you know,” Caroline said in response, “how very much I love you?”

  “I think so.”

  Caroline shifted on top of Jill and kissed her hard. “I want you to be sure,” she said.

  “In that case, maybe you should show me.”

  “What about your back?”

  “I promise to lie here quietly and let you do all the work.”

  * * *

  It was Friday morning before Jill could get time to see Walter. The partnership meeting was scheduled for that afternoon, and the conversation couldn’t wait any longer.

  When she came into his office, she said, “I need to shut the door.”

  He glanced up from his desk in surprise. “Certainly, Jill,” he said.

  She sat down. He wore a navy suit, a light blue shirt with a white collar, and a blue foulard tie, a matching pocket square peeking from his breast pocket. Every inch of him radiated confidence.

  “Nice work on the Medicomp matter,” he said, seizing control of the conversation out of habit.

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t have had to do any work on it if Gary had done his job.”

  He looked a little surprised at the direct attack. “I don’t think we need to discuss Gary further,” he said. “He won’t be in your department after next week.”

  Jill said, “Unfortunately, we do need to discuss Gary. Walter, I can’t be the real property department head if it means I have to vote Gary into the partnership. He shouldn’t be here, and I won’t vote in favor of his membership.”

  She’d surprised him, she could see. Before he could speak, she continued, “This has nothing to do with my support of Murray as your successor. He’s the best candidate available, and I will honor my agreement with you. He’ll have my vote as managing partner this afternoon. But I won’t accept the appointment as department head if it means I have to support Gary. In fact, I have to tell you I will do everything in my power to see that he is not nominated to partnership in the firm. If this damages my career here, I’m sorry. But I feel very strongly about this, and I’m not going to change my mind.”

  They both sat quietly. There was a small ding on Walter’s computer, signaling an incoming e-mail, but there was no other sound. Finally Walter cocked his head to one side and said, “If you’re looking for an assurance from me, Jill, I have none to give.”

  “I’m not looking for anything from you, Walter. I’ve very much enjoyed working for you and with you, and I hope you have a wonderful retirement. You’ve taught me a lot, and I’m very grateful. This is just not a favor I can do for you.”

  “I thought I knew what would happen this afternoon,” Walter said. “Now I’m not so sure.”

  Jill stood up. “It’s all right,” she said. “Whatever happens, I just wanted you to know.”

  And it will be all right, she thought as she went back to her office. Because no matter what, I have Caroline.

  * * *

  Caroline had finished rebuttoning her blouse when Dr. Sorento came back into the examination room.

  “Well?” Caroline asked, and hated the way her voice shook.

  He sat down on a stool next to the examination table. “I am unable to see any change from your examination in January by Dr. Fielding, Ms. Prince,” he told her. “Perhaps some minor improvement from the time of Dr. Graf’s original diagnosis last fall, but it’s marginal at best.”

  She tried to keep the room from spinning. No improvement. “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “It’s too soon to tell. The treatment usually works if it’s implemented soon enough, and there’s no way of telling yet whether it’s going to work.”

  “Do we have other treatment options?” She knew the answer, but asked anyway.

  “Surgery, of course. You discussed that with Dr. Fielding, I presume.”

  “We did. He was very pessimistic. Even if the surgery corrected the underlying condition…” She stopped, unable to finish, unable to say the words.

  “Yes,” he said. “I agree with your decision not to pursue surgery. It’s very unlikely to be successful.”

  “I see.” That was what both doctors had told her, actually. It made her feel hopeless.

  No, she thought. She shook his hand, and went out to make another appointment in three months. Not hopeless. She had Jill now, and that was worth everything. Whatever happened, she had Jill.

  * * *

  Jill went back to her office after the partnership meeting, a little stunned. She sat in her office chair and looked at the work on her desk.

  The hell with it. She’d had enough of work for today. She would induce Carolyn away from work and get an early start on their weekend. She picked up her telephone and called Caroline’s office.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Allen,” Arthur told her. “She’s gone for the rest of the afternoon. I don’t expect her back.”

  Jill frowned. Caroline hadn’t mentioned an appointment out of the office. Not that she was required to clear her calendar with Jill, of course.

  Jill tried her home phone. When that went to voice mail, she tried her cell next. It went to voice mail as well, and Jill’s frowned deepened. Was Caroline all right?

  She sat at her desk a few minutes, running through the e-mails that had come through during the meeting. She tried both of Caroline’s numbers again, but got no answer.

  Jill thrust a hand through her hair in frustration. Then a thought occurred to her.

  She went back through her archived e-mails until she found the one Arthur had sent her last week.

  * * *

  At five o’clock, Caroline gave up trying to reach Jill by phone. Her office said she’d left early for the day, and her paralegal sounded as surprised as Caroline felt at that news. Ji
ll didn’t answer her cell phone or home phone, so finally Caroline drove to the condo.

  Jill’s BMW was in her parking space. Caroline parked in a visitor’s slot and took the elevator up. Maybe Jill had just gone home early, taken a bath or something, and didn’t want to be disturbed, she tried to reassure herself.

  Her anxiety doubled when she got to Jill’s front door. The door was actually ajar, open a couple of inches.

  Caroline pushed the door open and called out, her voice sharp with alarm, “Jill! Are you all right?”

  From the living room, she could hear music. Over it, she heard Jill said, “I’m in here.”

  She went into the room. The lights were off in the gathering dusk, and Jill was sitting on her couch. She was still wearing her suit from work, and a glass sat on the coffee table before her, almost empty. The bottle of Scotch they’d had drinks from a week ago was next to it, the level much lower than it had been the last time Caroline had seen it.

  “Jill,” Caroline exclaimed. “Your front door was open.”

  “I know. I knew you’d be coming over eventually and I didn’t feel like getting up to open it for you.”

  Something was wrong, seriously wrong. Jill’s face was shadowed and infinitely sad. Caroline felt her hands go cold. She sat down and said, “My God, Jill. What happened? Was it the partnership meeting?”

  Jill reached over, picked up her glass and finished off the contents. “The partnership meeting,” she repeated carefully, and Caroline realized that Jill had had more than a few drinks. “That was very interesting. Murray is our new managing partner, and my very good friend Gary has secured a position with another firm, it seems. He’s going off to torment some other people. Walter must have called in some gigantic favors to get Gary a job. Which is really too bad, because Gary isn’t worth the powder to blow him to hell.”