Let Them Eat Fruitcake

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Let Them Eat Fruitcake Page 12

by Melody Carlson


  Megan chuckled. “No, you didn’t mention that.”

  “Well, I did.”

  Megan wondered if that’s why she called but wasn’t going to ask. “I’ve never been too fond of my hair,” she said instead.

  Mrs. Fowler made a cackling sort of laugh. “Nor was I. But that was then. Now I wonder what on earth was wrong with me. Red hair is beautiful. You better enjoy it while you can, because redheads tend to go white early in life. Mine started turning white in my thirties.”

  Megan stood and nervously glanced into the decorative mirror that hung behind her desk, peering closely at her roots to see if there was any trace of white. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she muttered. “Now, Mrs. Fowler, what can I help you with? Is everything okay in your parlor?”

  “I’m still getting used to it. But I have an idea.”

  “An idea?”

  “Yes. I think that I would like to change the love seat for two chairs.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Do you think that would look nice?”

  Megan considered this. “Actually, I do.”

  “And love seats are an awkward piece of furniture, I think,” she continued. “Often two people do not like to share it. So two chairs seem to make more sense. Do you think you could take care of that for me?”

  “I will do everything possible,” promised Megan. “Let me check into it and call you back in a bit.”

  “That’s fine.”

  As Megan hung up, she knew she needed to be careful with this. Vera was already on the defensive. Or was it the offensive? Megan wasn’t sure. But she considered how to word this as she walked to Vera’s office and tapped on the partially closed door.

  “Come in,” called Vera.

  Megan stepped in with caution.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Sorry to interrupt you, but Mrs. Fowler would like to change something.”

  “What?” snapped Vera.

  So Megan explained. And Vera just sat there drumming her long fingernails on the surface of her desk. “So?”

  “So, what do you want me to do?”

  “You?”

  “Or anyone.”

  “Don’t forget that Mrs. Fowler is my client, Megan.”

  “Yes, that’s why I—”

  “I will handle it. Thank you.”

  “Okay.” Megan backed up to the door. “Do you want me to call her and explain—”

  “No, I do not need you to call her. Thank you.”

  Without saying another word, Megan left, but it was all she could do not to slam the door. She wished that Cynthia were in this morning. Megan knew that she’d understand, and perhaps she’d even say something to Vera. Cynthia was the senior partner in the firm, but why she put up with Vera’s crankiness was beyond Megan. Except that Vera had “connections”—meaning she had wealthy friends. According to some people, people that Megan had yet to meet, Vera was a “brilliant designer.” Still, she could be such a witch. For whatever reason, she seemed to have set her sights on Megan from day one.

  As Megan returned to her office, she felt torn. She’d promised Mrs. Fowler a return call. And yet Vera had told her not to make it. Fortunately, it was almost her lunch hour, and Megan decided to figure it out later. She was supposed to meet her mother at Demetri’s Deli at noon. Perhaps her mother would have some words of wisdom for her. But when she got to Demetri’s, her mother wasn’t there. Megan got in line anyway. Just as she was nearly to the counter, her phone rang.

  “I’m sorry,” said her mother breathlessly. “Louise drove down from Seattle yesterday, and she got here late last night, rather unexpected. Anyway, this morning we got to talking and the time just flew and suddenly I remembered my lunch date with you.”

  “Oh, that’s okay, Mom,” said Megan.

  “I’m so sorry, I hate to forget something like that.”

  “Really, it’s fine, Mom.”

  “Are you at the deli?”

  “Yes. And I’m just about to order some soup.”

  “Oh, that sounds good.”

  “Tell Louise hi for me and we’ll do lunch another day, okay?”

  “Thanks for understanding, sweetie.”

  “No problem.”

  “How about Friday? I have to go to a dentist appointment at two that day.”

  “Sounds great.” Megan moved up to the counter. “I’ll have a bowl of corn chowder,” she told the guy.

  “See you then,” said Mom.

  Megan hung up and tried not to feel aggravated. Or was it jealous? Really, it was fantastic that Louise and Mom were reconnecting. They’d been best friends in high school but lost track of each other over the years. Louise had been very lonely and blue, and Mom went on the Caribbean cruise with her, and it sounded as if they both had a blast. Really, Megan was happy for her mom. Mom felt she was helping Louise, and Louise was actually helping to distract Mom from her own grief. Her mom needed that right now. Of course, Megan felt like she needed her mom too. Now she couldn’t even ask her for advice on the Mrs. Fowler situation.

  “Megan!” said a high-pitched voice.

  Megan looked up to see her friend—make that her acquaintance—Gwen Phillips approaching her. “Oh, hi, Gwen,” said Megan.

  “Is that seat taken?” asked Gwen hopefully.

  “No. Actually it’s not.”

  “Great. Don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

  Megan shook her head.

  “So, how are you doing? I haven’t seen you since we were both trying to get a room in that house on Bloomberg Place. I assume you didn’t get in either. That girl who owned the house was such a snob.”

  Megan smiled. “Actually, I did get in.”

  Gwen blinked. “Seriously? You live there? Isn’t that girl, well, she seemed so … oh, I don’t like to sound judgmental, but she seemed very worldly and very materialistic.”

  “Her name is Kendall and she does like things.”

  “And you’re okay living with her?”

  “It’s been interesting.”

  “She’s not a Christian, is she?”

  Megan frowned.

  “Not that it’s my business.” Gwen peered curiously at Megan now. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you at church or the singles group lately. You haven’t fallen away, have you?”

  “I’ve been going to second service,” said Megan.

  “Second service?”

  Megan shrugged. “Yeah. Is that a problem? I mean, it’s pretty much the same sermon as first, isn’t it? Or is that the remedial service?”

  Gwen sort of laughed, but she still looked piously concerned. “But what about the singles group? You used to be a regular.”

  “I guess I’ve been busy.”

  Gwen nodded with interest. “A guy?”

  “Sort of,” admitted Megan.

  “Who is he? Anyone I know?”

  “No, you don’t know him.”

  “So he’s not from church or college?”

  “No.”

  “Does he go to church?”

  “Not really.” Megan looked up to see her soup coming at last. She smiled as the girl set it on the table. “Thanks.” Then she dipped in her spoon and started to eat.

  “You forgot to pray,” said Gwen.

  “Oh, yeah.” Megan bowed her head and murmured a quick, “Thanks, God.” Then she took another bite.

  “So, you’re involved with a guy who doesn’t go to church?” Gwen persisted.

  “I don’t know if I’d say involved. We’re more like friends.” Megan was trying to think of a way to change the subject.

  “Then why don’t you bring him to church?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Y
ou know what the Bible says about being unequally yoked, Megan. You don’t want to fall into that old trap.”

  “Like I said, we’re really just friends.”

  “Right.” But even as Gwen said this, Megan could hear the doubt in her voice. And Megan had to admit that Gwen might be onto something. To be honest, Megan wasn’t always so sure about the “just friends” thing herself, but even so, she didn’t need Gwen Phillips preaching at her about it. So before Gwen could say another word, Megan thought of a way to redirect their conversation.

  “Hey, I could use some advice,” she said as Gwen’s lunch was set before her.

  “Sure.” Gwen nodded eagerly, then bowed her head to pray.

  So, after a fairly long blessing, and after Gwen finally said “amen,” Megan explained her dilemma at work, describing how she’d promised to call old Mrs. Fowler back and yet how Vera had explicitly told her not to. “I feel torn. What would you do, Gwen?”

  “Wow.” Gwen picked up her sandwich. “That’s a tough one.”

  “I know.” Megan took another bite of soup and hoped that perhaps she’d stumped Miss Spiritual Know-It-All.

  “Here’s what I think you do,” said Gwen, still chewing her bite.

  “What?”

  “You appeal to your boss.”

  “Vera?” Megan frowned. “She’s not my only boss.”

  “Yes, but she’s the one in charge of this, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “You appeal to her authority.”

  Megan refrained from rolling her eyes and just nodded, pretending to listen.

  “You go to her and you say, ‘Vera, I know you told me not to call Mrs. Fowler, but I feel that I need to keep my promise to call her, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to do that.’”

  “And what if she says forget it?”

  “Why would she?”

  “Because she’s territorial about her clients.”

  “Well, if she says forget it, I suppose that’s what you do.”

  Megan frowned. “That just seems mean.”

  Gwen shrugged. “You asked my opinion and I tried to give you a biblically sound answer.”

  “Right.” Megan hurried to finish her soup, then glanced at her watch. “Sorry to run, but I need to get back to work.”

  “Hey, it was great seeing you.”

  Megan nodded and reached for her bag.

  “By the way, we’re looking for people to help out at the mission.”

  “The mission?” Megan paused.

  “If you’re around on Christmas Day. Our singles group has offered to serve food that day, but a lot of people are going to be gone. We really need some more hands. Do you think you could come?”

  Megan remembered how she’d been one of the people who suggested their group do some kind of outreach program last year. How could she say no now? “Yeah, sure, I’d like to do that.”

  “Cool.” Gwen smiled. “And feel free to bring friends. Your roommates or your boyfriend or whomever.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” Megan waved. “See ya.”

  “God bless!”

  Megan never knew how to respond to that one. To say, “God bless!” back sounded a little phony to her, like she was parroting. Plus the phrase wasn’t exactly within Megan’s comfort zone. It wasn’t that she didn’t want God to bless her and everyone else for that matter, but a few years ago her whole church had gotten into this blessing thing—like they all expected God to do something special for each and every one of them. And not just within the spiritual realm either. Some people expected God to give them cars or houses or to pay off their credit card bills. Maybe it was lack of faith or something else, but Megan just hadn’t been so sure. She still wasn’t.

  Megan headed back to work and, as often was the case, a homeless woman was waiting on the corner next to the design firm. Because it was a habit, Megan fumbled for a couple of bucks, tucking them into the woman’s hand. And, as always, Megan said, “God loves you!” Now that was something that Megan was comfortable with—because she meant it.

  “Thank you, dear!” The woman waved a dirt-encrusted hand and smiled broadly enough to reveal her rotting teeth. Megan smiled back and waved as she hurried on past. Okay, it was a done deal. She would help at the mission on Christmas Day. Maybe her mom would like to join her too.

  Megan was about to go into the design firm when her phone rang. This time it was Marcus. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked cheerfully.

  She gave him the quick rundown about being stood up for lunch and then getting stuck with her zealous friend Gwen.

  “You should’ve called me. I would’ve rescued you.”

  “I never had a chance.” She sighed. “But Gwen did instruct me to invite you to help at the mission on Christmas Day.”

  “The mission?”

  “You know, they serve dinner to the homeless people. They need help with servers.”

  “Cool.”

  “Cool?” She was surprised. “You mean you’d be interested?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Great.” His response made Megan feel hopeful. “And how about coming to the singles group with me on Friday night?”

  “Oh, well …”

  She could tell by his tone that this didn’t interest him.

  “I was actually going to ask you to come with me to hear a jazz band on Friday night, Megan.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, they’re only here this weekend, and a friend of mine plays sax for them. I thought it’d be fun.”

  “Where are they playing?”

  “Zeke’s.”

  Zeke’s was a bar. And she wasn’t that surprised. It wasn’t like a secular jazz band was going to play in a church. Maybe because of her conversation with Gwen, or maybe because being in a bar presented such a stark contrast with being in the church singles group, Megan felt uncomfortable. Also, she noticed that Vera was rapidly coming up the walk toward her. “Can I get back to you on that?” she asked quietly. “I need to get to work now.”

  “Sure. Call me.”

  Megan gave Vera a quick nod, then hurried into the building and directly to her office. As she hung up her coat, she wondered if she was being too hard on Marcus, expecting too much from him too soon. But the next thing she knew, Vera was storming into her office and all thoughts of Marcus went sailing out the window.

  Fourteen

  Anna

  “I almost thought you were going to blow me off tonight,” said Edmond as he stopped by Anna’s office after work.

  “Blow you off?” she asked innocently.

  “As in, ‘See ya later, Edmond,’” he said as he helped her into her coat.

  “Hey, I promised you dinner,” said Anna. “I’m not backing out.”

  Edmond didn’t look convinced. “But maybe you were thinking about it?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So, we’re still on for six thirty then?” He still sounded like he expected her to bail on him.

  “That’s what I said.” She buttoned her coat.

  “And I’m picking you up?”

  “Unless you’d rather meet there.”

  “No, I’m happy to pick you up.”

  She forced a smile. “Great.”

  “Do you need a ride home?” he asked hopefully.

  “No,” said Anna. “Thanks.”

  “But I didn’t see your car in the lot.”

  “The weather wasn’t bad, so I walked. And I plan to walk home. I wanted to stop by the store on my way.”

  “But it’s dark out.”

  She gave him a warning glance. “Now you’re starting to sound like my mother.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I get it.”


  “See you at six thirty,” she said as she reached for her bag and headed toward the front door.

  “See ya!”

  Edmond was right, it was dark, and Anna wished that she’d taken him up on that ride. Not that she was afraid, exactly. But maybe a little uncomfortable. Growing up with her mother’s constant phobias and dire predictions had left its mark on her. Anna knew it was time to grow up. Wasn’t that one of the main reasons she’d moved away from home in the first place?

  So, with renewed confidence, she marched down the sidewalk and stopped at the small grocery store, where she got a quart of milk and a box of cereal and a few other things. Then she hurried on home. Bloomberg Place was less than three blocks away, and the streets were actually well lit. Other pedestrians just like her were out and about, and no one seemed the least bit concerned about any of it. By the time Anna was in the house, she realized that she wasn’t concerned either.

  But as she was putting her groceries away, she knew what concerned her most was tonight’s dinner with Edmond. He’d given her every opportunity to get out of it. It was as if he expected her to. And yet that had made her simply dig in her heels. She was determined to keep her promise to him, even if it meant she dumped him afterward.

  Was she really going to dump him?

  “You seem troubled,” said Megan as she came into the kitchen.

  Anna sighed and shook her head. “Flustered. I’m thinking of breaking up with Edmond tonight.”

  Megan frowned. “Too bad. He’s a nice guy.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why are you breaking up?” Megan seemed genuinely curious.

  “I’m not sure. I mean, he is a nice guy and I really like him. But there’s Jake to consider now.”

  “Meaning you’re choosing Jake over Edmond?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Megan put a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Maybe you should just take it one step at a time.”

  Anna thought about this, then nodded. “One step at a time. Okay.”

  So that’s what she was telling herself when Edmond picked her up. And what was rumbling in the back of her mind as she made small talk with him on the way to the restaurant. But once they were there, she was worried this was a big mistake. Why was she going to the trouble of introducing him to her parents if she was about to dump him? Or maybe she wasn’t about to dump him? And, really, dump was the wrong word. She would let him down gently.

 

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