This time, with Linus on her lap, Rowena got up carefully. She carried Linus over to the phone, getting there just before the machine was about to pick up.
"Hello?"
"Rowena, how could you do such a thing to your sister?"
"Mom, I really--"
"It's not as if you don't have a perfectly good boyfriend of your own. Well, pretty good for the kind of boy who would date a girl who isn't waiting for marriage."
"I thought we already covered that."
"And you know Chester is the first boyfriend your sister's had who hasn't cheated on her or stolen from her or--"
"Yeah, I know about all that," Rowena said. "So, um, you like Chester now? And you're not mad at Maralynne?"
"Maralynne needs me," said her mother, surprised. Rowena made a mental note to file this away for future reference. "I don't see how you could be so mean--"
"Mother, please. Let me explain. Maralynne won't talk to me, so--"
"I don't want to hear from you until you've apologized to your sister," her mother said. And that was that.
Rowena sat a while, petting Linus. She thought of calling Sammy, but decided to wait. A cup of tea--and a completed letter--and then she would see what she could do.
She put Linus down and made herself some tea. While it steeped, she went back to the letter.
"I don't think you've met Terese, but she's funny and she makes us--"
Makes us what? Rowena considered. She blew on her tea, still too hot to drink, and not quite dark enough. "She makes us laugh," she wrote. She picked up the pile of photos and found her favorite. She smiled, looking at it. She left it visible. She looked back at her letter; she was getting close to the bottom of the sheet now. "Nothing much to write about here," she wrote, and rolled her eyes. She changed the period to a semicolon and added, "everything's pretty quiet right now. Hope you like the pictures. Love, Rowena."
She got an envelope and her address book with her grandmother's address in it. She addressed the envelope, got a stamp, and stamped it. And then she sat looking at her letter.
"Everything's pretty quiet right now." She took a sip of her tea and went back to the phone.
"Hello?" Her sister sounded as if she'd been crying. How had all this happened?"
"Hi, Maralynne. I--" Bang! Rowena felt she should have expected that Maralynne would slam the phone down again. She waited a moment, then tried again. She got the answering machine.
"Maralynne, I'm sorry," she told the machine. "It's all a mistake. I'm not trying to steal Chester. I couldn't anyway," she went on, inspired at last. "I remember that first day when we met him, how he told me you were a goddess. Did I tell you he said that? He really did. And there's no way I could interfere with that if I tried. Maralynne--"
There was a click and for a moment Rowena was afraid she'd been hung up on again. But Maralynne said, "He said that?"
"He did. It was just about the first thing he said to Sammy and me." She paused, but Maralynne was silent. "Maralynne," Rowena said, "when I said I like him I meant I'm glad he makes you happy. And when I said--"
"He said I'm a goddess?"
"Yes, he did," Rowena said. "You can even ask him. I bet he remembers. I bet he remembers everything that happened that day."
She waited. And then Maralynne said, "You're not trying to steal him?"
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
"And--but the things you told Mom . . ."
"She got everything all mixed up. Just--" Rowena stopped herself just in time; she'd been about to say something that, repeated to their mother, would only start another fight. "She got all mixed up. I told her he was an expert on Web sites and she took that to mean he's a pornographer. And so on."
Maralynne giggled a bit and Rowena relaxed. "Listen," she said. "Why don't you call Chester up--if you don't already have a date tonight--and do something really special? Really romantic. You know? Tell him it's `just because.'"
"I'll do that," Maralynne said, pleased. "And I can put on his favorite outfit and pose for the GlamCam . . ."
Rowena really did not want to hear about this, and especially not now. "So we're okay?"
"Yeah," Maralynne said. "We're okay."
"Great. Thanks, Maralynne." Rowena closed her eyes a moment. She could smell her tea. "And if you could do one thing for me, Maralynne, please? Before you call Chester, if you could call Mom up and tell her we're not fighting any more? Because that way she might believe it. And nothing I've said to her today has come out the way I meant it."
Maralynne giggled. "Right," she said.
"Hey," Rowena told her. "Let's just hope I'm doing better on the letter I'm writing to Grandma." That got another giggle, and when they rang off Rowena felt much, much better.
She drank her tea. And then she picked up her letter and wrote on the bottom of it, "P.S.--Maralynne says hi." Not strictly accurate, but it was a thought. She took her teacup to the sink and rinsed it out.
The phone rang. Rowena went to pick it up. "Hello?"
"Rowena, your sister just called. I am so glad you've made it up to her."
"Thanks, Mom."
"And you're not going to try to steal her boyfriend?"
"No, Mom."
"I am so glad!" her mother said. "What was that Maralynne said you were doing? Writing your grandma?"
"Yes."
"How nice! You are such a good daughter."
"Thanks, Mom."
That over with, Rowena went back to her letter. She took one more look at it, and then added to the postscript, "Mom says hi, too." She folded it, set the pictures carefully inside it, put it in the envelope, and sealed it. After she mailed it, she could call Sammy and see if she could set up a romantic date with him.
"But no Web sites," she told Linus, and he wagged his tail.
Rowena Gets Upgraded
Fiction by S. D. Youngren
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Rowena sat back down at her desk and checked her telephone for messages. "Hello," said Terese's voice. "I guess you're taking a late lunch or something. Well, it turns out I'm having dinner at my mom's on Thursday, so can you make it tomorrow night instead? Call me at home; I think I've used up my quota of personal calls for today. Maybe the whole week." She paused slightly. "Talk to you later."
Rowena sighed. Tomorrow night was fine with her, but she and Terese had tried to get together for--
"Did you hear?" Lorraine broke into her thoughts. "Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed are going to be at the presentation tomorrow."
"No," Rowena said, "I hadn't heard."
"Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed?" asked Marjorie. "Wow."
"I know," Lorraine said. She shifted her weight to lean on Rowena's desk.
"Think if I get a new haircut and a really slinky dress they'll give me a raise?" Marjorie asked.
"Marjorie!" Rowena said. "You're sounding like my sister!"
Marjorie was not disturbed. "It worked for Annabelle."
"Oh, God." Berna, passing through, rolled her eyes dramatically. "Let me guess. You're talking about another soap opera, aren't you?"
"You leave my soaps alone. As a matter of fact--"
"Yes?"
"As a matter of fact, I was talking about the same one as last time. Another Life to Live."
"You do sound like my sister," Rowena said. "Lorraine, watch out." She grabbed her paper clip cup just in time, moved it farther from Lorraine's corner of her desk.
"Have you guys heard?" Sara asked, coming up. "Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed are going to be at the presentation."
"Old news," said Marjorie, and yawned extravagantly.
"Well, I think it's exciting," Lorraine said.
"They say they're going to change everything around," said Sara. She too leaned against Rowena's desk--right next to the newly-shifted paper clips. Rowena picked them up again and set them right in front of herself. "I don't know that I can get used to another system."
"They say it's supposed to be easier," Lorraine offered.
"The easiest system," said Sara, "is the one I already know how to use. Follow me?"
"That's what MaryBeth said."
"Marjorie--I'm not kidding--"
"I'm sure if Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed think it'll be good for the company, it'll be good for us," Lorraine said.
"What planet have you been living on?" Berna asked. "`Planet of the Perfect Bosses?' There's a science fiction epic for you."
"Are you insulting our employers?"
"I'm just saying I'm reserving judgment until I see the thing."
"Well, I'm looking forward to it," Jim said, from out of nowhere. "It probably is better than our current system. And it'll get us out of the office for a day, and we'll get to see Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed."
Rowena picked a paper clip out of her cup. Mr. Rorschach and Mr. Schmed.
Rowena, on her coffee break, dialed Terese's home number. "Hi, it's me," she told the answering machine. "Tomorrow night will be fine. I've got that presentation thing at work tomorrow, so don't bother calling me there. I'll check my machine at home before I leave for your place, so if you have to cancel, leave me a message." She hung up, then called Sammy.
"The saga continues," she said.
Sammy was amused. "Hi," he said. "What's up?"
"Terese canceled Thursday, so if you're still free then . . ."
"For you, I'm free," Sammy said. "You spoke to her?"
"I got her answering machine. This makes two times for her and two for me. This round."
"You're keeping score."
"Phone tag. You know. Next time I'm just going to say, `You're It,' and hang up." Sammy laughed. "Anyway, I told her I'm going over tomorrow night, provided this secret or whatever it is can wait that long. And assuming I survive this meeting-thing at work."
"There, there."
"I should have said not at work, since it's at a hotel. But it's hardly a vacation."
"Who knows?" Sammy said. "Maybe the `elegant surroundings' will mellow Eloise out."
"Mellow Eloise out." Rowena turned this over in her mind.
"I said `maybe,'" Sammy told her.
Rowena was surprised to find, on walking into the meeting-room at the hotel, that most of her coworkers had already arrived. She did not wonder long at the reason for this; the table was loaded with food and beverages. Rowena helped herself to a muffin and a cup of tea, and looked about for a place to sit.
"Rowena! Over here!" It was Berna.
"No, over here!" called Leslie Campbell. Rowena went and sat next to Berna.
"What're you doing?" Leslie yelled. He got up, came over, and spent several minutes trying to get Sara, who sat on Rowena's other side, to trade places with him.
"Dream on, Romeo," Sara said. "It wouldn't do you any good anyway. Go back where you were."
"What's the matter with you people?" Leslie whined. He went away.
"Thanks, Sara," Rowena said. She picked up the folder in front of her, leafed through it. "What is this stuff?"
"ZIPPY Office," Berna said. Rowena understood why Berna had, a couple of minutes ago, threatened to unzip Leslie's head. "A new era in office management."
"I barely got used to the old one," Sara complained.
"Frankly, I think most of our problems they can't help us with. Like that one there." Berna nodded towards Leslie.
"This'll be great," said Lorraine, dropping into the seat on Sara's other side. "You'll see."
"Where's Mr. Schmed?" Sara asked suddenly. "And Mr. Rorschach?"
"You know how these important types are. They're never on time for anything."
"Good morning, fellow employees of Rorschach & Schmed." It was Eloise, up at the front of the room. "Thank you for coming to our little meeting." Little meeting, indeed, Rowena thought; the entire company seemed to be present . . . except for Mr. Schmed and, she presumed, the legendary Mr. Rorschach, whom she had never seen. "I'm afraid Mr. Rorschach was not able to attend after all, but he wishes everyone a nice day." Eloise consulted her notepad; she always used the big yellow legal kind. "You may have heard we are going to be switching over to a new system, called ZIPPY Office. I expect everyone to embrace ZIPPY Office, and to continue to do their very best for Rorschach & Schmed." She glanced briefly in Leslie Campbell's direction. "Now I would like to introduce Annette. Annette is from ZIPPYCo, and she will tell you everything you need to know about the many advantages and uses of ZIPPY Office. Annette?"
And Eloise moved aside to turn the meeting over to a very perky young woman; a small woman with a big smile. "Hello, everybody," the young woman said. "I'm Annette, and I'm ZIPPY."
Berna gave a partially-stifled snort. Rowena supposed that sitting next to her for this presentation would be a little problematic, even if she did agree with most of what Berna said. "And today," Annette continued, "I'm going to show you how you can be ZIPPY, too."
"That's what she thinks," Sara muttered.
"Dream on, Titania," Berna said. She and Sara looked at each other and giggled. Rowena began to feel just a little sorry for Annette.
"Where would we be today if nothing ever changed, nothing ever improved?" Annette wanted to know. "What if we were still living in caves? What if we'd never learned about fire? What if we didn't have VCRs?" Rowena found herself looking, briefly, over Annette's head. "Think of how all those things improve your life. Now there's ZIPPY Office to improve your work life. Pretty soon you'll find yourself wondering how you ever got along without it!"
And she actually began to sing. She sang a chorus of "Getting Better All the Time," charging dutifully through the first line and then inviting Rowena and her coworkers to sing along. Nobody moved. Annette finished singing and beamed at everyone, just as if she hadn't noticed their lack of enthusiasm--a lack of enthusiasm, Rowena thought, that bordered in most cases on downright sullenness.
"I must say, she's making work look pretty good," Berna muttered. "Not ZIPPY Office; just work."
As the presentation went on Rowena pitied Annette more and more, despite what she was doing to them all. Nobody wanted to sing; nobody wanted to answer Annette's ZIPPY questions; nobody wanted to even move. Through all this, she soldiered on, cheerful and perky--at least on the outside. Rowena couldn't help feeling that nobody should have to go through all this--as audience member or presenter.
"Now," Annette went on, "let's all play a game."
"Excuse me," said Steve. "I--uh--well, I've been looking through this folder, and none of this stuff has anything to do with my job. Do I still have to do this?"
If it wasn't anything to do with Steve's job, it probably wasn't anything to do with Rowena's, either. She opened the brochure, keeping alert for Annette's reply.
"Are you gonna be a fuddy-duddy?" Annette demanded. "'Cause if you are, you'll have to wear a Fuddy-Duddy Hat!"
"I . . . I just thought . . . I mean, it doesn't look like this stuff--"
"We have a Fuddy-Duddy!" Annette cried. She took a conical cardboard hat from a box on the floor, and advanced with it to Steve's place at the table. He tried half-heartedly to protest, and she popped the hat onto his head. FUDDY-DUDDY, said the hat, colorfully. Berna whistled under her breath. Rowena flipped through the brochure. With luck she would look dutiful, and not like another Fuddy-Duddy.
"I hope nobody else is going to be a Fuddy-Duddy," Annette said, "but I've got lots and lots of hats, just in case."
And she smiled, a very perky smile. She should have looked, Rowena thought, very nearly sinister.
"Okay!" Annette said, from under a newly-donned purple fright wig. "So what's different about me?"
Nobody spoke. The atmosphere in the meeting-room had deteriorated, and was continuing to deteriorate. Rowena kept waiting for the presentation to end, Sara kept peeking at her watch, and Berna threatened, under her breath, to "snap" if this went on much longer.
"Anybody?" Annette asked, still cheery. No one moved. Everybody tried not to look at ever
ybody else. "You!" Annette cried, pointing at Marjorie. "What's different about me?"
Marjorie cringed dully in her seat. It took her a moment to answer. "You put a wig on," she said, without inflection.
"Right! And so what do we do now?" Everyone sat stonily, doubtless hoping (with one exception) that Annette was still talking to Marjorie.
"We sing the ZIPPY Difference Song! Everybody join in!" She began to sing, all by herself of course. She sounded to Rowena like a kindergarten teacher. Rowena looked down and pretended to study the lyric sheet Annette had given her.
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