Hat Trick

by Morris Fenris

  Where, clearly, she had made her mark. The internship had led to a paid position, then to a tentative try with this or that of her own design, then to support and encouragement from the owners for an expansion of her talents, then eventually to a branching out on her own.

  “You seem to be doing quite well,” said Jeff with genuine admiration. “Once we had our appointment set up, I took the liberty of doing an internet search on your name and business, for background, before today’s consultation. I’m impressed. Hats, of all things!”

  The green eyes crinkled with amusement. “I seem to be a throwback, Jeff. For centuries women have worn hats of every kind, color, and shape, on every occasion, to every function. Then, during the sixties, they began to fall out of fashion.”

  “Guess so. I can’t say I ever really paid much attention, though.”

  “I did. I love wearing hats, and I’ve missed having a great variety available. So I decided to try reviving the style, producing such pretty things that women would want to start wearing them again.”

  Leaning back in his chair, with the subtle shadings of mid-morning light behind him, Jeff toyed with his favorite Parker pen while he contemplated this surprising vision. ”Successful, apparently.”

  “Well, yes. I think they speak to romance, Jeff, and my buyers find that appealing.” The light that stood him to such advantage in dealing with clients treated her sweetly and sensuously, adding soft shadows to emphasize cheekbones and lip curves. “Hats can be so complimentary. And exciting. And coy, or playful, or even outrageous. Why, just look at the exotic displays put on by those ladies attending the Royal Ascot Racetrack, in Berkshire!”

  “True.” He chuckled. “Big blowsy things about a yard wide. Imagine putting one of those on top of your head. Let alone keeping it there.”

  “And then, on the other side of the coin, there are always the fascinators—those delectable little bits of lace or net, with sequins and feathers and flowers. Often just used as a hair clip.”

  “Oh, I’ll grant you that point, entirely. You can be credited for creating a trend, Liv, and riding a wave into something new. Or maybe something old, but different. And that’s all part of the whole fashion scene, isn’t it?

  “Absolutely. Thank you for recognizing that, on my behalf.”

  Jeff shrugged. “Looks to me like you’ve done one helluva job, coming as far as you’ve come in this short time.” Then, with another chuckle, he involuntarily flashed the famous dimples. “Hats. Who’d’a thunk it, huh? Sure doesn’t seem like the sort of thing to set the world on fire.”

  Slowly Olivia turned her head, just enough to tilt and angle her provocative cloche for a more inviting look. “Doesn’t it?” she asked in low, throaty tones.

  Snap! Jeff’s black lacquer ballpoint dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers to land solidly onto the wooden floor and roll several feet away. With a muttered word that might or might not have been a curse, he bent to retrieve it, straightening once again with a reddened face and a silk tie that needed rearranging.

  “Huh. Uh—well.” What had happened to his glib tongue, his easy charm? He felt as gauche and awkward in her commanding presence as a moon-faced teenager. Never so in the past; during their brief time together, his had been the leading voice and the deciding vote in any situation.

  Her long-lashed eyes, partially concealed by her hat brim, sparkled with what was probably mischief, as if she could read his every thought and felt amused by it.

  “No glasses now,” he blurted out, in a complete faux pas.

  “No. No glasses now. There’s a marvelous new treatment called Lasik Surgery. And I lost weight, and had some minor rhinoplasty work. All the things I wanted and needed to do for myself ten years ago, but couldn’t afford at the time.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly had—well, I mean, good stuff to have—uh…” Floundering, he skidded to a stop.

  Silently she studied him for a long minute, before admitting that, at first, in setting up and starting her company, Just Livvie, the eccentric look had had a lot going for it. “It made me quite unique, you understand. A rebel individual, with my funky specs and my quirky nose. But then, after a while, I wanted to feel—pretty…”

  “You’ve certainly triumphed there,” he assured her. “When you walked into my office, I hardly recognized you.”

  “Didn’t you?” Another brief silence, this one slightly oppressive, like heavy humid air before the strike of a thunderstorm. “Well. And you seem to have prospered in life, Jeff.”

  He brightened. “Oh, this? Yeah, some good luck—being in the right place at the right time—plus some darned hard work. I must confess, I was astonished to hear from you. How’d you track me down, anyway?”

  “I have my resources. And you’re married, too, I see.”

  For just a split second, reminiscing, basking in what seemed to be the admiration of this newfound beauty, he’d forgotten. “Sure am. Five years, now…to Annajane Merrill. And all settled out on Queens Street.”

  “Indeed? Congratulations. Do you have time to look over my portfolio, and give me your opinion?”

  Taken slightly aback by her abrupt change of subject, Jeff nodded. “Sure do. I’ve cleared my calendar for the whole morning. Whatcha got with you, Liv?”

  Bending to pick up her snazzy color-coordinated tote, she retrieved her small laptop and a thick binder. For a quiet interlude, broken only by periodic questions from Jeff and equally quiet responses from Olivia, he reviewed figures and charts, looked over information, tapped into his computer’s system to confirm. Meanwhile keeping his surprise carefully hidden as to the substantial amount of money she had managed to accumulate.

  Finally, finishing up with what he could on a somewhat limited basis, he returned his attention, and a puzzled frown, to the lady waiting patiently on the other side of his desk. “You’re right,” he told her. “Something is definitely screwy here, from what I can see. I just can’t quite put my finger on it without digging deeper.”

  “That sounds time-consuming.”

  Feeling more in control of the interview, now that he was standing on solid ground again, he nodded. “I won’t lie to you, Liv. Yes, it will be time-consuming, and, yes, Thomas Yates does stipulate that I have to charge a fee. Not, however, for clients.”

  “I rather thought that, actually.” As she shifted position, the draped cowl of her blouse rippled smoothly over cleavage any man would sell his soul to get a glimpse of. Jeff’s fingers involuntarily curled. “Then let’s do it, Jeff. I’ll go ahead and get my funds away from the other so-called financial advisor, and that will give you approval to get started.”

  It was easy enough for him to recall that his sole purpose during their consultation was to straighten out any discrepancies, along with hopefully being able to make more money for her, rather than counting this as a sizable feather in his cap.

  “That’s fine. Let me just have you sign some forms, giving permission for your account to be transferred here. Then I’ll fax them to the other guy—” he glanced up with the old familiar twinkle in his blue eyes, “—and that will get the ball rolling. If you’re free on Friday, we can meet again and talk some more. Does that work for you?”

  “That absolutely works for me. Thank you, Jeff.” Tucking all her business paraphernalia back into the tote, she rose in one swift motion as smooth as the swoop of a bird’s wing and reached out a manicured hand. “Till Friday, then. I appreciate your doing this.”

  It wasn’t until she had swept out of his office that Jeff, watching, let go the breath he had been holding tight in his chest.

  Chapter Two

  The fair June weather was still holding sweet and balmy when Olivia returned to Jeff’s office on Friday afternoon. The most perfect sort of weather for whatever anyone might have planned, with picturesque surroundings: lush red roses and neat beds of fragrant lavender being visited by tipsy bees; white clouds scudding gently across a baby blue sky; dapples of sun shadow through groves of map
le and oak showing off new leaves. On such a perfect day, even traffic noises did not intrude, nor the distant growl of lawn mowers.

  Inside the distinctive, brown-and green-toned lobby of the six story office building which housed Thomas Yates Investments, Olivia was given appreciative glances from several male passersby. She could only conclude that her choice of attire must be a hit. This morning she had donned a form-fitting pencil-skirted dress of bold black buffalo check, under a lightweight belted sweater in her trademark turquoise. Even her strappy blue-green high-heeled sandals set the mood for spring.

  Of course, it might be her hat that was attracting attention. This was of aqua-dyed straw, encircled by a wide matching satin ribbon crumpled into what resembled flower petals; its wide brim curved out and flirtatiously sideways around her face. An original, by Just Livvie. And a winner, if she were any judge of male reaction.

  To be on the safe side, she returned every smile with one of her own.

  The elevator was taking its sweet time getting down to the first floor. Finally, it reached her level and the doors opened so she could step inside. Alone, which was a relief.

  Olivia drew in a deep breath. To the rest of the world she might be exuding self-confidence, so sure of herself and every move; but down deep her middle was quivering like a pit of quicksand. No matter her beautiful and expensive wardrobe, no matter her net worth, no matter her myriad accomplishments, what she saw in the mirror every day was still that overweight, messy-haired, bespectacled plain girl who had always yearned to be one of the popular crowd. In her mind, she had not yet attained that dream, and probably never would.

  All this male attention was flattering. It was a credit to her physical attributes. It was also overwhelming and slightly scary. How she presented herself was not the real Olivia Bower. It was the mask she slipped on, to fool the public.

  “Hi, Liv. Glad to see you found you way back without any problems.” It was Jeff, greeting her at the doorway of the main office—as if he’d been watching for her arrival—with, surprisingly, a half-hug. In full view of everyone, he walked back to his own area with one arm slung around her shoulders. “C’mon, I’ve got some things worked out and we can sit and discuss my recommendations. Want a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thank you. Later, perhaps.”

  “Okay, sure. Here, have a seat and get comfortable. May I just say—” he paused, to deliberately send an approving glance down and up her costume du jour,”—that, once again, you’ve passed all my expectations. You look—spectacular.”

  Her elegant ensconce into the chair he offered gave no hint of her pounding heart and inner turmoil. “You had—expectations—?” she purred up at him.

  “Just about seeing you again. And wondering what kind of hat you’d be wearing today. You don’t disappoint, Just Livvie. That’s a high standard you set for all other women.”

  “Indeed.”

  Whether she was pleased by the compliments with which she was being lavished, he couldn’t tell. But he wasn’t about to stop. Not when every word he spoke was true.

  “Well, then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Olivia’s accounts had been transferred without a quibble, he told her, and everything had been set up for her use and convenience at Thomas Yates Investments. For an hour or more they discussed online reports, website information, her accessibility to statements, check-writing privileges, any fees involved, and the like.

  “And the discrepancies?” she finally asked, once the business portion of the meeting had been taken care of.

  “Hard to tell if anything deliberate was done, Livvie. But whatever was going on, it looked like some shoddy bookkeeping practices that we here at TY would never condone. However, rest assured, everything has been straightened out, and I think you’ll find it’s clear sailing from here on.” He chuckled. “As long as the market keeps slowly picking up again, that is.”

  Nodding, she crossed one slender leg over the other enough that her tight skirt inched its way north instead of staying south. “Yes, that is a definite concern of mine. I’ve lost so much already…”

  Distracted by the view, Jeff cleared his throat and forced his gaze away. “You and a whole bunch of other people, unfortunately. But just hang in there, and I think we’ll be able to dig our way out after a while. Actually, now might be the time to buy a few stocks, or some property, while prices are so low.”

  “Oh, no, Jeff, I don’t think I can do that.” For the first time, her expression showed a trace of anxiety. “I don’t tolerate risk very well. In fact, if it were up to me, I’d be putting all my money under a mattress.”

  “You and half the world about now, honey,” he laughed. “But I think we’ve got you in a good place, with our various allotments between stocks, bonds, mutual funds, and so on. And please call me anytime you have a question or concern, okay? I’m here to help, whenever I can.”

  “Well, truthfully…” she paused, gaze focused momentarily on the wide open window behind him, before swerving back to his handsome, interested face, “I had hoped I might be able to convince you to join me for dinner tonight. As a thanks for all your help with this knotty problem of mine.”

  Taken aback, he considered the offer. “You know I’m married, Liv,” he said gently.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Well, never mind. It was just a random thought, at the last minute.” Gathering up all her paperwork, document copies, printouts, even an extra pen, she began to rise.

  “No—wait a minute.” He reached for his calendar, perused through his schedule for the day, then looked up with a smile. “Annajane has some kind of museum opening and gala tonight, downtown. But I wasn’t planning to go; it’s her thing, not mine. I’ll just give her a call shortly and let her know I’ll be with a client. When and where would you like to meet, Olivia?”

  *

  Letting his wife know about his change of plans for the evening turned out to be far more difficult than he’d expected.

  “No, I told you I wouldn’t be going with you to that artsy-smartsy affair tonight. I hate that kind of stuff, and you know it.”

  “Oh, as opposed to the political schmoozing that you do with your locker room buddies?” Her voice came over the line with excessive coolness; Jeff was surprised not to see ice forming on the receiver in his hand.

  “Most of that is business, AJ,” he countered, in an equally frosty tone. “Networking. With a little bit of guy stuff thrown in, just for enjoyment. Surely you understand enjoyment, don’t you?”

  “You’re only doing this because you know this event is important to me. I expect you to escort me tonight, Jefferson.”

  Oh, that was pulling out the big guns. She never used his full name unless she was really pissed.

  With a sigh, Jeff turned his back to the office door—fortunately closed—and stared out the window. The rays of a mild late afternoon sun were slanting through the top of a towering birch outside, where a wren had landed to scold its little heart out, for whatever reason a bird had to scold. He felt the same way.

  “Look, Annajane,” two could play the name game, “I’m meeting a client for dinner in a couple hours. This is a new client, carrying a fairly substantial balance that’s just been transferred to TY. Need I remind you that this is how my choice of occupation works?”

  “She?”

  “What d’ you mean, she?”

  “I’m guessing your dinner partner is female.”

  Damn! Jeff was immediately put on the defensive. “I do, indeed, work with an equal ratio of male and female clients,” he told her evenly. “Is that a problem?”

  “No more so than usual.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I leave it to your imagination, Jefferson. I’m sure you can come up with an answer.”

  Genuinely bewildered, and frustrated as well, he was suddenly seized by the mad desire to hurl his phone onto the floor and hammer it into submission. “What the hell are you talking about, AJ? Where did all this come
from? Are we having a fight?”

  “Only if you’d really like to, darling. I’m sure it can be arranged. Until then, you can enjoy the services of your latest little floozy.”

  “Anna.” As his outrage at an unjust accusation grew, his tone turned neither to ice nor to fire but instead hardened into blue steel. “We’ve been over this before. I have never—never!—done anything even slightly suggestive with anyone else since we were married. In five years, you’ve been the only woman in my life. In my house. In my bed. I don’t understand why you persist with these—”

  “Of course, there’s always an answer, isn’t there?” Deliberately, insultingly, she yawned, and Jeff’s outrage flared anew. “Well, you just go ahead and have your evening out with your gal of the hour, and I’ll go ahead and have mine. I’ll ask Roger to escort me.”

  “Roger,” repeated Jeff between his teeth. “Roger Kendricks?”

  “One and the same, darling. I’ll see you at home in the morning.”

  She clicked off, leaving him to listen to dead air before he slammed down the receiver.

  Roger Kendricks. Their milksop of a neighbor in the Cuddlesack Queens. Divorced, fancy-free, and loaded. Still, he did seem to be a Renaissance Man, and perhaps that jumble of talents was what had attracted Annajane to invite him out tonight.

  The nerve of that woman!

  Trembling with anger, he forced himself to sit down behind his desk, that bulwark against insecurity, and breathe slowly and deeply to restore calm.

  This vocal confrontation with Annajane had been a long time coming, with events gradually leading up to a huge rift between them—a rift? An abyss!—almost since their wedding day. But he was feeling blindsided by this afternoon’s affray, blowing in as it had, apparently out of nowhere. What had sparked this particular unpleasantry?

  Annajane was, he knew, far too well-bred to fight. No, her chosen method was a sneak attack, using innuendo and sarcasm, a vicious combination. How had he missed seeing that trait during their dating days? As for snarling at each other over the telephone line, he much preferred a face-to-face encounter. Far better to battle in person, where expressions and actions could be seen, and the battle could be continued until its eventual conclusion, instead of just cutting off all communication with a phone hang-up.