Hat Trick

by Morris Fenris

  For a moment she stood fondly watching him while he sloshed onto a place mat. Clumsy, active, messy as he was, she wouldn’t give up Bruno for any amount of money in the world. He’d been her loyal, loving companion for five years; more joy and compassion filled his giant doggy heart than those of many humans.

  Finished, he wiggled his way toward her, collapsed with a sigh exactly in the middle of her path between counter and stove, and sent her a happy grin.

  “Oh, Bruno,” she murmured, reaching to tousle his floppy ears. “Why couldn’t you have been born a man?”

  *

  Her outfits never ceased to amaze him. Especially comparing the sleek and sophisticated Olivia Bower of today with the rather frumpy sweater-and-jeans clad girl of the past.

  This afternoon she was in a more casual boat-necked dress of some soft navy fabric, with a narrow belted waist that emphasized her impressive curves both above and below, and a full swingy skirt that emphasized her slender legs. From top to bottom she attracted attention; men appreciated her frankly female appearance, and women envied her daring, fashion-forward air. Peep-toe pumps added flair to her attire, and the off-center brimmed hat piled to the side with navy chiffon flowers completed her look.

  All in all, she might have just stepped off the pages of some current trendy magazine, instead of through the elevator doors into the hallway of Thomas Yates Investments.

  “Miss Bower!” Even hard-boiled Patty seemed taken aback. “You look—you look—”

  “Stunning,” supplied Jeff, emerging from his office. “As always. Hi, Liv. Come on in.”

  Another week had passed, and the replacement paperwork had arrived from home office, waiting for her signature. Somehow, Jeff reflected, as he ushered her to a chair, these appointments always seemed to end up on Friday. In the afternoon. The late afternoon. Coincidence? Or his own subconscious arrangement?

  “Thanks for making another trip,” he told her as he seated himself behind the desk. “And, once again, I sincerely apologize for the confusion and the delay.”

  “Jeff, it’s all right. I was able to clear my schedule with no problem whatsoever. I just appreciate your taking care of this so promptly.”

  Light glinted in the memorable blue eyes, and dimples flickered. “We’re so damned polite it’s sickening. Okay, let’s get this finished so I don’t screw up any more of your weekend plans.”

  She could have protested that she had no weekend plans. She didn’t. “That’s fine. Just show me where I’m supposed to sign.”

  Some fifteen minutes later, with signature affixed and all documents in order, Jeff flipped through the pages one by one, just to double-check, before slipping everything into a bulky FedEx envelope. “There, ready to go. I’ll ask Patty to call for a pickup and we’ll have your account back on track again. So, Liv, what do you have on tap for the weekend?”

  With a shrug, she put aside her pen and leaned back to send him a comfortable glance. “Some business errands to run tomorrow, and a meeting set up with a few people who are interested in the prospects of my little company.”

  “Huh. Sounds like anybody’s average workday. Nothing fun in that schedule?”

  “Oh, a few things, here and there.” Her smile picked up a hint of mischief from his own. “I might ask the same thing of you, Jeff.”

  “Yeah, about the same. I plan to spend some time here at the office in the morning. Then I think AJ has some kinda dinner party planned.”

  “A dinner party. That should be interesting. Wonderful cuisine, important guests, stimulating conversation…”

  He laughed. “You paint a very rosy picture, Miss Bower. But I’m afraid it won’t be anywhere near that great. A bunch of old fogies who smoke cigars and brag about their latest big killing in the market, now that prices have nicely dropped for their convenience. Most of them sit on the Board of Directors for The Feldspar Museum with Annajane.”

  Just then, a minor commotion in the hall outside caught his attention, and he had half-risen to see what was going on when his door burst open and the lady in question strode in.

  “I heard my name, Jefferson. I do hope your comment was flattering.”

  He was standing, now, stiffly and sturdily as any soldier-at-arms, and the expression on his face did not bode well for marital privilege. Brows drawn together in a frown, jaw muscle clenched, free left hand curled into a tight fist, the posture presented was tough and intimidating.

  “I am with a client,” he informed her between his teeth.

  “Of course you are, darling, I can see that.” Breezy and arrogant as always, she stood hipshot in designer elegance: form-fitting striped sweater in beige and black, slim double-breasted blazer, and sleek black chinos. Her disdainful scan swept over Olivia, still seated quietly in her chair, from top to bottom and back again. “Love the hat.”

  Unwilling to cross swords, Just Livvie lifted a steady gaze. “Thank you.”

  “Forgive me, Olivia.” The words came out hard as stone. “Annajane, this is my client, Olivia Bower. She has her own company, and has kindly put her trust in me to handle her financial accounts. Liv, my wife, Annajane Quinley.”

  She reached out one imperious hand; it wasn’t clear, for a moment, if she was expecting it to be shaken or kissed. “How d’ you do? So this is the reason for the suit.”

  “The suit?” Jeff looked honestly perplexed. “What are you talking about? I always wear a suit to work.”

  “Work, is it? Of course. But not a brand-new suit, darling, fresh out of the bag.” Smirking, she wagged a knowing finger at him. “And not a new shirt and new tie. All so nicely color coordinated, too. You’re looking quite dapper today, Jefferson. And now I understand why. Your latest tootsie, I assume.”

  A flush of irritation had mounted over his lean cheekbones. “AnnaJane, your behavior is insufferable, even for you, and I would ask for an immediate apology if I thought you might be capable of it. But we’ll discuss that at another time. What exactly is so important that you needed to barge into my office during a business meeting?”

  She slithered closer, the better to prove possession of a husband she had always suspected of straying: brushing at a sideburn, smoothing a lapel, settling a pocket handkerchief. All the while with a sly glance toward the client who was growing more and more uncomfortable with the scene she was being forced to witness.

  “Why, I just popped in to say hello, Jefferson. As your wife, am I not entitled to do just that?”

  Jeff, moving as unobtrusively as possible, captured her hand only to force it away. A loving touch was something she had rarely exhibited even at the beginning of their marriage; lately, not at all. To be fawned over like a trophy that must be displayed, in front of what she perceived as a rival, was galling and undignified. And an affront to his manhood.

  When he could find a few minutes to spare, he was going to ponder very long and hard about why he had found it so necessary to marry this woman.

  “As my wife, you are entitled to pop in any time you want,” agreed Jeff in soft, meaningful tones. “But only to the outer office when it’s clear I’m with a client.” Perching casually on the corner of his desk, as if this were a day like any other, he looked across at her with absolutely no expression at all. “You’ve just taken me by surprise, that’s all, since your popping in has happened so rarely.”

  “Ah. Well, then.” Her glance, bright with malice, flicked from her husband to his visitor. “Perhaps I’ll have to do that more often, darling. What d’ you say?

  “I think you’ll do whatever suits your mood at the time, Annajane. Now that you’ve disrupted my afternoon, perhaps you could find something else to catch your fancy for a while?”

  “Absolutely, if you insist. Will you be home for dinner?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll give you a call later.”

  Annajane nodded as if that were precisely the answer she had expected, and was prepared for it. “That’s fine. Perhaps I’ll give Roger a ring, and see if he’s free to dis
cuss plans for the remodeling venture I’ve signed up for.”

  “Why don’t you do just that?” he said evenly.

  Swooping down, she plastered a provocative, deliberate, and almost insulting kiss upon his astonished lips. “Ta, darling. You have yourself a—fun evening.” And with that, she was gone, taking with her the scent of Chanel No. 5 and petulant dissatisfaction.

  Silence for a moment as the door closed.

  Then:

  Simultaneously, one in perfect synchronization with the other, said: “I don’t know why I—” (Jeff); and “I don’t know why you—” (Olivia). And both stopped short, before uttering the final, fatal words.

  “Livvie, I am sorry. I am so damned sorry. That you should have been subjected to that—that—display…”

  She had hunkered down in her chair, as if to escape the waves of hostility slapping forward that had threatened to inundate and swamp her very being. “It’s all right, Jeff.”

  “No, it isn’t all right at all. That she should treat you like that—talk to you like that—God, I can’t apologize enough!” He drew in a deep breath, grounding his anger. Then, still growling low and ferocious, he thrust the fingers of both hands through his hair until the tendrils stood up in endearing spikes. “Unconscionable! We’ve been having some problems for a while, but, this—my God!”

  Recovering, Olivia leaned forward slightly to offer solace. “Jeff, whatever is going on—well, that’s something you will have to work out. I’m sorry it’s come to such—uh—ugliness.”

  “It wouldn’t have been that way with you, would it?” he blurted out. Then, aghast, apologized once more. “Sorry, sorry, shouldn’t have gone there. It’s just—more and more, I’m beginning to feel like you were the one who got away, Livvie. And I’m the one who let you.”

  She simply stared at him in silence. Finally, shifting position, she whispered his name.

  “Yeah, I know. Water under the bridge, and all that. It’s just—long before you showed up here a few weeks ago, I sometimes wondered… Well.” He gave himself a little rueful shake, as if to dispel lingering memories. “So, Livvie. Business is finished. Wanna go have an early dinner?”

  A slow, somewhat sorrowful back-and-forth of her behatted head. “Jeff, surely you must see that you can’t simply fall back on my being available for companionship every time something gets—um—upset in your personal life.”

  “Well, sure. I see that.” Crestfallen, he paused. Then, “Does that mean you don’t wanna go have an early dinner?”

  “Oh, Jeff.” She sighed. “You always were able to wheedle me into doing something I shouldn’t have.”

  Moving closer, he caught both her hands in his and pulled her gently upright. His boyish, compelling face wore an expression of pensive nostalgia she couldn’t remember ever seeing before.

  “C’mon, Livvie. Forget a boring meal at some stuffy restaurant. Let’s go for a walk in the park and grab some hot dogs at a stand. What d’ you say?”

  Surprised, she glanced down. “I can hardly go any place like that, like this.”

  “No problem,” he told her huskily. The tip of his index finger rested lightly on her full lower lip, then slid from one corner of her mouth to the other in one of the most erotic gestures she had ever known. “Oddly enough, we have department stores around here.”

  It was the perfect kind of rain, pattering down softly against the windowpane with a sound like the rustle of autumn leaves. A light, fresh breeze blew in, lifting and moving gauzy bedroom curtains like the night god’s breath, in and out, in and out, adding sweetness to the air and coziness to the surroundings. The slow drift of pale clouds had dimmed the midnight moon’s luster as effectively as turning off a switch.

  All in all, every detail had come together, after a long and arduous day, to ensure a quick trip to dreamland.

  And yet, Olivia lay still awake in her well-dressed queen-size bed, with its pale blue padded headboard and cool white sheets and comforter, one hand flat atop a snoring Bruno’s head while she contemplated the many hours just past.

  Her thoughts began with her appointment at the Thomas Yates Investment office and that tense, angst-ridden scene between the two Quinleys that she had had to endure watching. Endure, in fact, being helplessly drawn into. How could Jeff tolerate such childish, selfish, outrageous behavior from his partner in life? Even with what Olivia, herself, had planned as her eventual goal, even with all the bitter emotions still at play, she could not help feeling a spark of sympathy for his situation.

  She wondered if this were a recent development, or whether their whole five years of marriage had been forged on this battleground. Not surprising the poor guy was looking for relief.

  However he might have stood firm on his vows of fidelity, Olivia had had plenty of reason to distrust such easy, dubious claims, based on Jeff’s casual philandering during college years. Interesting, though; with her parents’ forty plus years together as her only example, it seemed possible the man might actually be telling the truth. Had he already learned a painful lesson? That was part of what she’d come here to find out.

  “Oh, Bruno,” she murmured to the dog, who groaned and shifted position after a lazy swish of the tail. “Why must things be so darned complicated?”

  Since no answer was forthcoming, her reflections moved on to the details of their shopping excursion. At the nearest large department store, transported in style by Jeff’s glorious cobalt blue Jaguar, they had separated to purchase casual clothing and then rejoined at the busy first-floor Starbuck’s.

  Jeff’s face showed his surprise—and pleasure—at her choice: a cap sleeve ruffled shirt of some clingy fabric the color of a Miami sunset, black drawstring jogger pants, and low-heeled sandals whose multi-hued straps of intricate beadwork bared toes tipped in flirtatious coral.

  Keep him off balance. Remember, to successfully finish what you’ve started, always keep him off balance. And close your heart to compassion. You have a score to settle and revenge to reap.

  Her eyes crinkled with unaccustomed mischief at his reaction. “Problem?”

  “Problem? Huh. I should say not. Just—wow, Livvie. You look—amazing.”

  Had he expected her to abandon her elegant attire for a pair of overalls and combat boots? Or, possibly, sackcloth and ashes? If she had learned nothing else from the fashion world during these difficult, demanding years, she had learned how to dress.

  “Why, thank you, sir,” she said in a teasing, mock Southern drawl. “You’re lookin’ mighty splendiferous yourself.”

  Just a split neck woven hemp shirt in dusty blue, cut low enough to show off some enticing chest hair—the type of top, given his more exalted position in life, she could never imagine him putting on. Paired with gray stretch chinos and black Puma sneakers, he looked classy, cool, and comfortable.

  “But no hat.”

  “Alas, none of my own creation there. I’ll have to add Empyrion’s name to my list of stores-to-contact.”

  Surrounded by too many other patrons to indulge in a personal conversation, they shared a table, a cappuccino and a buttery croissant each, and small talk. Getting more re-acquainted from past to present, and enjoying every minute of it.

  Afterward, he had stowed their garment bags and her hat box into the trunk of his car, and they had escaped most of the city’s humdrum traffic noises and air pollution for a wide and wonderful neighborhood park which, he claimed, he had never explored. Now seemed the perfect time to do so.

  “He was really interested in my companionship, Bruno,” Olivia, hugging one of her fluffy pillows, said into the bedroom’s darkness. “What a day. For one that started out so badly, at Jeff’s office, it got a lot better the longer we were together.”

  They had strolled happily along a broad, curving walk that branched off, here and there, to other attractions. At the central fountain, a huge splashy affair whose flagstone and brick encircled a bronze triple-tiered sculpture, he took her hand loosely in his. Farther on, at an
intersection with the bike path, his clasp tightened. When they reached the rose garden, tumbling over with fragrant red and yellow and pink and white blooms, and simply stood for a few minutes to admire the view, he slipped one arm around her shoulders.

  From there it was a short distance to the hot dog stand.

  “This brings back memories,” Jeff commented, after they had placed and picked up their orders. He pulled cash from his pocket to pay, over her protests. “Oh, hush,” he told her good-naturedly, as they wandered over to use a convenient bench as their dining table. “Just consider this our big night out on the town.”

  Shrugging, she unwrapped her haute cuisine meal, drizzled with ketchup and mustard and layered in dill pickles. “Works for me.”

  “There was this rinky-dink little hole-in-the-wall place off campus,” he went on, having chomped a large and hearty bite off the bun. “It looked terrible—probably got shut down every other week for health violations—but, man! The best food ever. Remember how we went there a few times, in between studying?”

  She was not bewitched enough by his spell to keep from answering honestly. “No.”

  “Oh.” He chewed silently for a minute, considering. “Musta been some other chick, I guess.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Finished with one super-size dog, he balled up the paper, took a noisy slurp from his Coke, and began on the second. More silence while he stared into the distance, at the lagoon not far away where white swans were paddling in Old World elegance, and two small boys were maneuvering wooden sailboats under the watchful eye of an older woman—a nanny, perhaps, or a grandmother.

  Then, out of the blue, he said, “I never meant to hurt you, you know.”

  Her hand stilled in the act of reaching for a French fry.

  “Never intentional. No. It’s just that I was a spoiled rotten jerk. I knew I could do what I wanted, and I knew I could have any girl I wanted. So I treated you like a—like a—”