An Ever Fixéd Mark

by Jessie Olson

  “I don’t know,” Lizzie slowly took the spoon out of the red sauce. “He… I always think of him in terms of Sara. I never had a thing for him myself. I never thought of him that way… really… until right before we went upstairs.”

  “So it was a good weekend?”

  “An excellent weekend.”

  “Lizzie?” Meg took the strainer from the cupboard. “Don’t tell Nora about Alec, okay?”

  Lizzie took the strainer from her hands. “Okay.”

  Chapter Three

  Lizzie dusted along the dresser, careful not to upset the few china objects displayed on the lace coverlet. She paused and looked up at the portrait of Harriet Fulton. She wondered if Harriet was ever distracted by a young man. Lizzie couldn’t imagine Harriet thought about the things that kept filling her mind. Maybe she did. Over Lazarus Benedict before he became her husband. Or maybe the boy who delivered coal.

  Lizzie went over to the window and ran the cloth along the window sill. She looked down at the cold gray parking lot. The outside of the Fulton House seemed a strange contradiction to the scarce 19th century furnishings within. It often seemed that the house was in its own place, its own skewed time. It wasn’t quite a step into the past, with fluorescent lights buzzing on some of the ceilings or the motion sensors hanging above the doors. Nor was it completely in the present. Just somewhere in between.

  A few guides liked to suggest there were ghosts roaming about the rooms. Lizzie was seldom able to blame the chills she got in the bedrooms on other worldly occurrences. It was just that cold. Then again she often walked into a room and felt her mood change suddenly - as though walking into a memory that was stuck in the air like all the dust dancing in the sunbeams.

  Harriet’s room, more than any other, made her feel sad. She wondered if it was Harriet’s sadness… or another. Or her own. Lizzie accepted the fact she had an active imagination and that the few details of intrigue about the Fultons were not enough to make the talk of furniture and wallpaper interesting … to her at least.

  “Lizzie, are you finished in here?” Paula’s voice called her back to the focus of the task at hand.

  “I just… a few more minutes,” Lizzie smiled at her manager.

  “Andrew just started a tour,” Paula diverted her eyes from a direct glance at Lizzie.

  “Oh. Okay,” Lizzie persisted her smile. She never knew what to do with Paula. It was difficult to understand whether or not Paula liked Lizzie and her disdain for staying on script with the tours. Lizzie didn’t really care about the furniture as much as everyone else. She was fascinated by the Fultons, who actually slept and sat upon the beds and chairs. They were more interesting than the wood and upholstery. That’s not really what they were supposed to discuss. Paula had a sense of humor… but Lizzie often thought she was silently cursing her lack of respect. But Paula was too sweet to say anything.

  “So if you could do the three o’clock, that would be good,” Paula let herself turn her glance back to Lizzie’s smile.

  “Absolutely,” Lizzie moved over to the bed posts and gently wiped along them with the dust cloth. “Paula, do we have any more information about Harriet?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We know when she was born, when she got married, when she died. We know whom she married, that she had four babies and lost three of them. What else do we know?”

  “You have her portrait,” Paula walked to the dresser.

  “Do you think she looks happy? Or … like she’s thinking of something?” Lizzie stopped herself from leaning against the bed post.

  “I think that glassy stare is the paint,” Paula laughed. “No, there isn’t much information about Harriet. She wasn’t as involved in the community as her parents. There aren’t many records of her activities. We don’t really know much about her.”

  “Nothing in the archives?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Paula shook her head. “Why?”

  “I was just curious. I guess I was looking too long at her portrait,” Lizzie sighed and went towards the headboard.

  “Well I don’t think you could fit much more info on the tour anyway,” Paula shrugged. “Considering you have to talk about the bed and the chair in this room.”

  “I don’t have to talk about the chair.”

  “Yes, you do, Lizzie. It’s a valuable piece.”

  “Tell that to the mice,” Lizzie laughed, but saw that Paula wasn’t amused. “Hey – are you going to Andrew’s Christmas party next week?”

  “I…” Paula glanced over her glasses. “I’m not really into parties.”

  “Andrew and Davis throw a nice celebration. You should come.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Paula looked back at the portrait.

  “I’ll need a buffer from all of Davis’ friends,” Lizzie entreated, though not able to articulate the name of the one she hoped wouldn’t be there with his wife.

  “We should probably head downstairs, before the tour comes through the bedrooms,” Paula suggested and met Lizzie’s eye with a knowing glance. Paula had been a good sport listening to her crooning about Will and had the graciousness to drop the subject when Lizzie no longer believed the fairy tale.

  “Yeah,” Lizzie made one last swipe down the bedpost and glanced back at the portrait. She got a brief chill across her shoulders and realized she was standing in the draft from the window. Perhaps it was just the shine of the paint.

  *****

  Lizzie turned the lock on the gift shop door and went back to the reception desk. Andrew counted the last of his pennies and added it to the tally of the day’s take. Lizzie waited in silence for him to figure his math. “Not bad for such a slow day,” Andrew shrugged looking up at her.

  “We had some Christmas shoppers when you were on your tour,” Lizzie explained.

  “Ah,” Andrew nodded and shut the register. “Well, let’s close this joint.”

  “Paula is still in her office,” Lizzie reached for her coat on the hook behind the desk.

  “She should be down soon,” Andrew wrapped his scarf around his neck. “Do you have a hot date tonight, Lizzie?”

  “Hardly,” she laughed. “You?”

  “Davis and I are going to the movies. That French film that’s got all the buzz,” Andrew buttoned up his coat. “Are you seriously doing nothing, Lizzie? I can’t believe that with all the new attention you seem to be getting.”

  Lizzie bit on her lip, letting her cheeks flush. “I’m just hanging out with Meg and Nora tonight,” she said cautiously.

  “What about that doctor?”

  Lizzie lifted her shoulders and looked helpless towards an offer of information. “We aren’t dating.”

  “We’ll have to find you someone at the party next week.”

  “Oh God, please don’t,” Lizzie rolled her eyes.

  “You spent all that time and effort to make yourself look this good and yet you still hide yourself away like a nun,” Andrew shook his head.

  “Not exactly,” Lizzie’s cheeks burned, thinking of the previous weekend and Ben Cottingham. That certainly wasn’t nun-like behavior.

  “So there is someone?”

  “There isn’t some ONE,” Lizzie emphasized. “I’m enjoying a few non-committal partnerships.”

  “Aha, that’s more like it,” Andrew chuckled as Paula came into the gift shop.

  “Everything all set down here?”

  “I closed out the register,” Andrew nodded. “Lizzie closed the house.”

  “All right,” Paula went behind the desk to look over the paperwork and put a sheet of paper on the desk. “Lizzie, I went through the files. That’s a copy of a letter written by Harriet.”

  “What?” Lizzie edged back towards the desk.

  “The only thing we have from her. It’s not much… but maybe it could give you a little more insight to her glassy stare,” Paula smiled at her.

  Lizzie picked up the letter and read it, with Andrew glancing over her shoulder.

&n
bsp; “My dearest Lotty,

  I am sorry that you had to leave and return to New York so suddenly. It was a dear pleasure to have you with us in Cambridge this season. Mother regrets your absence at the dinner table. Your conversation was a lively distraction from Father and Peter’s debates.

  Please send my regards to Mr. Chester. I hope that he shall return to Boston when his leisure suits him.

  Fondly,

  Harriet”

  “Who is Mr. Chester?” Andrew asked.

  “I don’t know. Never heard of anyone by that name before,” Paula looked at Lizzie.

  “An unrequited love?” Lizzie offered.

  “No,” Paula cautioned. “There isn’t anything that you can add to the tour from that, you know.”

  “Who is Lotty?” Andrew asked the other obvious question.

  “I don’t know that either,” Paula reached for her coat. “I think it’s time to head home. What do you think?”

  “Lizzie has a hot date with her gal pals,” Andrew sniveled. “We don’t want to keep her.”

  “No,” Lizzie turned to Andrew. “We don’t want to keep Davis waiting. He will hate us all if we make you late for your French film.”

  *****

  Nora and Meg were already drinking martinis in the living room when Lizzie climbed the stairs. She hung up her coat and noticed the swatches Nora spread out on the coffee table. “So these are the colors,” Nora explained after they exchanged a quick hello and Meg left to get Lizzie a drink. “What do you think?”

  “We each have a different one?” Lizzie picked up one of the red squares.

  “Same design, but you all will have a different shade,” Nora explained with a look for approval in her amber eyes.

  “What is Becca wearing?” Lizzie fingered another square.

  “She likes this one,” Nora picked up a swatch that was redder than the burgundy color Lizzie had across her palm. “We were thinking a gold waistband or something.”

  “Fitting for the maid of honor,” Lizzie showed her approval with a smile. “I like this one.”

  “Just like wine,” Meg handed her a glass. “I figured you’d go for that one.”

  “Which design did you pick?” Lizzie sipped from her martini.

  “Knee length and strapless. It should be comfortable for June. And Lizzie, you will look fabulous,” Nora smiled.

  “Well, thank you,” Lizzie took the compliment, even as she was still bemused by Andrew’s references earlier. “I think the same will be true for Meg and your sister.”

  “I’m not getting up to go running at six in the morning,” Meg rolled her eyes.

  “You started running again?”

  “Just since Monday,” Lizzie answered. “Doing penance for Thanksgiving.”

  “Good girl,” Nora approved. “You’ll look better than me in June.”

  “I doubt it,” Lizzie scowled. “No one in the wedding party will outshine the bride.”

  “Speaking of the wedding party,” Nora heaved a sigh. “One of Mark’s groomsmen had to drop out.”

  “Oh no,” Meg took another sip.

  “Yeah, Patrick is moving to Japan,” Nora looked down. “So, he’s asked Aaron to take over.”

  Lizzie darted her eyes to Meg. Years before, when Nora still lived with them, Meg had one of her passionate albeit short-lived affairs with Mark’s cousin, Aaron. It didn’t end well and added to the tension between Meg and Mark. “Well,” Meg breathed out carefully.

  “We’ll pair him with Lizzie, of course,” Nora looked hopefully at Lizzie.

  “That’s okay,” Meg shrugged off her concern. Lizzie realized that she wasn’t drinking her first martini of the evening. Nora probably noticed that, too. “Besides, I’m bringing Alec.”

  Nora looked directly at Lizzie, who smiled awkwardly. “He has been helping Meg with her thesis.”

  “I’ll bet he has,” Nora set her jaw. “He sucks the life out of you, Meghan.”

  Nora picked up the swatches and, in spite of her irritation, still arranged them neatly in her box. Lizzie took a sip from her martini, uncertain if there was a deliberate play on words in Nora’s comment. Meg was writing another master’s thesis on vampires in literature, something Nora could never comprehend. But she had managed to sum up Alec’s effect on Meg quite appropriately with that sentence. Lizzie knew Meg was delaying her reaction because she couldn’t argue against the truth.

  “Lizzie rekindled an old flame last weekend,” Meg made Lizzie’s cheek match the color of her favorite swatch.

  “What?” Nora shifted to Lizzie. “You aren’t obsessing about Will again, are you?”

  “NO!” Lizzie choked on her next sip. “I just… I went to my reunion.”

  “That’s right,” Nora sighed out. “What happened?”

  Lizzie glanced impatiently at Meg but accepted responsibility to divert the conversation. “I just… it was nothing, really.”

  “She said it was great sex,” Meg drank from her glass to stop Lizzie’s protest.

  “Who was it?” Nora asked.

  “Ben Cottingham,” Lizzie forced a smile. “He had a crush on my friend Sara for years.”

  “So you slept with him to prove something?”

  “I slept with him because I had a lot of wine.”

  “Are you friends?”

  “On Facebook,” Lizzie laughed. “Nora, it was a one time thing. Don’t start imagining him as my escort to your wedding.”

  Nora closed the lid on her box of swatches. “Don’t you think it’s time, Lizzie?”

  “Time for what?”

  “To find someone… who isn’t just a one time thing.”

  Lizzie looked at Meg for help, irritated that she opened up that can of worms to avoid her own reprimand from Nora. “I never wanted that, Nora,” Lizzie sighed out.

  “You did with Will.”

  “Not really,” Lizzie set her glass down and walked over to the mantelpiece to get away from the direct line of Nora’s eyes.

  “But you used to say…”

  “I said a lot of crap about Will. I never really believed it, not deep down. I mean… I always knew I was never what he wanted,” Lizzie looked at her fingers, feeling uncomfortable with a conversation about a guy she hadn’t seen in over a year.

  “Is that why you’re not calling this guy?” Meg asked suddenly.

  “What?” Lizzie turned quickly.

  “Are you afraid of a Will encore?” Meg continued softly.

  “I just said I never really wanted… I don’t want a relationship right now, okay?” Lizzie breathed out hastily.

  “Oh, Lizzie. They aren’t all like Will,” Nora sighed.

  “I don’t know that the ones like Ben are any better. He didn’t say goodbye,” Lizzie snarled.

  Meg and Nora looked away from her. Lizzie told herself that part of the morning after hadn’t bothered her. It hadn’t… until she spoke it to her friends and realized there was a part of her that did feel slighted. Because it was Ben Cottingham. Because she saw the look in his eye for Sara with which she used to follow Will. Because she bothered to feel sorry for him… and he didn’t even say goodbye.

  “Are we getting pizza?” Lizzie broke the silence. “Or Chinese food?”

  “Chinese food, are you kidding?” Meg said. “Alec hates that stuff.”

  Nora rolled her eyes at Lizzie, providing the comfort that Meg was not off the hook.

  Lizzie could not sleep. It was already 3:30 by the time Nora left. The sleepy buzz of martinis wore off while she awaited Nora’s sobriety. Within a half hour she changed and readied herself for the sleep that would not come. Too many thoughts trickled into her brain. She wished Meg hadn’t brought Ben up in front of Nora, prompting a discussion of details she resisted acknowledging even to herself. Nora politely avoided the subject, even as the evening hours started to wane into morning. She was easily distracted by wedding details and did not return to the subject of Lizzie’s flings.

  Ben wasn’t the only t
ransient lover she had. She had a surge of confidence in her sexuality as she approached the last two months before the marathon. That was aided significantly by Eric, a surgical intern, whom she met in the cafeteria after a lunchtime run. He asked to join her next run, which led to a drink, and then to his apartment. She gave him her phone number, which he didn’t hesitate to use in the following weeks.

  Lizzie liked Eric. Maybe because that’s really all it was with him. Sometimes running… but usually just a drink and then his apartment. No awkward mornings. No hope for anything else. He was attractive. He was young – younger than her, but definitely more accomplished. He was on the career path, no doubt hoping to be a chief surgeon someday. But she couldn’t imagine herself having a conversation with him every day, much less every day for twenty years. She didn’t expect anything from him and didn’t always answer his calls.

  She couldn’t understand why Ben Cottingham hit a nerve. And why… a week later… she let herself admit it. She didn’t like him in high school. She liked Adam Jackson… and that was like Will… a silly crush she never believed could be a reality in spite of her public wishes it would be. She didn’t like Ben. She didn’t bother to think of him. Not that it would have made any difference if he was following Sara around all the time. And wasn’t he still just following Sara by choosing her?

  Lizzie shut her eyes in annoyance. High school was long ago – almost four times the number of years she actually spent in it. And that many years since she sat across from Ben Cottingham in the library… when she was a very different person herself. How could she not let the idea that he changed enter her mind?

  He may no longer like Sara… but he didn’t like her enough to stay until the morning.

  Lizzie tossed onto her side, annoyed that the thoughts were keeping her awake. She didn’t want to do this to herself again. She was too old for ill-fated affections. She managed to survive the majority of her 33 years without a serious relationship. She once blamed her appearance for that singularity. But she knew it was a choice to remove herself from the dating game. She still had no real desire to enter it. She certainly had no desire to let her heart fall for someone who didn’t want her for more than flirting.