by Jessie Olson
Lizzie forced those thoughts from her head, even as her exhaustion lacked the strength to fight their doggedness. She tried to think of something else entirely and went back to her day at the Fulton House. She liked working there. Even though she only managed to guide three people through the house at the end of the day. It was still an opportunity to bring strangers through a place she loved. She couldn’t explain her affection for the two hundred year old home. She really didn’t care about the wallpaper and furniture. She was fascinated by Margaret and John Fulton and their political activism. Although… didn’t that letter from Harriet imply that Margaret thought politics less interesting? Or maybe that was Harriet trying to be clever. Lizzie shut her eyes and laughed thinking of Paula’s disapproval for her speculation. It was difficult to not speculate about Harriet. There was so little to know of her… just to imagine what she was thinking when she sat for that portrait or stared out her window…
Lizzie felt very very tired. She knew she was obligated to finish her tour. She wanted to lie down, but knew Paula would be upset if she decided to take a nap on one of the beds. Not that Lizzie would want to sleep on one of those beds. The mice liked to scurry across the linens. Lizzie saw a mouse as she continued talking about Mr. and Mrs. Fulton in the dining room. Mrs. Fulton liked to give dinner parties. She was very fond of her friends and grateful to those who supported the belief that the United States should not be at war with England.
Mrs. Fulton’s favorite dish was roasted pork with potatoes and carrots. Lizzie looked at the dining room table and was startled to find all the dishes were dirty and in need of clearing. She didn’t want Paula to come in and tell her she hadn’t cleaned the room properly. Lizzie collected the plates and brought them into the kitchen. She noticed the fire was dying and went to add another log. She pushed it into the coals and watched the flame lick around it. She sensed someone in the room and wondered if it might be Harriet’s Mr. Chester. She turned quickly and saw Ben. He smiled at her and crossed the room. She put down the iron and let him pull her into his arms for a long passionate kiss.
Chapter Four
Lizzie scraped the remaining guacamole into the container, catching a splatter she licked off her finger. She attached the lid and collected the other containers to put in the refrigerator as Andrew entered the kitchen with two martini glasses and a shaker.
“Why are you hiding in my kitchen?” he scowled, setting the glasses down to fill them.
“I like the kitchen.”
“There’s a party in the living room,” he gave her a glass.
She looked at the pile of dirty dishes by the sink and sighed. “Yes, go enjoy it. I’ll clean up so you can be with your friends.”
“They are your friends, too, Lizzie,” he held the glass until she took it.
“I have a thing about dirty dishes. You know I do. I even dream about them.”
“Oh really?” he laughed over his green drink.
“I dreamt I was washing them at the Fulton House,” she smirked and took a sip. “Mmm, a triumph.”
“The pear vodka.”
“Goes nicely with the cheese,” she saw the abandoned goat cheese spread and decided one more cracker wasn’t going to hurt her.
“I liked that mushroom thing you brought.”
“We can add it to our list,” Lizzie set down her glass to bring the empty guacamole dish to the sink and run water over it.
“Christmas parties are a good niche for catering,” Andrew savored his next swallow. “You must know some doctors’ wives that could hire us.”
“Andrew, we aren’t… if we ever have a business…” Lizzie sighed hopelessly and went back to her drink. She didn’t know any doctors with wives. The only doctor she really knew was Dr. Chiang. She wasn’t likely to hire her to cook for a Christmas cocktail party. Not that it was a real possibility. They only really talked about it after parties. The idea went out with the trash the following morning.
“So what did you think of Paula’s date?” Andrew proved her thought true with the rapid switch of subject.
“She was nice,” Lizzie fingered the stem of her glass. “Quiet.”
“She’ll be good for Paula.”
“I think this was their second date, Andrew,” Lizzie rolled her eyes and took another piece of cheese.
“You know Bob,” Andrew tilted his head towards the living room where Davis and the remainder of the guests were sitting. “He’s available.”
“I’m not looking.”
“He’s available tonight.”
“I have someone I can call for that,” Lizzie went to the drawer she knew held the foil and saran wrap.
“Why don’t you want to get serious with the surgeon?” Andrew annoyed her. She glared at him as she lifted the foil out to cover up the cheese platter. He was too drunk to justify anger.
“He’s boring,” Lizzie shrugged.
“Most of the straight ones are, lovely.”
“Not all of them,” Lizzie bit her lip hoping his swallow of martini would blur his hearing.
“Oh?”
Lizzie shut her eyes quickly to regain composure. She focused on the platter and quickly covered it. “Just, um, he’s not the only one right now,” Lizzie hastened to put the platter in the fridge. She was relieved when Davis entered the room.
“Are you having a little party in here?” he took the martini shaker to fill his glass. “Or are you making Lizzie play housekeeper again?”
“I can’t get her away from the dishes,” Andrew laughed.
“Lizzie, come on, we can do the dishes in the morning,” Davis took her hand.
“It is morning.”
“Exactly. You don’t have to worry. He isn’t going to show up this late,” Davis looked at her directly.
“That’s not…” she gave up and took her glass. Going back and talking to Davis’ friends … and Will’s … was a lot easier than having to explain to Andrew that she was thinking about another man who didn’t care much for her. She took a quick swallow of Andrew’s vodka drenched martini. “Let’s go have some holiday cheer.”
*****
“Did you have a good Christmas?” the nurse, Polly, asked as she hooked the bag on the stand.
Lizzie shifted her head slightly to avoid seeing her blood leave her arm. “It was crazy, but pretty good. Yours?”
“A lot of food,” Polly smiled. “Are you still running, Lizzie?”
“Yeah. I’ve been pretty disciplined since Thanksgiving,” she leaned her head back.
“Good for you. Good for your blood. I’ll be back in five minutes,” Polly glanced at the bag and moved to the next donor.
She shut her eyes for a few minutes, once again contemplating the option the hospital gave for the afternoon off after donating blood. The days got busier as the gala approached. She completed all her required tasks for the day, but there were still plenty of details that could be completed before five. She opened her eyes and met the glance of Dr. Chiang standing in a discussion with Polly. Lizzie remembered she had to tell the cardiac chief that Gerard Fulton was coming to the gala, but didn’t have the energy to speak with her blood draining from her arm. The doctor offered a friendly smile and turned back to Polly before leaving the room.
Polly came back to check on the blood bag. “Dr. Chiang is very pretty,” Lizzie avoided looking at the needle Polly took from her arm.
“She is lovely,” Polly agreed. “She has many admirers.”
Lizzie was surprised the blood could still rise to her cheeks. “She’s Chinese?”
“Mm hmm,” Polly put the gauze inside her elbow and propped it up over her shoulder. “Do you want some cookies?”
“I think I’ll rest a bit and then get lunch in the café.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for coming, Lizzie. We always appreciate it,” Polly smiled again, validating her decision to come to the blood bank. She felt badly she skipped December, but was determined to make it back in March, when the required eight week wait was
over.
*****
Lizzie lifted a tray and glanced over the shoulders of the staff in front of her to see what options were available. She saw her favorite salad was already gone. She wasn’t interested in the overcooked pasta or soupy chili. She bit her lip, wondering if Polly’s cookies might have been a better option after all.
“Hey,” a warm breath whispered in her ear.
“Hi,” she broadened a grin before turning to Eric’s dark eyes. Maybe she would take the option to not return to the office. She set her tray down and picked up a packaged turkey sandwich. “Are you just starting your shift or nearing the end of it?”
“In the middle,” Eric grabbed a sandwich without a tray. “But I’ve got time for lunch.”
“Do you have a surgery today?”
“With Kate Chiang,” Eric beamed.
“That’s great,” Lizzie wondered if that had anything to do with her presence in the blood bank.
“What have you got going on this weekend?” Eric stepped ahead of Lizzie and paid for her sandwich. It was sweet… but… different from his usual attention.
“I have to go to a funeral tomorrow,” Lizzie found a table with four empty chairs.
“Oh geez, I’m so sorry,” he sat across from her.
“A friend of mine from high school lost her father this week,” Lizzie pulled apart the plastic carton of her sandwich. “I didn’t know him very well. But she was a good friend… and I spent a lot of time at their house when I was younger.”
“How did he die?”
“Heart attack,” Lizzie let herself reveal the empathetic sorrow she felt at the news of Sara’s dad. No matter how many years since they were best friends or the differences that came between them in those years, Lizzie still felt the grief of losing Joseph Miller.
“Does that mean you have to drive all the way out there?”
“Out there?” she laughed and found the levity of conversation again. “It’s just over an hour. Not much more than driving to New Hampshire.”
“I don’t go to New Hampshire either,” he shook his head, with a knowing grin. She suspected his questions had more to do with her availability in the Cambridge area than Coldbrook or New Hampshire. She could easily be back by the evening… except she hoped someone else might be at the funeral. He did like Sara for all those years. If he was a decent guy, Ben would demonstrate his sympathy for his former crush. Lizzie knew it was awful that she was excited to go to a funeral because she wanted to see him. And yet… it was a chance to see him and prove if he had a shred of decency.
She took a bite of her sandwich and met his knowing grin. He was so attractive. She appreciated his runner’s frame even more when he was wearing scrubs. She liked the fact he was letting his black hair grow out from its weekly cropping. His dark skin was so smooth and so lovely… why did she want to hesitate an invitation with Eric just on the off chance she would see… and it wasn’t even appropriate to think something would come from an encounter at a funeral.
“Well, it is supposed to be cold this weekend. But if you are up for a run…”
“Hello, Eric,” Dr. Chiang came behind Lizzie. “Have you had a chance to review for this afternoon?”
“Yes, Dr. Chiang,” Eric shifted his eyes and softened his confidence in deference to his superior. Lizzie saw his awe with her beauty and felt slightly jealous.
“Hello Lizzie,” the doctor greeted, prompting Lizzie to turn around. “Richard tells me that Gerard Fulton is attending.”
“Yes,” Lizzie nodded quietly.
“Well, whatever charm you possess to lure him here, we shall have to use to get him to fund my new center,” Dr. Chiang grinned.
“I’ll do what I can,” she looked back at her sandwich, aware of Eric’s observation.
“Eric, stop by my office after lunch,” Dr. Chiang touched Lizzie’s shoulder briefly. “Lizzie.”
“Who’s Gerard Fulton?” Eric asked after Lizzie ate some of her sandwich.
“He’s a man with a lot of money,” Lizzie pulled the bread off the second half and debated if she wanted that much turkey.
“You know him?”
“Hardly,” Lizzie shook her head. “I just work at a museum about his family.”
“Why is there a museum about his family?”
“Because they have a lot of money. And they’ve had a lot of money for centuries,” Lizzie didn’t bother to explain the politics or the artistic accomplishments of the Fultons. She doubted that Eric really cared about such things.
“Do you think he’ll give us money?”
“Who knows?”
“Then maybe Chiang will hire me permanently,” Eric grinned and looked at his watch. “So, Lizzie, if you want to go out for a run on Sunday, you know how to find me.”
“I do,” she bit her lip and watched him head towards Dr. Chiang’s office. She hoped there would be a reason she wouldn’t have to make that call.
Chapter Five
Lizzie sat in a pew with her cousin. It was a long time since she sat inside St. Mary’s. Probably not since another funeral… or wedding. She was once a devout Catholic… but not since she left Coldbrook and went to college. She scanned the crowd for Ben before the mass started, but was able to push him out of her mind when she resolved he wouldn’t be there. That the important part of the morning was to support Sara and her family.
“Hey, so how was Christmas?” Jack whispered as the crowd moved slowly towards the back of the church to share condolences with Sara’s family.
“It was…” Lizzie looked up and saw Ben further down the line. “It was fun. It would have been more fun if you and Jen were there. How was Jen’s family?”
“Less rowdy.”
“I bet you missed us,” Lizzie tried not to make her observation of Ben obvious.
“Of course I did. I missed the food. What did you make this year?”
“Something healthy. I missed the guitar playing at the end of the night,” Lizzie laughed. “Hey – when is the next gig, Jack?”
“We have some shows coming up in the spring. I hope you’ll come to one or two.”
“I’ve been known to do such things on occasion,” Lizzie felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned from Jack and met Ben’s gray green eyes. He paused for a second and looked away.
“Hey – is that Ben Cottingham?”
Lizzie hoped the blush wasn’t too obvious in her cheeks. Fortunately, it was cold and the indoor heat had already made her a little ruddy. “It was.”
“Do you think he still has a thing for Sara?”
“Who knows?”
“Was he at the reunion?”
“Yes.”
“I’m surprised. I mean… I always thought he would be the sort to leave this town and never look back.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. He was smart. I bet he made a small fortune.”
“He went to MIT. And he has his own computer company.”
“Really?” Jack looked curiously.
“At least that’s what he says on Facebook.”
“Oh yeah…” Jack nodded.
“Sara,” Lizzie said abruptly, realizing the line had already reached the greeting family. “I am so sorry.”
“It was such a surprise,” Sara clung to her embrace. “He was so alive at Christmas.”
Lizzie stepped back and offered a friendly smile. “I will always have happy memories of him,” she kissed Sara’s cheek and looked to Jack.
“Jack,” Sara leaned into his embrace.
“Jen sends her sympathies,” Jack explained his wife’s absence as Lizzie moved through the line of Sara’s siblings and mother. It was always weird trying to say the right thing, when nothing was ever right to say… especially when she was really impatient to go outside and see if Ben was still there.
She opened the door of the church and saw him standing on the bottom step. “Hi Lizzie,” he said in a tone that dashed her hope to the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t
just sobriety that reflected the occasion. It was the sobriety that proved the reason he hadn’t called her back. The reason he didn’t say goodbye the morning after.
“Hi Ben,” she forced a small smile.
“Good to see you,” he didn’t meet her eyes as Jack followed through the door.
“Ben!” Jack nodded his greeting. “So there’s no cemetery because he’s cremated, right?”
“Yeah,” Lizzie nodded, still looking at Ben. She recognized the contours of his muscle, even under his winter coat. He had strong shoulders.
“Are we going back to the house? Lizzie, what about you?”
“Yeah, for a little bit,” Lizzie didn’t move her eyes from Ben to look at Jack.
“I’ve got to head back to Boston. Good to see you,” he repeated and disappeared into the mass of cars. Lizzie heaved a great sigh, glad the sad occasion didn’t make her disappointment look obvious.
*****
“I thought you worked on Saturdays,” Jack finished his plate from the buffet of casseroles and sandwiches.
“I took the day off,” Lizzie glanced over the crowd of heads in the living room, hoping to catch Sara’s eye.
“Don’t you get sick of giving the same tour every week?”
“I only do it twice a month,” Lizzie looked back at Jack. “I like it. I work with one of my best friends… and the house is kind of creepy at this time of year.”
“Ever see any ghosts?”
“I wouldn’t call them ghosts,” Lizzie softened her voice, uncertain if the topic of ghosts was appropriate at a funeral reception. “Just some odd energy… if you believe that sort of thing.”
“Are you sure you aren’t drinking on the job, Lizzie?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Lizzie shook her head at him. “Most of the time anyway.”