Alligators in the Trees

by Cynthia Hamilton

  Philip was still on the phone when she reentered his office. He seemed a bit frazzled but his tone was steady. Priscilla idly gazed at his incredible views while she waited for him to finish up.

  “Yes, I realize that. Like I said, my problem is not with Atillian Ready Mix. Sure, I totally understand. All right, then…we’ll talk tomorrow. Thanks for your help.” Philip hung up the phone and stretched mightily in his chair.

  “Good news?” Priscilla asked cautiously, as she came away from the window. The smile on Philip’s face confirmed her guess.

  “He’s going to have to do some research to confirm it, but he says they were using admixtures in all their projects during that time frame. Coincidentally, it was the same admixture that was used on Jack Cafferty’s project.” He sat stock-still for a moment before jumping out of his chair.

  “I can’t believe this!” he exclaimed, his elation too great to suppress. “Do you know what this means? This means I have a fighting chance now. Cafferty’s going to save his building, and by God, so am I!” He threw his arms around Priscilla so fast, she didn’t see it coming. She stood there, crushed to his chest, reluctantly allowing herself to be infected by his jubilation.

  “This is amazing!” he said, as he released her. Priscilla couldn’t help but laugh along with him as he marveled over his good fortune.

  “I don’t have any doubt that an admixture is at fault for what happened to the caissons. And because this is a freak problem completely out of the realm of my control, I won’t have to hang my head and take the blame for what happened. I will be vindicated and I will get my career back on track,” he vowed once more, with greater conviction.

  “But…it’s going to require a lot of work,” he amended, becoming suddenly serious. “There are so many bases to cover. I better make a list.” As Priscilla was closer to his desk than he was, she reached over and grabbed a pen and a pad of paper.

  “Shoot,” she said, poised for dictation. The sight of Priscilla in her customary pose caused Philip a momentary pause. “Hey, this is one thing I know how to do, remember?” she said with a playful smile, as she perched herself on the corner of his desk.

  “Okay…well, this won’t be in any particular order, but here goes: contact City Hall and get the demolition stopped. That is definitely priority number one. Contact the insurance company and advise them of this development. There’s no reason to be in settlement mode if this problem can be corrected. Get the word out through the papers. They were always eager to hear what I had to say in the good old days. Even though bad news sells better, no one can resist a resurrection story. ‘Will The Phoenix Rise Again?’ They ought to love that. Stay on the people at Boyce—make sure we get those test results ASAP. And find out exactly what help they are offering to avoid a protracted lawsuit. Am I going too fast for you?” he asked Priscilla, who was mouthing the words as she raced to catch up.

  “Got it,” she said, looking up for further instructions.

  “Call Jack Cafferty—I want to watch his progress closely. Contract that Norwegian outfit and get that deal lined up. I still can’t believe they can actually hoist up a building and retrofit the caissons. Amazing.” Philip’s stream of consciousness halted abruptly as he stood transfixed.

  “Whew! My mind’s just swimming,” he said, coming out of his reverie. “What else is there?” he said, thinking out loud.

  “You’ve got your own attorneys working on this, don’t you? You probably should let them know what’s going on,” Priscilla said.

  “Right. Got to put a stop to that clock until we see how all this is going to play out. It’ll be interesting to see how far Boyce Industries is willing to go to make things right. I’ve incurred legal fees up the wazoo over this problem—their problem. I need to start thinking of it as their problem, not mine.

  “I’m going to have to put a lot of time and effort into reestablishing my former contacts and repairing my reputation. That’s why it’s so important to get the press involved immediately. I’m going to play that card for all it’s worth. In fact, I’m going to call my old contacts at the Times and Post right now.”

  “Are you sure you’re not jumping the gun here?” Priscilla asked. “I know it’s hard to hold back, but maybe it’s better to wait until you get concrete proof—excuse the pun—before you get the media involved,” she reasoned. Philip thought about this and replaced the receiver.

  “You’re right. I’ve got enough to sort out prior to that, anyway. I guess maybe I should call the staffing agency and get a permanent staff together. I’m going to have to rebuild this firm from the ground up.”

  Priscilla could tell by the expression on Philip’s face his thoughts were coming faster than he could get a net over them. His eyes were wandering and his jaw twitched as he tried to come to grips with all the ramifications of what he had learned that day.

  “Congratulations, Phil,” she said, bringing him back to reality. “Looks like you’re going to make good on your promise.” Philip gazed at her solemnly, overwhelmed by her words.

  “It’s all because of you,” he said at length.

  “No, it isn’t, Phil. Whatever small part I played by bringing the article to your attention is only incidental. You would’ve discovered all this on your own eventually.”

  “Eventually would’ve been way too late to save The Phoenix. Sure, I might’ve been able to salvage my reputation to some degree if I’d discovered this admixture problem after The Phoenix came down. But to be honest with you, I don’t know if I would’ve still had the stomach for my profession. You not only spared me that horror, you’ve given me heart. I know I’ve been given the rare opportunity to right a wrong and vindicate myself. I can’t tell you how important this is to me.”

  Priscilla felt a lump building in her throat. She wanted to say something glib, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

  “In any event, we need to celebrate,” Philip said, changing the subject for Priscilla’s sake. “You name it, we’ll do it,” he said. “What will it be? I’ve got Caitlin tonight, so it should probably be something kid friendly, but—”

  “How ’bout putting me on a train?” Priscilla suggested. There was no hint of jest in her tone.

  “You’re not serious, are you?” Philip gasped, stunned.

  “Serious as a heart attack, Phil.”

  “But…but…”

  “The other night at dinner, you convinced me to postpone my departure because you couldn’t make good on your pledge to get your career back on track if you were worrying about me—”

  “That’s exactly right—”

  “Well, you’ve found the cause of The Phoenix’s collapse and you’re on your way to reclaiming your career. You don’t need me anymore,” Priscilla concluded, easing off the desk. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Now I want to go.”

  Philip’s face looked as though it were going to crumble and dissolve right before her eyes. “Phil, cheer up! You’ve got your life back,” she said, walking over to the table where she had laid her bag.

  “Yes, maybe…that still remains to be seen,” he hedged. “But you’re wrong in saying I don’t need you any longer. I need you even more now.”

  Priscilla threw him a skeptical glance. “No you don’t, Phil. You’ve got a perfect roadmap right here to guide you through the process of saving your building and getting back on your feet,” she maintained, waving his list of tasks as proof. “If I’m lucky, maybe some of your good fortune will rub off on me when I’m down in Florida, starting a new life,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

  Philip couldn’t believe she was ready to walk out on him and leave forever, just like that—no preamble, no warning. “Priscilla, wait—don’t do anything rash here,” he pleaded urgently. “A lot has happened today, and I think we both need to sit down and reevaluate the situation.”

  “You mean a lot has happened to you. My situation is exactly the same as when I got up this morning. I’m two days behind sch
edule on my move south,” she said, crossing her arms in an unyielding manner.

  “Ah, but see, this could be a sign,” Philip said eagerly. “Your plan didn’t come off the way you thought it would, and why? Because the real course you’re meant to take is an altogether different one,” he concluded excitedly. Priscilla sighed, annoyed by Philip’s endless, self-serving optimism.

  “Oh really? And what, pray tell, is this alternate course I’m suppose to take? Could it possibly involve staying here and making encouraging noises while you reclaim your former glory?” she asked, her tone callous with sarcasm.

  “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of you remaining in the greatest city in the world and starting a fulfilling and exciting new life for yourself by becoming my assistant. I can offer a handsome salary and great benefits,” he said, laying on the hard sell.

  “Phil…I’ll give you an A for tenacity,” she said, sinking down onto the arm of a chair and shaking her head wearily. “But in this case, it’s not going to do you any good.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his voice rising in his distress. “Tell me one thing wrong with that idea.”

  “It’s your idea, not mine—that’s what’s wrong with it. I have an idea of my own, one I happen to like a lot, one I’m very much looking forward to putting into action,” Priscilla said, standing up to underscore her intent.

  “But what does Florida have to offer that you can’t find right here?”

  “Don’t even start, Phil,” she warned, turning to leave.

  “All right, all right. I’m sorry,” Philip said, scrambling to head her off before she reached the door. “Okay, no more Florida bashing. And you’re right. You’ve got your own plans and I have no business trying to talk you out of them,” he said, bringing her march to a halt.

  “Good,” Priscilla said tentatively, still not convinced Philip was willing to concede so easily. “Then we can say goodbye and remain friends,” she said, testing his sincerity.

  “Absolutely. In fact, I’ll do better than that. I’ll go online right this minute and purchase you the airplane ticket I promised you,” he said, making for his desk.

  “No, Phil—I don’t want to fly. Thanks for the offer, but I’m actually looking forward to the train ride. I know it’ll be a lot longer, but it will give me a chance to prepare for everything that lies in front of me.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy you a train ticket. Penn Station, right?”

  “That’s right. The train I bought a ticket for left at 5:35,” she said, looking over Philip’s shoulder as he brought up the website.

  “Destination?”

  “Miami.”

  “Okay. There it is. Now, I’d like to do two things…”

  “What?” Priscilla asked suspiciously.

  “I’d like to buy you a roundtrip ticket—just hear me out—open ended, which you can use if you find all that sunshine gives you a headache, or turn in for a refund, whichever. But in either case, you win. Okay?”

  “What’s the second thing?”

  “That we book it for tomorrow.” Priscilla, who had been leaning against Philip’s desk, sprang to attention as he said this.

  “No way.”

  “Look, you’re acting impulsively. That tells me you want to take the plunge before you lose your nerve.” Priscilla backed away from him, eyes narrowed in distrust.

  “All I’m saying is if you are really dead-set on leaving, you’re going to feel the same way tomorrow. Stay one more night so I can take you out for a final goodbye dinner. I don’t mean to split hairs, but if I remember correctly, you initially agreed to stay three days and it’s only been two. Besides, Caitlin would be crushed if you left town without saying goodbye to her.

  “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot the time. Caitlin’s school let out ten minutes ago! There’ll be hell to pay if Marianne hears about this. Come with me—we can continue this debate in the car,” he said, shepherding Priscilla out of his office. “I swear I’ll drop you at the station if you insist. Scout’s honor.”

  Grudgingly, Priscilla fell in step, her teeth gnashing as she berated herself for being so easily manipulated. She wouldn’t be getting on any train tonight; she knew that as sure as she knew alligators inhabited the Sunshine State.

  Twenty-Six

  “Moo Goo Gai Pan, Moo Goo Gai Pan,” Caitlin repeated over and over, fascinated by the sound of it. “Moo Goo Gai Pan,” she tried again, loudly, affecting a Chinese accent this time.

  “Shhh,” Philip cautioned her, glancing about nervously to see if her imitation had earned them any nasty looks. “Here, drink your Shirley Temple,” he said, pushing the garishly garnished drink in front of her.

  “Look, Daddy—I’ve got an umbrella. Now I can stay dry in case it starts raining inside the restaurant,” she said, holding the tiny paper parasol above her head.

  “What’s making you so silly tonight?” Philip asked, slightly peeved by his daughter’s animated behavior. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have bothered him, but so far he’d had little time to persuade Priscilla to change her plans—permanently, if he had his way. Far from having a sobering effect on her, Caitlin roared with laughter at her father’s admonishment.

  Priscilla, enjoying Caitlin’s antics, especially for the fact they were getting on Philip’s nerves, giggled softly as she sucked on her diet coke. Philip shot her a look—at once stern and perplexed—but Priscilla merely smiled and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say “she’s your kid, not mine.”

  “Anyway, as I started to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Philip began, turning his attention back to Priscilla, “I just want you to remember that if at any time you feel like you’ve made a mistake, you’ve always got a job here waiting for you.”

  It was a heartfelt appeal, meant to soften Priscilla to the point that she gave up her stupid idea of moving to Florida once and for all. It did not gratify him in the least to find her on the brink of hysterical laughter. He looked over at his daughter, discovering the reason why. Caitlin had unwrapped her chopsticks and had them protruding from her mouth like giant tusks.

  “Caitlin! Get those things out of your mouth!” he hissed, making an unsuccessful attempt to extract the chopsticks from their moorings. Caitlin sat far back in her chair, chopsticks snug and secure in her mischievous grin.

  While Philip’s attention was diverted from her, Priscilla took the opportunity to fit herself with a pair of exaggerated canines, causing Caitlin to convulse with laughter. She fought to keep her sticks in place while Priscilla smiled serenely.

  Philip, slow to follow what his dinner companions were up to, belatedly realized he had been outnumbered. Giving up his role as parent and adult, he hid his face behind a napkin, only to pull it away with a dramatic flourish once he had his chopsticks in place.

  Priscilla held her dignity, hard as it was, and Caitlin, being a quick study, finally managed to stifle her mirth. Philip, acting once again the sober patriarch, sat proudly erect with his wooden incisors dangling from his prim smile.

  Without warning, a flurry of waiters appeared with overloaded plates of foods, causing Philip to freeze with mortification. He sat, stoic and unflinching, as the waiter announced the various dishes. The girls, delighting in his discomfort, barely controlled themselves, fighting back their laughter until the waiters left them.

  Though the staff had been aloof enough to not stare at their odd patrons, the trio’s antics had not gone unnoticed. But instead of plucking his chopsticks from his mouth in embarrassment, Philip gamely wriggled his mouth from side to side, making them dance wildly about until one shook loose and fell to his plate.

  The hilarity of such a sight was too much for Caitlin to bear; she laughed so hard, she quickly lost both her chopsticks. Priscilla, the only one with her fangs securely in place, grinned broadly, making her sticks jut out the sides of her mouth like comic whiskers.

  By this time, Philip and Caitlin had abandoned all pretense of self-control. Caitlin was barely visible ov
er the table top, having slid halfway down in her chair, nearly strangling on her convulsive laughter. Even Philip’s normally unshakeable composure had surrendered to a barrage of frenzied gasps and wheezes.

  Priscilla casually removed her chopsticks when she became conscious of the attention their behavior was attracting. She calmly dished Kung Pao Shrimp, Lemon Chicken and Moo Goo Gai Pan all around, allowing time for Philip and his daughter to pull themselves together.

  Though they managed to get through their meal without further embarrassing displays, the evening had irrevocably shaken its serious tone. Even if Philip wanted to broach the subject of Priscilla’s imminent departure, he would’ve had an uphill battle.

  The talk at their table had deteriorated to pure nonsense, from entire conversations carried on in faux Chinese, to in-depth examinations and multiple interpretations of all six fortune cookies.

  It became apparent to Philip that throwing herself in collusion with Caitlin was Priscilla’s way of coping with what lay ahead of her, while effectively sidestepping the pressure he had been putting on her. He forced himself to act more aloof and carefree, though inside he was verging on a state of mourning.

  “You’re so lucky!” Caitlin said when her father announced Priscilla’s plans. “You could go to Disneyworld every single day, if you wanted to,” she said, hanging over the side of Priscilla’s seat. “I wish I could move to Florida,” she said, shooting her father a look of longing.

  “Sit back and put your seatbelt on,” he ordered, not at all happy with her hearty endorsement. She was just a kid; how could she know that Florida was the graveyard for adult minds?

  In her childish fantasies, theme parks and aquatic diversions abounded. Little did she know the banal pleasure-seeking activities had to satisfy a person from youth to old age. There was no culture there, for crying out loud. How could an ex-New Yorker ever be content with an endless cycle of sun and sand and nightclubs for the rest of her existence?