by Kate Gilead
“I went ahead and bought it. Jenny doesn’t know yet. I’m going to tell her at dinner, when I give her the ring.”
“Oooh, Blake, she’ll love that! How romantic!”
“Jesus, Blakey. Stop showing off! Now, I gotta find a way to top that, too? Eeee hee hee!”
Elaine ignores him. “You have a particular type of house in mind?”
“Not really, but Bennett Contracting has shown us some plans, given us some ideas. Custom homes are more of a side thing for Nick these days, but his crew builds the best new homes in Columbus right now. Obviously, it’ll take a few months to make it happen. It’d be nice to take a vacation and plan the wedding while our home is being built.”
Elaine closes her eyes and lets out a whoop. “I can’t wait!”
“Elaine? Just a second. I don’t…I mean, it may not be a traditional wedding. When we were on the property, Jennifer said she could see us getting married there, among the trees, by the stream.”
“That sounds wonderful! Perfect. I’ll help her plan whatever kind of wedding she wants. Say…do your parents know?
“Only my Dad. Jennifer’s been taking Mom out. Shopping, hair salon, chick flicks. They’re bonding, so Dad and me wanna let Jenny tell her the news herself.”
“Good idea! Yes, the bride-to-be always likes to have someone to share her own good news with. I bet your parents are happy you’re back in town. And happy that you’ve found someone,” Elaine says.
“Yes, and they’re happy about grandkids too. Hah! Dad’s such a––Angel, you know what a shit-disturber he is––when he first met Jennifer, Dad thanked her for dating me. Told her they were afraid I was the oldest virgin in LA!”
“Wow, your Dad’s wiseass,“ Angel says, deadpan. “Dunno where he gets that. Black sheep of the family, that guy.”
“Oh my God!” Elaine says. “Black sheep, my behind! You Cameron men are all exactly alike!”
I promise to let them know how the proposal goes, and we all sign off for the night.
It’s Friday. We’re at Carmel’s. Jenny’s a little tipsy. I’ve been re-filling her wine glass because I’m nervous and I don’t want her to know.
Besides, she’s so funny when she’s tipsy and relaxed.
And she so rarely relaxes. My girl needs to have more fun.
Dinner’s over. We’re both eating cheesecake for dessert, and she’s chatty and people-watching and giggly. I’m loving it. Her beautiful mouth, her white smile such a turn on, I have to keep thinking about work to avoid springing a woody.
But I still haven’t given her the ring.
I dunno, something about the restaurant setting just feels…wrong. It’s a lovely place, the food, the service…it’s all excellent.
It’s just…too fancy, maybe?
Yeah.
Too fake, too pretentious.
It’s not Jenny, and it’s definitely not me.
I’m restless, I can’t relax. The box with the ring in it feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I have to force myself to finish the cheesecake. It’s good, but I can’t enjoy it.
Jenny’s watching me. “Something wrong, Blake? You’re…fidgeting.”
“No. I mean, yeah. I…I…” I put my hand on the ring box in my pocket…and suddenly, I know what to do.
Why I didn’t think of this before?
“C’mon, let’s get outta here. I wanna show you something.”
I pay the bill and hustle Jenny out to the car. I hold her door open for her and give her a discreet smack on the ass before she climbs in.
“Oooh!” She swipes at my hand but misses. “What’s going on, Blake?” she laughs. “Where we going?”
“You’ll see.”
The sun is lowering in the sky. I figure we have about half an hour of light left.
Should be plenty of time.
I head out towards the building lot I purchased for our home. It’s not far away, and Jenny quickly catches on to where we’re going.
“We’re going to Johnstown? What for, sweetie?”
“You’ll see.”
Ten minutes later, I’m driving down the dirt road towards our lot.
I turn into the driveway and we see that the LOT FOR SALE sign’s sporting a brand-new new “SOLD” sticker.
“Oh shit, Blake. Someone bought it,” Jenny says. Her disappointment is so evident, it gives my heart a pang.
But she won’t feel that way for long.
“Sure looks like it,” I say.
I proceed down the long driveway to the graded area where the house will be eventually be built, and park the car.
She’s looking at me with hopeful confusion. “What? Why are we here?”
I get out of the vehicle, go around to her side of the car and open the door.
“C’mon,” I say, holding my hand out.
She takes my hand and gets out. “Eww, yuck…the ground is sandy here. Are we going far? My heels are gonna sink…hey! Oh!”
I scoop her up in my arms, which makes her giggle. “What…what are you doing? Oh my God…Blake!”
Grinning, I carry her to a wide tree stump near the graded area and put her down on that.
It’s beautiful here. So quiet, with only the soft chirps of a few birds getting ready for bed and the first crickets, calling.
In the west, the setting sun paints the trees and the landscape with golden bands of light.
Jennifer stands on the stump, holding my arm, and just looks around, taking it all in. “Ahh! It’s so nice here…so quiet. I love it! And it smells so good!”
“I know. I love it too.” I take a deep breath. “Welcome home, Jennifer.”
“Home? OH! Oh my God! Really? You mean…that sold sign? It’s ours…oh! OH!”
I’m nodding and grinning as I get down on one knee and take the ring box out of my pocket.
Her eyes get as wide as saucers and both her hands go to her mouth.
I look up at her. “Jennifer Jane Gordon.” I say, and suddenly, my vision gets blurry.
I have to stop, blink, and clear my throat. Just say it, just get it out, I tell myself.
“Jenny. I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?”
Her breath rushes out of her, her whole body trembles, and the tears pooling in her lovely blue eyes spill down her cheeks.
She nods, her hand still over her mouth.
Then, with a half-laugh and a half-sob, she takes her hands away from her mouth and holds them out to me. “Yes! Oh my God! Yes!”
I stand up and she throws her arms around me. Taking her by the waist, I lift her off her feet. She kisses my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, and then finally my mouth, giggling and crying and saying how beautiful this is, how much she loves and appreciates me, how she’ll never forget this moment as long as she lives.
Her smile, her tears, her joy, her gratitude…all her emotions swell my heart so much it feels like it’s about to burst.
And her giggling is so contagious, I can’t help laughing myself.
Sweet girl! How’d I get so lucky?
“Let’s see how the ring looks, Jenny girl.”
“Yes, okay, the ring, let’s try the ring!” Giggling and snorting and giddy, she lets go of me and wipes at her tears.
Taking the ring from the box, I take her left hand in mine and slide it onto her finger.
It’s a perfect fit.
The End
Epilogue
BLAKE
My contract with Delcroft is almost done. Soon, I’ll be outta here.
Whether Jennifer leaves the company with me or not is still up in the air. I’ve already learned not to bug her too much. She has to make up her own mind.
The week after our engagement, work is quiet, uneventful. Things go okay, just the usual Delcroft fuck-ups. No counterfeit goods show up, and nothing untoward happens.
Same with the week after that.
Until, the following Thursday, when Flora fails to show up. Usually, she opens and closes the office, meaning
she’s the first to arrive and the last to leave. When Jenny and I get to work that day, we have to wait outside the office until a manager shows up, who’s just as baffled as we are.
Flora doesn’t report to me, so we don’t know for sure, but we can only assume she’s having a sick day.
We hope she’s okay of course, but don’t give it another thought.
Friday morning, when we pull in to the office parking lot, it’s immediately apparent that something is up.
Two police cars flank the driveway, and police tape drapes the entrance to the building, ready to be tied into place.
Four black SUVs with fully-tinted windows sit in the parking lot, each one parked perfectly straight and precisely in its spot.
Jenny and I goggle at the cop cars, the SUVs and then at each other.
“Geez!,” Jenny says. “I wonder if someone died.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” I mutter, hoping it’s not the case.
I put the truck in park and shut the engine off. Just as I do, the front door opens and a bunch of guys wearing identical black suits start marching out, each one carrying a stack of banker boxes. They begin loading the boxes into the SUVs as Jenny and I watch.
“Now…that doesn’t bode too well. Looks like an investigation’s going on,” I say.
The door opens again and this time, Don the warehouse manager emerges, hands behind his back, one of the black-suited men close behind him, holding him by his plastic-tied wrists.
Don stares at us forlornly as he’s ‘helped’ into the back seat of one of the SUVs, disappearing from our view behind the tinted glass. A guy––agents of some kind obviously––gets into the vehicle on either side of him, pulling the doors closed after them.
“What the hell? What’s going on?” Jenny says.
“I dunno, but those guys are all dressed like special agents. Special cops or investigators maybe.”
The front door opens again and old man Delcroft himself is frog-marched out. Reginald Delcroft Senior, the elder board member, shareholder and majority owner of the company is ‘helped’ into another SUV before our astonished eyes.
“Holy shit!” I say. “This is serious! They’re busting old man Delcroft!”
Yep. Something went down. These people are all investigators, maybe FBI or some other agency.
And this is indeed… a bust!
Another black-suited agent comes out of the door, this one wearing an earpiece. He spots us, and hustles over.
“Sir? I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave. This is a criminal investigation.”
And then a woman emerges, sporting an earpiece and aviator sunglasses. She’s wearing a black tailored skirt and jacket over a sensible white shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and a pair of ugly black brogues adorn her feet. She exits the front door, spots us, and strides over to the truck.
“It’s okay, Jenkins. I’ll take responsibility for these two.”
Jenny and I both do a double-take.
It’s…Flora!
“Ten-four, Special Agent Coffey.” The man scurries away.
“Flora? What the…Special Agent Coffey? I thought your last name was Thomas? You’re a…a…what the hell are you?” Jennifer sputters.
The black-suited guys are still going in and out, carrying boxes of records and cartons of who-knows-what.
“Interpol.” Flora takes a badge from her pocket and flips it open, holding it up so that we can both read it. The name on the badge says Diane Coffey. “This is the closing phase of a long investigation. Delcroft is home to quite a nest of criminals.”
She removes her sunglasses. She still resembles Flora, but…she’s wearing so little makeup, and her voice is so…different, so…serious…she seems like an entirely different person.
“Diane Coffey,” Flora says, and holds her hand out to Jennifer. “Pleased to meet you folks.” With that, she grins, and for a moment, she looks like herself again. Like the Flora we know.
“I…wow! I knew there was some bad shit going on here,” I say. Then I remember Flora’s comments, some time ago, about how scumbags lay low when the heat is on.
And apparently, so does Jennifer. “Flora…what you said about scumbags…the heat? You’re the heat! Undercover heat!”
Flora says nothing, but the grin widens just a touch before disappearing.
“Please call me Diane. Other members of this ring are being arrested elsewhere as we speak.”
I laugh. “Interpol! So that’s how you did it! I always wondered how the hell you knew so much, for a receptionist! Ear to the ground, my ass!”
Flora––Diane––smiles but says nothing.
“Members of the ring?” Jennifer says. “It’s…a ring? Operating from Delcroft?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flora, or, Diane, replies. “Counterfeit goods of all kinds. Fall protection hardware was a new venture for them. Bad idea, since that’s what caught our eye. They should’ve stuck to what they know.”
“And what’s that?” I ask.
“Counterfeit sunglasses, bags, clothing, and other such goods. The Delcrofts own warehouses all over the Midwest, many of them used as illicit distribution centers.”
“But…they’re…but…but…..” Jenny stutters, then stops herself and takes a breath. “What I’m trying to say is…are they really contractors? Or was…is that just a front?”
“Not just a front. The family built an honest business. However, in recent years, something apparently changed. We’re still digging out all the facts, but, we have enough to prosecute the main players now.”
“Don? I’d never guess…he seems like such a nice guy!”
“He is,” Diane says. “If a judge, or maybe, a jury, thinks so too, maybe they’ll be easy on him. He’ll have to throw himself on the mercy of the court.”
“So…about work?” Jenny asks. “Our jobs…I mean…do you know anything about that?”
I’m pretty sure we’re both out of a job now, no matter what. Oh well. My contract is so close to being done, I’ve collected all but the last, maybe, thousand dollars from it anyway.
“The only official statement I can give you,” Diane says, her expression grim, “is that these premises are now part of a crime scene under investigation. You won’t be allowed in there anyway.”
Blake and I look at each other, eyes wide.
Then, another grin lights Diane’s face, and for a moment, she’s Flora again. “Unofficially, though? I’d say, start looking for another job. Delcroft is finished, done, kaput. They’ll never come back from this.”
JENNY
Blake and I speak with Diane aka Flora for another fifteen minutes or so, getting as much information from her as she’s willing to give.
Then we drive home, both of us in a state of shock.
“Wow! The whole time…Flora’s an uncover agent! Can you believe that? Interpol! She’s like…an international FBI agent or something!”
“She should get an Oscar for her performance as ‘Flora’,” Blake says. “Apart from that one comment she made about the heat, and a couple times when she seemed to know so much for a mere receptionist, she hit all the right notes. I had no idea she was anything but what she seemed.”
“Yeah. She seemed like a normal office worker. Down to earth, hard-working, nutty, in a fun way. She…Blake, I swear, she really did receptionist work while she was there. I saw her, I worked with her! I know she did! She didn’t just play the part, she really did the job.”
“Yeah. I guess they have to, or else they’ll blow their cover. But apparently, Delcroft Sr. did become suspicious about something, because they ceased movement of all illicit goods. Something made them nervous.”
“Flora, I mean, Diane, thinks it was that safety guy who died in mysterious circumstances on that job site in LA.”
“Yes, Bob Miller. Angel and I knew him. That could be enough to make Delcroft and his people nervous. Maybe they realized they were in over their heads. They probably were! This is the mafia they
’re dealing with, honest-to-God gangsters. They don’t fuck around.” He falls silent, then reaches over to caress my leg. “I’m just glad it’s over. Aren’t you?”
I think about it for a few minutes. Am I glad it’s over?
I realize that I am. Delcroft was…ugh. A good place for work experience, maybe, but a shitty place to work. Working for corrupt, disorganized company, even just to take the money and run, is never going to feel like the right thing to do.
“Yeah. I’m glad too,” I agree, putting my hand over his.
“Well. We got some time off now,” Blake says. “You’ll have to think about what you want to do.”
I nod. “We should call Nick and Amanda and let them know. I can start right away, but…maybe it’s not such a bad idea to take some time off.”
“Not such a bad idea? Jesus, Jenny. That’s what I’ve been saying since Flora told us what she overheard that day! Damn right, let’s take some time off!”
“Diane, you mean.”
“Right, right. Diane. Shee-it!”
I smile. “I know, right? Diane? Who the hell is that? She’ll always be Flora to me.”
We spend much of the rest of the day on the phone. Blake talks to Nick and then Angel, and then his parents, and then a bunch of other people he knows in the business.
I talk to my mom, then Amanda, then a few other friends and some work contacts as well. Nick and Amanda offer assurances that we’ll still be under consideration when they’re ready to hire their permanent compliance staff, but that day is still a ways off.
Blake doesn’t need to work. And maybe I don’t any more now, either. I know he loves me and wants to provide for me, support me…but I feel weird about it.
I guess, until we have kids, I’ll feel weird having him support me while I sit on my ass.
Flopped on the couch, with Dog curled up and purring between us, I tell him. I tell him how I feel, how letting him support me makes me feel useless and obligated and well…gold-diggy, I guess.
“Gold-diggy?” He snorts, laughing. “First, that’s not a word. And second, how can you be “gold-diggy” when I’m the one telling you to knock off and take a vacation with me? Jesus Christ…what is this? It’s like there’s some guilt-trip laid on women who only work inside the home now.”