Be My Neat-Heart

by Baer, Judy

  There was no use fussing about the inconvenience. It would be over soon enough.

  “That’s fine. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  The woman, relieved that I didn’t complain, led me toward my next indulgence.

  The luxurious pedicure chair looked like a throne. The heavily cushioned leather engulfed me as I scrambled into place. She turned on the massage mechanisim and rollers began to work the muscles in my back. Warm water was bubbling for me to sink my feet into and everything was in place for the manicure to follow. Then I caught a waft of almonds and vanilla. Aromatherapy, too.

  “Do you care for a beverage? Pineapple juice? Apricot? Apple? No? Then I’ll leave you for a few moments so you can relax and soak your feet before the pedicure.”

  I sank into the chair and waited to be pampered.

  I must have dozed off as my feet steeped in the aromatic water they’d scattered with rose petals, because I was startled awake by a man’s voice coming from the next bay.

  “A manicure and a pedicure? She ordered me a pedicure? Surely there’s some mistake.”

  “No, Mr. Hamilton, it says right here, very specifically, that you are to have a pedicure this hour. So, if you’d just like to put your feet in this water….”

  “No, I don’t want to… What’s that stuff floating in it?”

  “Rose petals.”

  “I might as well stick my feet in soda pop. Cross this off the list and give my sister a refund or something. She can use it to pay for her straightjacket, the one she’s going to be wearing when someone in the medical community hears what she’s done….”

  “Oh, sir, I don’t have authority. I’d have to go to the front desk. It might take a few minutes. They’re having some trouble with…”

  “I know, I know. ‘The plumbing in the men’s spa.’”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle as I heard Jared say wearily, “Then let’s just do it. I can see that stopping this charade my sister has dreamed up will be harder than just getting it over with.” Then there was splashing and a little yelp from Jared as his back hit the massaging rollers installed in the chair.

  “Do women actually like this stuff?” he muttered. “And what on earth is that smell?”

  All grew silent as we steeped side-by-side in our own rosy brew. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.

  But, if I were completely honest, a part of me was wickedly enjoying his discomfort. Not one of my finer moments. Suddenly I was reminded of Luke 7, when a woman wet Christ’s feet with her tears, wiped them with the hair of her head and anointed them. Perhaps Molly believed she was doing on act of atonement. Who was I to stand in the way of that? My attitude began to improve.

  Please make Jared grateful. I know Molly is trying to be good to him. Help him see her motives, not the awkwardness. And help me to be gracious as well. I’m sorry for my attitude toward him. I’m going to try to improve. Help me?

  As the procedures progressed, I didn’t announce my presence on the other side of the canvas wall. I was having far too much fun hearing Jared experience his first pedicure.

  “Ouch! What are you doing? You’re scrubbing awfully hard, aren’t you?”

  “Your first pedicure, Mr. Hamilton?”

  “And my last. A manicure is one thing, but this… That tickles!” Splashing noises came from the other side of the trompe l’oeil-decorated canvas wall.

  I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.

  There was a sudden and profound silence from Jared’s space.

  Finally Jared’s voice came floating over the divide. “Sammi, is that you?”

  “Yes. And although I can’t imagine why she sent you here, the least you can do is be gracious about it.”

  “Gracious? They’re making soup out of my feet and trying to asphyxiate me with weird smells. And—” he gave another yelp of protest “—don’t do that, it tickles!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Best pedicure I’ve ever had, I thought later as I got ready for my facial. Definitely the most fun. Hearing Jared splash around in the foot bath, yelping every time the poor woman working on him tried to touch the soles of his feet made my mischievous heart sing.

  I’m not a vengeful person by nature, and I do understand why Molly wants her brother and me to get along. She cares about both of us. Her world would be far easier if we didn’t mix like oil and water when we were together. If Molly had been able to accept that, I doubt she would have had the madcap idea to send us on this hopeless trip to throw us together.

  But Jared’s presence isn’t bothering me. Quite frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me if, after that abortive pedicure disaster, he’d already packed up and left. I willed my lips not to twitch, but I couldn’t help it. I was smiling like a ninny when I ran into him in the hall.

  “What are you grinning about?” he said irately.

  “Enjoy your pedicure?” I asked sweetly, truly surprised he hadn’t already turned tail and run.

  “Best thing that’s happened to me all afternoon,” he growled. “Unfortunately I mean that.”

  I tipped my head to one side, confused.

  “Some crazed woman caught me in the hall wondering if I were her next back-waxing appointment.”

  My eyes practically bulged from my head in my effort to keep from laughing. “Were you?”

  “I didn’t stick around to find out.”

  I shrugged helplessly to show that I, too, was being swept along by the force of Molly’s wave.

  “I wish I hadn’t fired her before. Then I could have fired her now,” he muttered.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I said, trying to push by his large, athletic form. “I have a glycolic acid peel next. I’m going to be exfoliated.”

  “I certainly hope so,” he mumbled irritably. “Sounds like something that should happen to Molly, too. Is it painful?” he added hopefully.

  I found myself grinning. “Why don’t you try it and find out?” In spite of myself, I had to give the man credit. He was clearly sticking this out not because he wanted to, but because he knew it was important to Molly. There was such a dichotomy in the dynamics between them. He could fire her, but he couldn’t disappoint her by leaving the spa.

  “Because,” he said as he thrust what looked like a dance card at me, “she’s got me scheduled down to the minute. Next, I have a facial! They tell me men have them here all the time. What does this face need with a facial, anyway?”

  Not much, my errant brain replied. There was very little that could improve on Jared’s blatant handsomeness.

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” I felt a good mood rising within me. At some point during that hilarious pedicure, I’d realized I’d decided to relax and enjoy the weekend because Jared was here rather than in spite of him. He’d provided good entertainment thus far.

  “We might as well walk together,” I suggested. “Since we both have appointments for facials.”

  “I thought you were having a peel of some sort, like having your skin ripped off, right?”

  “Don’t you wish. Sounds to me like we’re having the same thing done.”

  “Not me.” He started to turn away.

  “But you’ll disappoint your sister.”

  He hesitated.

  “And this will remove all your dead skin cells, fine lines and wrinkles. You’ll be a new man.”

  His eyes were slits when he looked at me. “What’s wrong with the old one?”

  “Ah, let me count the ways.” I slipped my arm into his and steered him toward our next appointments.

  I didn’t see Jared again until supper, when we met at our assigned table. The dining room had been dimmed and candles lit. The golfers had come in from the course and were having dinner with their pampered spouses. There was a happy hum of muted conversations throughout the room.

  There was, however, more of a miserable, wretched, moaning grumble at our table.

  For one thing, Jared and I had discovered something else we h
ad in common. We are both sensitive to glycolic acid and had faces red as boiled beets. I, being fair, had gotten the worst of it. The last time I’d been this red was the day I walked across the stage to pick up my graduation diploma with four feet of toilet tissue dragging from the heel of my shoe.

  “The skin will grow back eventually, don’t you think?” I asked by way of starting a conversation. Were I with anyone else—someone, for example, that I’d had a crush on—I might have felt embarrassed. Jared, however, had somehow become a comfort zone for me to be myself. After all, if I was a beet, he was at least a radish.

  He leaned back in his chair and studied me. “Why are we doing this, Sammi? Why don’t we both just pick up and go home?”

  “Because we’re having fun?” I ventured as I stirred sweetener into my iced tea.

  “Your idea of fun is being tortured, poked, prodded, having acid thrown in your face and being forced to breathe noxious fumes? Excuse me, but you’re loonier than my sister.”

  “Come on, admit it. This will make a great story to tell your friend Ethan.”

  “You think I’d ever admit this to Ethan? Are you kidding?”

  “Afraid of jeopardizing your masculinity?” I teased.

  “Not in the least. I’m very sure of my masculinity.” He leaned forward and his gaze captured mine. “I make you nervous, don’t I, Sammi?”

  Unfortunately at that very second, a wave of anxiety shivered its way down my spine. He did make me nervous. And what made me more uneasy still was that this unexpected feeling that had nothing to do with Molly and everything to do with me.

  Batting the thought away like a bug in lamplight, I retorted, “You’re talking nonsense.”

  “Am I?” He shifted in his seat. “Then you won’t mind spending the evening with me. I hear they have wonderful entertainment for the guests in the evening. Music, games, walks in the moonlight…”

  Music and moonlight? Oh, no. I love M&M’s—music and moonlight—the most vulnerable of my romantic weaknesses.

  “Thanks for asking, but I’d better get to bed early. I’m scheduled for aerobics and a session with a weight trainer in the morning.”

  “Me, too. Molly probably planned it that way. She obviously wants us to kiss and make up, so why don’t we oblige her?”

  Just when I thought my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, they did. Kiss and make up?

  “So to speak. Come on, Sammi. I dare you.” His eyes glittered as he leaned so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

  Dare. A challenge. Another Achilles’ heel. One of these days I’m going to pay dearly for my pride and deserve every bit of it.

  “Shall we?” Jared offered me his arm and nodded toward the grounds bathed in moonlight. The walks were lit by unobtrusive path lamps, and the bullfrogs and cicada were warming up their band. I was dizzy from the fragrance of freshly trimmed grass and floral scents I couldn’t name.

  “Oh, why not?” I said brightly. For being with a man I didn’t like, I was certainly having difficulty fending off his charms. But it was only for tonight. Reality and tomorrow would come soon enough.

  We walked a long time without speaking. Our steps matched perfectly, one benefit of being a tall woman paired with a tall man. For once I felt practically petite in comparison to my escort. I’m often told I have the build of a model. It’s not all its cracked up to be. Being tall and long-legged sometimes makes it hard to find a date that I don’t tower over. Especially in high heels.

  The beauty of the night and the grounds was staggering in its perfection. It was almost as if I had spoken my own thoughts when Jared said, “God really knew what He was doing, didn’t He?”

  Though Molly had told me that Jared was a Christian, this statement still surprised me. I’m not sure what I expected of him. I suppose in my own mind, I’d become both judge and jury concerning him. Shame on me.

  Still, I blurted, “Do you believe He’s a God of compassion and mercy?”

  “Yes. And justice, too.” He paused by a large oak.

  “Jared, there’s something I have to ask you.” My mouth went dry and the wings of the butterflies in my stomach were large as palm leaves.

  “Hmm.” He led me toward a wooden-platform swing tucked beneath the tree. In front of it was a small pond lit from beneath. I could see the koi resting near the bottom. He settled me in it as tenderly as if I were a child before dropping down beside me. We sat there, gently moving back and forth, sharing an innate rhythm.

  Finally he spoke. “What question might that be?”

  “If you are a Christian and if you love your sister, how could you fire her? I see such affection and respect between the two of you on one hand and such frustration and anger on the other. If what you say is true, how could you treat your sister this way? Firing her from her own business? Putting her out—” I snapped my newly polished fingers “—just like that.”

  “‘Just like that’?” He frowned, but I saw genuine sadness in his expression. “You think it was easy, then?”

  “No. It couldn’t have been easy. Molly respects and admires you. She loves you. Help me to understand.”

  He was silent so long that I was terrified I’d offended him and ruined this new, sweet truce between us.

  Finally, he spoke. “I fired Molly because she asked me to.”

  Shock made me sit bolt upright. “What?”

  I could see him shake his head and scrape his fingers through his hair, the signal of his greatest agitation. “Molly did something at the office…to the office…that I found unconscionable. I let my anger get the best of me, I’m afraid. God forgive me. I’ve regretted it ever since, but there was no way I could pull back my words. In my rage, I told her that if she were anyone else, I would have fired her on the spot. That I should fire her. That if she didn’t get her messes straightened out, I would fire her. I regretted it immediately but there was no way I could take it back.”

  I stiffened. What was he saying?

  “Molly, being Molly, jumped on it. She said she wanted me to fire her. That it would be best all-around.” His breath caught in his throat. “She knew I was angry. She also knew why I was angry. She demanded that I tell people what she’d done and then fire her.”

  I’d tipped over and fallen through the looking glass were everything was topsy-turvy. “I don’t understand.”

  Jared pulled an envelope from out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I’d forgotten this was in my jacket until I noticed it while I was dressing. Maybe it’s for the best. You can read the instigating message for yourself.”

  I opened the envelope and pulled out the impressive letterhead. I leaned forward to read it in the dim lamplight.

  …I am sorry to inform you that I have chosen not to use the services of Hamilton and Hamilton. Although your firm has a sterling reputation, I am inclined to place significant weight on first impressions. The somewhat confusing presentation given to me by Ms. Hamilton leads me to question the organizational abilities of your company. As I indicated in our phone conversation, Ms. Hamilton came to the presentation unprepared or, at least, without notes and the promised support materials which she had apparently forgotten at her office.

  It is with regret that I must inform you of this. You were recommended to me by someone I regard highly and, although I found your partner delightful as a person, she appears unable to keep track of a large portfolio such as my own.

  A word of warning: I have heard through the business grapevine of other instances in which Ms. Hamilton “dropped the ball,” so to speak. You might want to look at the effect that is having on your office’s reputation.

  “I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. Neither did I want it to reflect badly on Molly. She’s a smart woman with glaring weaknesses that she can’t seem to overcome. She knew I wouldn’t announce to the world that she’d made a blunder, so she decided to help me. At our staff meeting she made it known to one and all that she’d been fired.”

  What?

>   “How was I supposed to sort that out? It couldn’t be done right there, in front of everyone. Her reputation would have been ruined. So I played along. I told them that I would fire Molly if she made another error—and I refused to say what the error was—but that I was giving her one more chance to redeem herself and that everyone would have to trust me to decide if Molly were to stay in the company or not.

  “She was furious with me. She’d hoped she’d maneuvered me into a corner and had trapped me into letting her go. She knew I wouldn’t let her quit, that even if she didn’t come to work, I’d still send her a paycheck, and so she tried to make the problem public.”

  “I don’t get it, Jared.”

  He looked at me fixedly and I could see the intensity in his eyes. “That’s because that’s where you came in—as Molly’s ‘second chance.’”

  “Me?”

  “It’s why Ethan introduced us and why I hired you. I didn’t want to fire Molly. I wanted her to get her act together. And I didn’t want anyone to know the kind of blunders she’d made. I wanted to protect her. But her self-esteem has dropped to such a desperate low that I believe she was trying to get me to punish her.” There was a catch in his voice as he added, “And now, it seems, she’s succeeded.”

  My mind wasn’t agile enough to comprehend all he was saying. Still, there was one refrain that seemed stuck on a loop in my mind. He isn’t the bad guy after all. He isn’t the bad guy. He isn’t the bad guy.

  So if Jared Hamilton isn’t the bad guy, who is he?

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What on earth could she have done that was so awful? And why is her self-esteem so low? She’s smart, attractive charming, funny…” I caught myself before adding, just like you.

  “First, I’d like you to understand how it is with Molly, how it’s always been.” I saw him run his tongue over his lower lip as he took a breath. Always, it seems, he has difficulty talking about Molly.