Hip to Be Square

by Hope Lyda

  My phone rings and disrupts our personal moment. I look at the caller ID. Caitlin. Actually, this is perfect timing.

  “I will leave you alone for this call. Time for me to put on some real clothes.” She heads toward her room and I quickly connect with my friend.

  “Caitlin!”

  “Mari, how are you? That message you left me last night, about quitting your job or wanting to be old…I got worried. It was pretty garbled.”

  “No. I don’t want to get old. I want to get my old life back, Caitlin.”

  “I never advised you to do the hair thing.”

  “Not just the hair. The job and the sense of purpose I had but didn’t know I had at Golden Horizons. I don’t want the fancy apartment with the private study or the convertible. I just want things the way they were.”

  “Quitting a new job is easy, but how will you get your old job back?”

  “I don’t know. I kinda left on bad terms with Rae. And from what I hear, they don’t have the money to hire me. What a mess. The only chance I might have is to hold a successful fund-raiser in the next two weeks. Then Rae might listen to me.”

  “Does switching to your old life mean you don’t want to give your relationship with Beau a serious try?”

  “Just the opposite, actually. I’m not scared anymore.”

  “I have to admit that when you left Golden Horizons, I was sad. Happy about your cool new job, but I liked the idea of you helping those people.”

  “Speaking of which, I wish you were here. Caitlin, you’d freak out. You know Tess’ collection of clothes?”

  “Yes. Do you get to keep those? Don’t kid me about something like that.”

  “I do…and about two hundred other pieces.”

  “Don’t pull my leg, Mari. Just don’t. Describe something!”

  “I’ll do better than that. I have the camera phone the spa gave me. I’ll send you a couple images. Call me right back.” We hang up and I snap several very interesting pieces: a sequined tank dress with little mirrors sewn all over it, three hats that resemble pieces of furniture, and a bizarre pair of shoes with very sixties psychedelic colors and a ridiculous heel.

  Caitlin returns my call almost as soon as I send the images. “No way. Mari, do you know what these things are worth? Just the time period alone is so hip right now. The dress…I’m almost sure it is an original Chanel, the hats are made by a private company in London that only did designs for the royal family, and those shoes…Mari…those are Roger Vivier creations, they just have to be. He invented that heel shaped like a comma. And the stiletto heel! Nobody did art on shoes or art out of shoes like Vivier. I thought I was jealous of your boyfriend, but forget him. Just give me the clothes.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll need you to advise me about what these amazing items are and how to care for them. We might need to contact some museum curators too. I think a few of these pieces should be under secured glass.”

  “Um, yeah. Try keeping me away. Call me tomorrow. You are still coming home tonight, right?”

  “Yep. Tell the others hi for me. Bye.”

  “Perfect timing!” Gisele bursts in the room with a Japanese-style full-length dress made of brilliant blue silk with black-and-red embroidery. Stunning doesn’t begin to describe her.

  “It’s a good thing I don’t have to decide on one to wear right now. My mind is incapable of focusing.”

  “Sadly, a first decision is upon you. I wanted you here before we sent them off in case you wanted to select any for me to sell. Well, not me, of course. But I have a friend, Isabel Rossi, who works in the upscale vintage resale industry here in New York. She could certainly serve you well.”

  “Sell?” This hadn’t been among my first thoughts. Would that betray Tess?

  “That is, unless you plan on having a fashion show any time soon,” Gisele says, laughing.

  She is still amused by the thought when the idea whirls about my mind and kicks my creativity into gear with the force of a comma-shaped Roger Vivier heel.

  “That’s what I’ll do!”

  Tess has not only given me designer labels, she has inspired the design for my soon-to-be created, elaborate, detailed master plan to get my old life back in a matter of days. This task would normally be daunting—but that’s before I discovered that I have potential.

  Countdown: Day Ten

  Saturday

  A flight home can be quite productive when you stay up until dawn composing emails to send out the next, very important day in a ten-day plan. Racking my brain and straining single threads of connection to people of relative influence, I have a checklist in hand of those who will be instrumental in the dismantling of my new life and the resurrection of the old.

  Before I even finish breakfast I have taken care of my first order of business: use my “change of financial circumstance” clause to free myself of the lease for Canyon Crest. This decision also means I will not have to pack up my belongings. I have saved myself endless hours of labor right there.

  I give the remainder of my cereal milk to Elmo to make up for my three-day absence.

  The landline rings and triggers my jet-lag shakes. “Hello?”

  “Caitlin reporting for duty. I have Angelica here with me, and we are going to pick up Sadie. Should we meet you at the Sante Fe so you can tell us exactly what you are scheming?”

  I wipe a Sugar Rice Puff crumb from my lip. “Sure. Meet you there.”

  “Do we get a hint? I mean, getting your old life back…does that really involve a master plan? Couldn’t you just play Sweatin’ to the Oldies and go back to calling bingo numbers?” Angelica shouts into Caitlin’s phone.

  “Believe me, a plan is needed. And why don’t we meet at Freddy’s for ol’ times’ sake?”

  The girls are seated at our usual table by the time I arrive at the restaurant. From the enthusiastic reception I receive, an observer would assume I have been gone for weeks. Even Angelica seems joyful, and this is before coffee.

  First, I insist that everybody else share what is going on. It seems like so long since we have talked to one another. Caitlin is eager to begin.

  “Well, I started blending some of those Mexican textiles with more conventional fashion fabrics and have come up with some pieces I think could really take off. They aren’t too out there, but just clever enough to get people’s attention.”

  “Oh, I like that already,” chimes in Angelica.

  “Thanks.” Caitlin pauses and actually blushes. When the hiccups start, I know she is holding out on some important information.

  “What is it?” I give her my “divulge” look.

  “I might…might…have a second date with officer Jim.”

  “Second?” Sadie says.

  “I didn’t tell you all about the first because, well, what are the odds I will like a police officer?”

  “With great eyes,” I add.

  She smiles and bites her lower lip. “And the eyes have it…second-date motivation, that is. Why not, right?”

  A busboy comes up to fill our coffee cups.

  “Where’s the waitress?” I inquire.

  “She’s running late. She had an early morning seminar at college.”

  This surprises me a bit. I had never thought about what Cruella did when she didn’t serve tables. I tug on the guy’s apron. “Do you happen to know what class she is taking?”

  “Something tied into her master’s degree, I assume. Samantha’s a real brain. I think it’s psychology, but there is a more specific term,” the teenager scratches his red ear, seemingly embarrassed by the attention of a table full of women. “Oh, yeah. It’s behaviorial science. I remember because she took this job so she’d have material for her thesis on patterned social behaviors. Anyone need decaf?”

  A big round of no’s follows this question.

  Sadie looks around at each of us. “Can you believe it? We are all dating. This has never happened.”

  “Wow.”

  “True. That is strang
e,” I say, still thinking a bit about being a test subject for Cruella…or Samantha.

  Angelica holds up her hand in protest. “I’m not dating Peyton.”

  “Isn’t that just semantics, really?”

  “No. I like the guy a lot. A lot. But…I’ve decided not to date for six months at least. I need to get my focus straight again; dating always throws me off-kilter. You all tease me about my breakup dramas, but living that way really isn’t all that fun or funny. It’s tiring. Peyton says he’ll wait, but I’m not asking him to. I don’t want any pressure to have to date until I’m ready.” Her eyes peer over her coffee cup as she drinks in our first responses.

  Out of surprise and respect, we give her a round of applause.

  “Miss Verity? The table is yours.” Angelica volleys the conversation back to her friend.

  Sadie looks across at me. “Our talk…it really helped. I needed to clear my head and stop focusing on the baggage.” She turns slightly to look at the others. “Carson has a former wife and a ten-year-old son. I was doubting everything. His past. Our future.” She waves away the air in front of her face as if clearing out cobwebs. “Anyway, I’m better. We’re better. I’m not going to second-guess him or where this is going. I plan to enjoy it for what it is right now.”

  “Good for you.” Caitlin pats her friend on the shoulder.

  “No more stalling, Mari. What are you up to?” Angelica taps her fork in my direction.

  After a few stories about my trip home and about the amazing inheritance, I summarize my theory about how one good fund-raiser could be my ticket back to the slow-track life. They all nod in agreement and start to offer some long-term ideas.

  I destroy their mundane suggestions one by one. “No wrapping paper campaigns or walkathons or monthly bingoathons. I have the most fabulous solution, and it will happen in ten days.”

  “Ten days!” Sadie grimaces. “I get testy with a fund-raiser every six months at the Botanical Society.”

  “No frowns. Golden Horizons would have to have the money before the end of the year, so ten days will have to do. Besides, it’s a fabulous idea.” I lean in toward the center of the table and they all follow the secrecy gesture. “It’s a fashion show and auction.”

  Caitlin squeals as she did when we discussed the London royal hats.

  “That is fabulous. And very trendy right now,” Angelica encourages.

  “So you’d part with your inheritance?” Sadie looks at the big picture.

  “Only a few select items. If these pieces are worth what Caitlin and Gisele say…it won’t take many. And you know, that last day I saw Tess, she was wishing she had a way to save Golden Horizons from their financial troubles. This event will support and create awareness for the recreational program’s ongoing needs.”

  Sadie’s concern turns to support. “She’d be very happy. So let’s get busy.” She counts off on her fingers. “With such short notice the key factors might be tough, Mari. Just be prepared. You need a location. Immediate promotion. An emcee. A caterer. Maybe even cosponsors, if that is at all possible.”

  “Wait a minute. Ten days…that’s your birthday.” Caitlin is also counting on her fingers.

  “I thought that would be appropriate since I’ve been carrying around this crazy, but perhaps conceivable, notion that I would have it all…or at least a large stake in the life I want…by the time I am thirty. Of course, now that life looks different than I imagined.”

  “Isn’t that the way it goes,” says Sadie, sighing.

  “Hold it. Ten days would be a Monday. You don’t hold trendy fundraisers on a Monday. It has to be the Saturday before.”

  The blood rushes from my face to my heart, which is racing. “So only eight days to plan the show? Lord, help me.” There’s that prayer again. This time, I mean it. “Well, it’s a good thing I have taken care of one very important piece of this ambitious plan.”

  “What’s that?” Sadie has a pen poised over the napkin she is using for notes.

  “I have three fabulous models who are willing to work the runway for the mere price of a Saturday breakfast.”

  “That is, if we ever will get breakfast!” Angelica raises her voice and shows a bit of her old self.

  Samantha approaches us in a shuffle. It is the fastest I have seen her move. “Orders?” she says, still tying her apron.

  The others order their recent usuals, but she pauses when she gets to me. “Blueberry crepes?”

  “You remembered. I’m touched. But no…I want the Senior Sunrise Delight, thank you very much. There, that wasn’t so hard to say.”

  “Coming right up.” She is surprised by my sunny disposition today; I see her scribble some extra notes on her order pad.

  “Can I ask you a question about your thesis?”

  Samantha looks around her and directs her ballpoint pen in the busboy’s direction. “Did Willy tell you?”

  “Yes, but don’t be mad. We find it fascinating. I’m just curious. Did I make your thesis?” I bat my eyelashes.

  “Are you kidding? You’re one of the main subjects. But don’t worry. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.”

  If only she knew I am the diner formerly known as Chanel.

  Countdown: Day Nine

  Sunday

  I’m sorry I couldn’t be in town to meet you at the airport,” Beau says sincerely. “It’s just such a long drive.”

  I wonder if he says this to address the same-city relationship I have not yet agreed to. “You know, going home really helped me see things clearly. Want to know something funny? I think I was afraid of you…or us. I didn’t want to end up like my parents.”

  “Which is…?”

  I laugh. “Uh, boring, poor, too busy to love me, always sacrificing and never receiving. At least, that was my childhood view.”

  “And now?”

  “I see it for what it is. They are happy, in love, committed, overflowing with gratitude and blessings, and they have boundless love for everyone. I always thought there was a limit…like the well of love would run dry and I would be left out because they were always giving.”

  “I’m glad you figured that out, Mari. That gives me hope that maybe we will be able to date like normal people in the future.”

  “Future. Meaning…not soon?”

  “Well, work has been crazy lately, but I promise that I will be more available down the road. Maybe it is good that we decided to hold off on the move thing.”

  Wait—I didn’t say hold off. I was just indicating we could move forward.

  I become a bit defensive. “It’s okay. I have a bit of a busy schedule ahead of me as well.” I proceed to tell him of my plan. I leave out that my deadline is at all birthday related. I don’t want the guy to think I am desperate. He picks up on it anyway. The deadline part.

  “Seems that a special someone’s birthday is coming up.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Go ahead and be coy. I assume you will want the present I have for you?”

  “Of course! Do I get a hint? I don’t like surprises.”

  “Gosh, I wish I had known that sooner. Too late.”

  He continues to tease me until I can no longer take the not knowing. Before we hang up, he promises to attend the big show and maybe give me a hint then.

  Angelica joins me after church to turn my living room into event headquarters.

  “Let’s move the couch against the wall and then put the dining table in front of it,” she suggests. In seconds we have an ideal master plan desk.

  “Perfect. That gives Yvette and Zane two outlets. They’ll need them for the computers.”

  “What are they doing again?”

  “Believe it or not, I decided to resurrect my old site. But this time it will be all about the fashion show. Yvette designs retail sites, so we will be able to accept bids online.”

  “Genius!”

  “It’s amazing that something I thought was so bad will be a tool for good.” I laugh as I realize th
at this is a theme for my life now. “We’ll send e-vites to the entire mailing list. A global fashion auction. Can you believe it?”

  “Not really. But I’m just learning to have faith again, so bear with me,” Angelica says, revealing her recent struggle.

  “Maybe we both are.” I join the confession.

  Zane and Yvette arrive on time with armloads of equipment.

  “Welcome home, honeymooners!” I greet them with genuine affection. They look so happy that Angelica and I share a glance of envy between us. I’m dating…but they’re…they’re like the perfect couple after knowing each other only a few months.

  “Believe it or not, it feels good to be back, though we had a splendid time. It helped us plan for the future too. With Zane’s business taking off, and our plan to sell mostly online within a year, we’ve considered living overseas for a while.”

  Second look of envy with a sigh added on.

  “Set up over there. Meanwhile, we’ll go out and grab lunch for everyone. It will be a long day.”

  I watch the married team dance about each other with perfect coordination and flow. The singles team, Angelica and I, bump heads and trip on each other’s shoes before we are out the door and on our way to the deli.

  Five hours later, the site is up and running. Sadie and Caitlin have arrived to design the online e-vites and the snail mail versions that will have to be hand delivered. They have taped three different designs up on the wall and we all vote on our favorite.

  Yvette raises her hand as though she is in third grade. “Mari, I spoke with your Golden Horizons webmasters a few times today to get this set up. But I think I will also need them to help me actually reestablish the original list of emails.”

  “Could you send out an email flash? It’d have to be to a real select group of people. We wouldn’t want random invitations sent,” Angelica suggests.