Once Upon Another Time (6 page)

I’m just
saying.

Fendworth tossed a
file folder on the granite-top reception counter.  I had enough on my mind
without having to deal with my abrupt exit from the arbitration hearing, so I
waited in the elevator.  His back was to me as he spoke to Kristi, a temp
receptionist seated at the desk behind the counter.  She was of medium height,
bone-thin, and so pale that she made practitioners of the “Goth” lifestyle seem
tanned and toned by comparison.

As Fendworth
retreated down the hallway, I blocked the closing of the elevator door with my
arm, as it came within inches of closing on my ankle.  I skirted past the
receptionist, while keeping a good distance behind Fendworth as I followed
behind him down the hallway.  It was crazy to think I was hurrying back to the
boardroom in hopes of rendezvousing with Matt.  Not to mention trying to communicate
with a ghost without some kind of instruction manual was going to be challenging
at best. 

Fendworth stopped
short and walked into Neil Masters’ office. 

“Great!”  I
muttered, while stopping in front of the glass-walled office of Corey Sheldon,
a twenty-eight-year-old dweeb with fiery-colored tightly curled, puffy hair that
resembled hoodoo headgear. 

The offices were all
similar with high ceilings, large windows making them light and airy, each with
contemporary mahogany furnishings.  The front wall of each office constructed
of glass, made me feel as if I were on display whether seated at my desk, or
breezing down the corridor.  The only place four solid walls existed was the
conference room for privacy reasons.

Sheldon glanced at
me while talking on his cell phone.  He had no qualms of letting people know he
called his mother promptly each day at the same time to schedule weekly game
nights with her.

Buying time while
waiting for Fendworth to exit Masters’ office, I pretended to check the e-mails
on my phone. 
To hell with it!
  I marched down the hall and could see
the door was open to Masters’ office as I approached.  The glass wall gave full
view of Masters loosening the knot in his tie.  “I won’t be the fall guy for
this,” he said.

He was either
crazy or fearless, maybe both.  He was one of those guys you didn’t know
whether to love or loathe.  Chestnut hair, hazel eyes, charming, and talented
he was like the bullfighter of courtroom drama and the iconic
bad boy
. 
His womanizing had caused his girlfriend, a beautiful runway model with an
angel-like personality, to threaten that she’d stick her head in a gas oven. 
Outwardly, they were both beautiful, but integrity-wise, they were complete
opposites.  It was like pairing a Rococo table with one of those white plastic
patio chairs.

Fendworth pointed a
stubby finger in Masters’ face.  “Neil, this is what you are going to do…”  His
voice that always sounded as if he had phlegm stuck in his throat, had trailed
off. 

I nonchalantly
walked by and the closer I got to the boardroom, the sillier I felt.  It wasn’t
every day that a person sneaks around the office searching for their dead
spouse. 

I walked into the
boardroom and stood at the doorway scanning the ceiling. 
Ghosts do float,
right?
  However, ghosts generally haunt Irish castles, pubs, and ships at
sea and cemeteries and old vacant mansions, hundred-year-old brothels, but an
office filled with lawyers in broad daylight?  It didn’t make sense.  Not that
seeing Matt made any sense, but him appearing to me at home seemed more
natural, if you could categorize seeing a ghost in any setting as being
natural
.
 I peeked behind both solid wood doors before walking over to the wall of
windows. 

Looking down over
the city made me think of all the places Matt and I had frequented.  Our busy
schedules prompted us to create “date night,” a night that would take
precedence over all or any work catastrophes.  Whether steel girders were crumbling
at the construction site of one of Matt’s brilliant architecturally designed
buildings or if I had a client whose multi-million-dollar lawsuit was at stake,
we made a pact that above all else date nights were sacred. 

As the clouds
drifted placidly in the sky, I turned to glance around the room one last time,
disappointed that there was no trace of Matt.  I walked down the hall toward my
office, bewildered, while reminiscing about our old haunts.  Not being able to
step foot in any of those places again.  

“Aubrey, there you
are,” said Ashley as she popped out from an alcove alongside my office where we
keep the file cabinets.  Barely twenty-four, her personality shimmered as if
she’d been fed a steady diet of crushed diamonds and pearls.  She was dressed chicly
in a short-skirted ice blue suit that matched the color of her eyes.  Her silky
hair, the color of black sable, circled down her back.

“Yes, here I am,”
I said.  Anyone important call for me?”

“A few clients, nothing
urgent.  Oh, and Alison from the Historical Society called about that
fundraiser you’re in charge of.  I asked if she wanted to leave you a
voicemail, but she flatly refused.”

 “Doesn’t surprise
me,” I said, while scooping up my mail from Ashley’s desk.  “Anyone who owns a yacht
the size of New Jersey like she and Skip, that investment tycoon husband of
hers, need instant gratification.  Leaving a message is simply a bother.” 

Without missing a
step, I continued walking and shuffling through the stack of mail, while
entering my office.  I looked up to glance around the room.  Everything was in
its place.  The chrome trim on the black leather chairs gleamed, my desk
spotless, the laptop positioned dead center, a photo of my son Nicholas to the
right, positioned at a perfect 90-degree angle.  I nudged the pyramid-shaped
Rhode Island Trial Lawyers Association award with my index finger.  “That’s
better,” I mumbled as I lined up one side with the square-shaped pencil
holder.  Family pictures and awards from community volunteer associations
shared space with legal books and trade periodicals on the shelving unit.  Laid
out neatly to one side on the long L-shaped portion of my desk, were four
perfectly spaced file folders of cases I was currently working on.

I placed the
handful of mail in my inbox, when a square flash of neon orange caught my eye. 
Stuck to my computer screen was a sticky note.  I sat down at my desk and
stared at it.

SEE ME--H. F.

I ripped the note
from my computer and stuck it to my desk.  My reflection in the glass-framed
Disneyworld photo of Nicholas with Mickey looked back at me. 
Don’t respond
to Fendworth or you’ll be sorry
, it seemed to imply.

I glanced up just
as Laura sauntered into my office.  She closed the door behind her and slid
into the black leather chair across from my desk.

“Isn’t David to
die for?” she said, while crossing her toned, slender legs.    

It suddenly occurred to me that
last night in my inebriated state I might have said something about my mind
reading ability or paranormal experiences.

 “Yes, David is
very handsome.  However, I don’t ever recall you going out with any dogs. 
Since we’re on the subject of last night, how big a fool did I make of myself?” 

“You really want
to know?”  Laura laughed.

“Yes, it would be
helpful.  This way I can go back and tell my therapist about ‘Eve’ my duel
personality who’s been to blame for ruining my relationships.”

“Oh, you weren’t
that bad.”

“Oh, good,” I said
with great relief, and then eyed Laura suspiciously.  “It’s silly,” I said with
a cavalier sound in my voice, “but I thought I remembered telling everyone
something about waiters placing thoughts in my head.”

“Well, actually,”
Laura stammered, “what you told us was that you could probably kill thousands
of people with your thoughts.”

“My God,” I
groaned and sunk back in my chair with a hand to my forehead.

“It doesn’t
matter, Jack thought you were cute.” 

I straightened up
and leaned over my desk, while staring at her incredulously.  “How could he
possibly think that after I’d acted like a complete idiot?”

“Well, at first, I
had no idea what was wrong with you, until after you got sick--and well, I
already told you about that part.  Anyway, you told me you took your
anti-anxiety medicine.  It made sense you’d be loopy with the amount of alcohol
you mixed it with.  I figured you were having one of your panic attacks because
of first-date-jitters with Jack.  So after explaining the situation to Jack, he
understood your unusual behavior and told me he was flattered that someone as
beautiful as you could actually be nervous about going out with someone like
him.  I think he’s going to give you a call.  He asked for your phone number.”

“But that wasn’t
the reason I took the…” 
Just shut up, she doesn’t need to know why you took
the medicine.
 
Besides, it’s not like you can tell her about Matt.
 
You
already tried that once.

“What was that you
were saying?” asked Laura.

“It was nothing. 
So, on our drive to the restaurant last night, you mentioned something about a
Saturday night date you had with David, but Jack interrupted and you got off
track?”

 “Oh, yeah, two
dates in a row,” she said while edging forward in her seat.  “He has this
gorgeous new black Porsche, but I was so totally mesmerized by him I barely
noticed the car I was riding in until we…”  

I half listened to Laura, as I
glared at the neon orange sticky note that seemed to scream YOU’RE FIRED! 
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.  I really do need a long vacation.  Besides, I’d
get a hefty severance and be able to spend quality time with my son.  I could
trim the hips, tighten the tummy with one of those Malibu Pilate chairs, upload
apps to my phone and learn how to set up a Twitter account.

“So, what do you think?” asked Laura,
while giggling.

I tore my eyes away from the
note.  “Um, what do I think about what, that you had dinner at Hemenway’s or
that you went to David’s penthouse?”  I asked indifferently.

“What made you say that?”

My eyebrows shot up.  “I’m
Sorry.  I’ve been a little preoccupied.  I apologize.  Only caught a couple of
words of what you said.”

“I didn’t mention anything about
dinner at Hemenway’s and that David took me to his penthouse.  I was still
talking about the car, so how did you know the rest of what I was going to say?”

I blinked and feigned sudden
interest in my computer screen saver.  Staring blankly at the three palm trees
on the tiny island surrounded by blue waters I reminded myself that I really had
to start getting used to my new ability to hear what people are thinking. 
Although, I would have preferred to think I was going completely insane.

“I know you love
that restaurant,” I said, as my eyes gazed across the top of my desk and back
up at Laura.  “As for guessing you went to David’s penthouse?  Well, it was
inevitable he’d finally bring you there.”  I sucked in a deep breath. 

“I suppose,” she
said.  Thanks for wrecking my excitement of telling you about that milestone in
our relationship.  Finally making it to his penthouse was
huge
.”

“Sorry I ruined
it.  So tell me, was going to his penthouse everything you dreamed it would
be?”  I asked gamely.

She uncrossed her
legs and leaned forward in her chair.  “Yeah, like everything and so much more,”
she said with a sly smile.  Laura had the voice and aloofness of Samantha Jones
and the stiletto fetish of Carrie Bradshaw.  All of which seemed to translate
into focused confidence, while I was more the Miranda Hobbes type.

“But enough about
me, I’ll tell you the rest later when I have more time,” said Laura as she slid
back in her seat.  Her face took on a serious expression.  “Let’s talk about
you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.  Throughout
the entire three-hour arbitration hearing, I detected that
look
in your
eyes.”

“Look?”

“When are you
going to stop obsessing over Matt?”

When I can
finally talk to him and get everything straightened out about his accident.

“Granted, I’ve
never lost a husband, through death, that is,” Laura said sharply.  “Although
Robert did almost drive me to killing him,” she mumbled.

She cleared her
throat.  “Anyway, I’ve tried to understand the hurt you went through because of
Matt’s unexpected death, but it’s been years--
many
years.  It worries me
when you take on this bleak, depressed state of mind every year when the
anniversary of his death rolls around.  You’ve got to stop torturing yourself,
it’s not healthy.”

If she only
knew.
 

I peered numbly at
the yellow number two pencils in the holder on my desk.  One was uneven with
the rest so I pulled it out of the holder.  “Laura, I never claimed to be a
poster child for perfect mental health, but it’s not for lack of trying.”  I
jabbed the pencil into the electric sharpener.  “I’ve tried to find a good
therapist, but none of them seem to be able to relate to me.”  My voice
quavered, while I kept my eyes riveted on the sharp point of the now even-sized
pencil and placed it back into the metal holder. 

All the years I
lived with the guilt of thinking I’d caused Matt’s death, I never told anyone.  I
kept it to myself mainly because I didn’t believe in pity parties, not to
mention I didn’t have all the facts.   

“There comes a
point in everyone’s life,” Laura hissed under her breath, “when a person has to
step up and take charge of their own destiny.”

My eyes shot up
from the pencils to give Laura an icy stare.  “Excuse me, but I resent your
accusation of me not being in charge of my life.”