Starting from Square Two (12 page)

He reached for it.

Finally some balls, Gert thought. She could only sit and look on.

“What's her extension?”

“It's 512.”

Dennis held the receiver and punched in the numbers. He looked at Gert. “Why isn't it working?”

Gert took the phone from him, pressed an “8” first, then Missy's extension, and handed it back to him.

“I'm coming in there,” Dennis said into the phone. “I have an early meeting, so we need to talk now.”

Missy came outside immediately. She said, without any emotion, “Gert, come in here. Dennis, I'll be out in a minute.”

Gert walked back into Missy's office.

Missy looked a bit more calm. “Find the envelope before I get back,” she said, sounding almost human. But then she added, “And by the way, if you
did
put it here, go ask the cleaning people if they moved it.”

Then she stomped out.

If
she put it there?

She'd told her she had. What more evidence did Missy need? She'd worked for Missy for four years and should have accrued a bit of trustworthiness by now.

As soon as Dennis and Missy were safely in the elevator, Gert returned to Missy's office, on a sudden hunch, and pulled back the office door. The missing envelope was lying there, on the floor, under some other papers. Missy often threw things behind the door so she'd remember to bring them home with her at night. She kept a pair of boots there, too, and an umbrella. Missy had apparently thrown a bunch of documents there and had not gone back to look.

Gert sighed and brought the FedEx back to her own desk. It was fairly flat. She saw that it was from a law firm. She didn't open it, although she was dying to know what was inside. She imagined it was kinky photos of Missy and the mailboy in the elevators. This didn't cheer her up, though.

Suddenly Gert's phone rang.

She patted it for a second, fearing it was Missy. Finally she picked it up.

“All clear?” Todd asked.

She was thrilled to hear a friendly voice.

“All clear,” Gert said. She relaxed in her chair, lowering her voice to a whisper. She put the FedEx into her drawer, where it would be safe. “Missy just went ballistic on me.”

“She really is a Heckle and Jeckle, isn't she?” Todd asked.

Gert laughed. “Jekyll and Hyde.”

“That's what I meant,” Todd said. “I've been watching too many cartoons. I'm sorry you're having a rough day. You sound really beat.”

“I am,” Gert said. “Completely wiped.”

“Do you want to push our dinner up to tonight? Maybe it would make you feel better.”

Todd sounded a bit seductive this time. It was a different Todd. She liked it. “That sounds
sooo
nice,” she said. “But I thought you weren't getting back till tomorrow.”

“Hold on.” She could hear a horn. Then he got back on. “I'll be in right after dinnertime, but I thought that might be cutting it too close. I'll be a mess and unshowered. But if you're willing to see me a mess and unshowered, I can do it.”

“I'll bet you look cute when you're a mess and unshowered.”

Todd laughed. “I'll let you be the judge,” he said. “Is eight-thirty okay?”

“Sounds good.”

When she hung up, she was hopeful, where a second ago, she'd been down. Now she couldn't imagine how she would be feeling if Todd hadn't just called.

In fact, she couldn't imagine getting through another hour of work without having something to look forward to tonight.

She was glad she didn't have Missy's life. Glad she wasn't in a loveless, miserable marriage. How did women like Missy let that happen? How did men like Dennis let it happen? How did
anyone let it happen? Was it so worth not being alone that you'd spend years with someone you didn't even like?

Perhaps.

She was so excited about dinner that when Missy breezed back in later and then ran out again for a meeting, Gert forgot to tell her she had found the envelope. When Gert left for the weekend, it was still inside Gert's desk.

 

Todd had decided that for their third date, they'd go to the restaurant of a French cooking school. Todd figured this would be a good way to get good food at a reasonable price.

Marc had been simple about food. He liked his burgers and beer and wasn't much for fine dining.

At the restaurant, Todd was seated across from her, wearing a white dress shirt. She liked the way he looked in it. His shoulders looked strong underneath.

“I like eating in French restaurants,” Todd said, opening his napkin. “It's certainly cheaper than going to France.” The restaurant looked to be full of young people who seemed to be out for the same thing: quality eats at restaurant school prices.

A waitress came to take their drink orders. Todd asked what a good wine was for someone who had a rough day. The waitress said, “All of them.” Todd told Gert she should have one, even if he couldn't drink himself. Gert smiled and decided on red wine.

They picked up the dinner menus. Gert noticed that even though the place was staffed by students, it was still pricey. But she decided she wouldn't offer to pay. Todd was swooping in to save her from a miserable day, and she would let him.

She looked at him. He was reading the menu intently. She wondered if Todd ever had trouble at work. It never seemed like it.

“Do you have any enemies?” Gert asked. Then she wondered why it had come out so funny.

Todd laughed. “What? That's a random question. Has some varmint been 'round these parts looking for me?”

“No,” Gert said. “You just seem like such an easygoing person that I can't imagine anyone being mad at you.”

“Well,” Todd said, “I guess if you're a guy, there's always someone who picked a fight with you along the line. There was one time when I was at a frat party and some guy saw me talking to a girl he liked. I didn't even know he liked her. He was drunk, so he tried to pick a fight. And stupid me, I fought back. It's instinct, I guess. He hit me, I hit him, and we both ended up at Student Health.”

“Were you hurt?”

“He got me in the nose,” Todd said. “I still have a scar. The other guy had a bruise on his cheek. The dean told us to stay away from each other. The whole thing was stupid. I think the guy just came there looking for a fight.”

A waiter placed a basket of rolls on the table. Gert noticed that they were shiny. She wondered if they were sweet. Shiny rolls usually were sweet. She'd learned that when she was eight. Her father's friend had opened a diner in Anaheim, and they'd driven down to it. Gert immediately loved the place, because instead of the usual dull dinner rolls, they'd brought out a basket of sweet rolls and warm cinnamon buns. Both varieties were soft and delicious—better, even, than Gert's subsequent burger and fries. Gert's parents told her not to fill up on rolls, but she ate three, and she decided they were the best rolls she'd ever tasted. After they all left, Gert kept agitating for her parents to take her there again, and her father reported this to his friend, but she didn't tell them that the inspiration was just those warm, sweet buns. A few months later, the family finally went back to the diner for Gert's birthday. But when the waitress came, she only brought out a basket of regular dinner rolls. What had happened? Gert was disappointed. She just ate her food in silence. Why did good things have to change so quickly?

Todd looked at her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Come on,” he teased.

“It's boring.”

“I doubt it. Tell me.”

“Well,” she said uncertainly, “the rolls just reminded me of something from childhood.”

“Oh,” he said. “What did they remind you of?”

“When I was eight,” Gert started slowly, “we went to this diner. My father's friend owned it.” She told him the whole story. “So I had chocolate pudding for dessert, but I missed those sweet rolls.”

“Why didn't you ask where they were?”

She shrugged. “I guess I was too shy.”

“It's easy to be like that if you're a kid,” Todd said, sitting back. “That reminds me of this ice-cream place they used to have near Busch Gardens in Virginia. Instead of just dropping a few sprinkles on top of your ice cream, they would pour them throughout the whole cone, under and over and in between, and my brother and I thought that was heaven. We spent half our lives complaining about how most places only put sprinkles on top, and how you could lick them off in a second. So my mom drove us up there once a year. It was about forty-five minutes from us. Then one time we went up there, and they didn't do it. In our case, my brother
did
ask them why, and the guy at the counter said they didn't know that the old owner had done it that way. They'd changed owners and no one had told the new ones.”

The true test of a relationship,
Gert thought,
is if you can tell someone the most boring story in the world about yourself, and they'll still have something to add.

The waitress returned with Gert's wine. Then a waiter with long, scraggly hair took over to recite the specials. But he had a thick French accent, and Gert could barely make out what he was saying. She listened patiently, not wanting Todd to pick up on her ignorance.

“Was it just me,” Todd said after he left, “or did you not understand a word of that?”

Gert laughed. Todd was so honest. She'd never seen him try
to cover up when he didn't know something. “The only thing I understood was ‘strawberry crème torte.'”

“Do you like strawberry crème tortes?” Todd asked.

“When they're available.”

“Well, we'll have to get you one.”

He looked at the menu. “Another thing we have to try is the escargot.”

“Have you ever had it?”

“No,” he said. “That's why we have to try it. Only once, though. I don't intend to get addicted to snails.”

“Why not?” she said. “They're probably easy to hunt for. They can't get away.”

A waitress came and asked if Gert wanted more wine. She looked at Todd, who said, “Yes.” The waitress asked if Todd wanted any, but he passed.

“So,” he said, “you have to answer the same question that
you
asked
me.
”

“What?” Gert asked.

“Do you have any enemies?”

Gert laughed. “Well, I never got into a fight at a frat party.”

“Anywhere else?”

She thought about her condo association. They met each month on the roof deck, and they always seemed to bring up petty complaints about whichever neighbor wasn't there. Gert had been ready to scream the last time it had happened. Marc had gone to the meetings in the past.

She suddenly had a thought. She still hadn't told Todd about Marc. She'd do it after dinner. But she didn't know how he'd respond. She almost wished she'd told him right away. Now it would be strange.

She looked at him. He was younger than her. What did he know of tragedy? It might only scare him off.

She tensed up—just when she was trying to wind down from a tough day.

Todd looked at her quizzically. She tried to remember what he'd asked.

“Oh, enemies. Uh, I guess I don't have any enemies,” she said finally. “Well,” she added hastily, “some girl in third grade pulled my hair.”

“For a reason?”

“Yeah, I'd stepped on her by accident, so she pulled my hair. I cried, and the teacher yelled at her. That's the whole story.”

He was still looking at her. She nervously took a few sips of her wine.

He waited for her to finish drinking, then smiled at her. “So, do you feel better now?”

“I should hope so. It was twenty years ago.”

“No. Not about that girl. About today.”

She actually was starting to, again. She felt like she had finished a long cry and was catching her breath. “I do,” she said. The waitress came and refilled her wineglass. “I know I shouldn't let Missy get to me. But it's the most frustrating thing when your boss yells at you when it's not your fault, and you can't say anything back because you want to keep your job.”

“And then you fantasize that if you didn't really need the job, you would just tell her off,” Todd said, “but if you didn't need the job, you wouldn't
be
there.”

“Exactly,” Gert said. She was glad he understood.

“So how did it end up with the FedEx?”

Gert put her wineglass down. “Oh my God!” she said. “I forgot to tell her!”

“What?”

“I found it when she went to lunch.”

“Where?”

“Behind her door. I meant to tell her. She came back and left again.”

“Well, tell her on Monday,” Todd said.

“She might have needed it for this weekend,” Gert said. “I have to tell her. She'll kill me.”

“No she won't.”

“
Probably
not, but she does things on whims sometimes. And what if she needed it?”

“Do you have her cell number?” Todd asked.

“At work I do, but I can't get in. What am I going to do?”

“Tell her Monday.”

“But I should find a way to tell her
tonight,
” Gert said.

Todd said, “Relax. Don't worry about it.”

Gert felt her voice rising, but she couldn't help it. “I can't not worry!” she said. “I should have told her.”

“But there's nothing you can do about it.”

He smiled.

“I need to try,” Gert said.

She didn't smile back.

“It's the weekend. Relax a little.”

He was still smiling.

“This is important!” Gert said. She felt the back of her neck get hot.

Todd seemed confused.

“Is everything that easy for you?” Gert said. “You think you can just smile and make everything okay?”