Waltzing at Midnight (29 page)

This company will employ at least a hundred people, people like yourselves who ought to be able to work in the community where you grew up and went to school. We want to be sure that when you graduate from this school or from a four-year university, you’ll have a good job waiting. That hasn’t been the case for a long time. New, high-tech industry hasn’t been coming here. I see that changing, right now, right before our eyes.”

I concluded by thanking them for their attention and opening the floor for questions. Now I was going to have to wing it. Rosie, I noticed, had a huge Cheshire Cat grin on her face.

“Ms. Davis,” asked a young man, “does this school play a part in your plans?”

“Yes, very much so. We’ve been working closely with the college to make sure that educational programs are in place to support the type of businesses we’re attracting. We don’t want 215

to be teaching our students skills that aren’t needed by the community, so, yes, I’ve been giving information to the school to help it shape its curriculum. One new class which is a direct result of our cooperative efforts is computer graphic design, which will be offered in the business department for the fall semester.

Graphic design is a skill much in demand in the advertising industry and, as in practically every other discipline, there’s been a radical shift toward total digitization in recent years.” I paused, glanced at Rosie, then said, “You see, we believe very strongly that no part of our community can operate independently. What we’re trying to do is draw all factions together so that the right kind of progress will happen. The government has to respond to the needs of business, and business has to participate in the community, and the schools must evolve to support the entire structure. It’s a very simple idea, and certainly not new.”

The next question came from a woman. “Bringing new business to the area is commendable and exciting, but so many businesses are struggling, shutting their doors. Is your organization involved in any way in preventing this trend?”

“I’m glad you brought that up,” I said. “We
are
involved in that.” I explained about the Chevrolet dealership that was still operating due to our intervention, and about another business we were helping to resolve a labor dispute. “This isn’t always possible,” I said, “but we’re dedicated to making the attempt. This is hard work. It’s harder than most people realize just to get local government and businesses to talk to one another. Cooperation is a new approach for them.”

I took about a half dozen questions, and then, running over the time I’d been allotted, brought it to a close. They clapped.

Loudly. It was a rush. I stepped off the stage to the side of the room where Rosie greeted me with a rather absurd handshake.

Well, it was appropriate for the setting.

“You’re marvelous,” she said. “I can’t get over it. Once you got going, you were just incredible. You sounded like you’d been doing this all your life.”

Yes, that’s the way so many new things felt these days, like I’d 216

been doing them all my life. It was like I was remembering who I was after having been an amnesiac for twenty years.

Mr. Winkle, the instructor who had arranged the talk, approached and shook my hand. “Quite inspirational, Jean. I’m glad I asked you in. Can I take you to lunch? I’d like to ask you a few questions myself. Rosie, will you join us?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you later, Jean.” She winked and took off.

Suddenly Amy was there, her arms flung around me. “Oh, Mom, you were really good up there. I was so scared you were gonna freeze or flop or sound like a ditz. But you didn’t.”

I laughed. “What an endorsement.”

Mr. Winkle seemed amused. I introduced him to Amy and the three of us went to Risso’s for lunch.

When Rosie called me that evening, I was still high.

“I’m so happy for you, Jean,” she said.

“I’m sure some of it sounded familiar to you.”

“Yes. Now where did I hear this stuff about business and government cooperating before?”

“Okay, so I stole your platform.”

“It’s in the public domain. I want to see you do more of this sort of thing, out in the public eye, not just behind the doors of people’s offices. It’s good PR for the Partnership and for the city.

I’m really proud of you, you know.”

Yes, I knew. And that was probably why I started planning courses for the fall semester which would put me on track toward an MBA.

I was already feeling pretty good about myself when the most extraordinarily uplifting day occurred that same week. The afternoon that Dr. Chandra Patel walked into my office, I didn’t immediately recognize her because she was wearing a white lab coat and slacks and I had only seen her before in elaborate costumes. But as soon as she smiled at me, I knew who she was.

“Jean,” she said warmly, “I’ve come to ask you a favor.”

I bolted from my chair and stepped toward her, taking her extended hand, which, it seemed to me, she expected me to kiss 21

rather than shake. So it ended up being a limp grasp instead. I don’t know if it was the idea of her money or her regal manner, enhanced by the British accent, that intimidated me, but I was never relaxed in her company. I knew my voice sounded unnatural as I said, “Dr. Patel, welcome. Have a seat.”

“No, no,” she said, waving the air. “I’m just here for a moment.

It’s my lunch hour.”

“Well, what can I do for you?”

“My tax man is after me for receipts. I know you sent me a beautiful package after the election, but I’m hopeless with paperwork. Everything gets lost. I should have sent it on right away, but I didn’t. So I’m hoping you can lay your hands on that again for me and send it directly to my accountant.” She handed me a business card. “This is his card. A fax will be sufficient. He’s expecting it.”

“Yes, no problem. I know where the file is.”

“I know it isn’t your job anymore, being Rosalind’s campaign manager, but I also knew that you were my best chance for the information. You’re so efficient and I’m so disorganized. Money matters!” She made a sputtering sound to indicate that money matters were of no interest to her, which I was certain was not even a little bit true.

“You didn’t have to come over for this,” I said. “You could have just called.”

“Yes, I know. But I wanted to see you in person.” She looked directly at me and smiled slyly, her dark eyes bright and expressive. I watched her gaze slide down from my eyes to pass over the length of my body. Oh, my God, I thought, suddenly grasping her unspoken message. When our eyes met again, she knew that the message had been received.

“I heard you left your husband,” she said simply. “Are you seeing anyone?”

My tongue felt like it was nailed to the inside of my mouth.

When I finally coaxed it to move, my voice came out at an oddly high pitch, almost a squeak. “Yes, I am.” Her expression turned into a pout, an exaggerated look of disappointment. “Rosie,” I 21

said, “I’m seeing Rosie.”

She clapped her hands together and shook her head. “Oh, that woman is always one step ahead of me. If it was anyone else, Jean, I’d take you from her without a qualm.”

Well, I thought, I might have something to say about that.

“But Rosalind is my dear friend, as you know.” Dr. Patel took another business card from her jacket pocket, reached over and tucked it into the waistband of my pants with deliberate slowness.

“File this some place where you won’t lose track of it. This has my personal number on it. If you should ever find yourself not seeing Rosalind, please call me.”

Her expression was seductive as she turned and left the office.

I stood dumbly where I was for a couple of minutes, watching the door. And then I looked at the card at my waist and took it between my fingers. Eventually, I ended up back in my chair, but it was quite a while before I could get back to opening the mail, which is what I had been doing before this most bizarre incident occurred. And even when I got back to it, my fingers were stupid, fumbling to open an envelope with a foreign stamp. Noticing the return address and the company logo on the letter inside, though, abruptly broke the spell I was under.

The letter was from the French company I had been trying to persuade to set up shop in Weberstown. Written in English, it was an invitation to come to Paris to tour the parent company and to discuss the details of our proposal in person. The invitation was for myself and anyone I felt would be qualified to contribute to the discussion. Thrilled, I immediately called Rosie and read the letter to her over the phone.

“They’re serious,” she said. “This is going to be a big one for you, Jean. Who’s going?”

“I am,” I said triumphantly. “I’m going to Paris! It’s my deal, so I’m going.”

Rosie laughed. “Well, yes, of course you are. I’m glad to hear you say it. I meant, who are you taking along? You’ll need some city official, probably.”

“Oh, sure.”

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“Think of it, Jean, Paris! Oh, how fantastic for you! And you can bill the whole thing to us. Drinking wine like water, walking down the Champs Élysées, sipping an aperitif at La Tour d’Argent.”

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine myself making business deals in Paris. “Rosie,” I said, “come with me. Of course you have to.” “In what capacity?”

“Advertising agent. Director of the Partnership. My special friend.” I was getting hyped. “You could tell them about advertising their product, about the U.S. market, consumer tastes, all that jazz. And you speak French! Come, please.”

“It will depend on when it is.”

“You set the date,” I countered. “Oh, come with me, Rosie.

Imagine the two of us in Paris, walking arm in arm down the Champs Élysées, drinking wine like water. Without you, what kind of romantic holiday would it be?”

“A business trip,” she said bluntly. Then she laughed. “Okay, love, I’ll see if I can swing it.”

We talked for a few minutes about the delights of Paris before I remembered Dr. Patel’s visit. “Oh, Rosie,” I said, “you won’t believe who came to see me earlier. This has been a crazy day!”

I told her about the visit, in detail.

“Why that sneaky thing,” Rosie said. “I had no idea she had even noticed you.”

“Me neither,” I said, astonished all over again.

“Well, how did that feel, Jean?”

“Thrilling! Sorry, Rosie, but I can’t help it. I’ve never had a woman make a pass at me before.”

“It’s okay to be thrilled, especially when it’s such an enchanting, accomplished woman. Just so long as you turned her down.”

“Of course.”

“Quite a day you’ve had,” she said. “Quite a life you’re forging for yourself, actually. I have to admit that I’m sort of envious.

Not because of Chandra, but because of the excitement of all of these new things, all the possibilities.”

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“No need to be envious, Rosie. You’re right here with me.”

“Yes, and it’s a joy to observe, believe me, but it’s happening to you. Well, you’re making it happen. That’s the thing, really.

Let’s go out tonight to celebrate. We can talk about where we’ll go in Paris.”

“Oh, Rosie,” I said, “I can’t go out with you tonight. Tyler and I are going to a gay and lesbian film festival in the East Bay.”

“No problem,” Rosie said. “We’ll celebrate tomorrow or the next day, whenever we can manage to get together. I’m glad you and Tyler are enjoying one another’s company so much.”

After Rosie consulted her schedule, I arranged the meeting with the French CEO for May 28 and 29. My birthday, my forty-first birthday, was May 27, the day after our scheduled arrival.

We were going to be in Paris on my birthday. Doesn’t get much better than that, I thought.

I asked Harry Stone of the labor relations board to come too, and he agreed. The three of us would be the team. We would be gone a week, which would leave us free from business for at least four days, free to explore Paris. Amy agreed to take care of the horses and cats. She wanted to go with us, of course.

“Next time,” I told her, as parents do, but this was for real because I was beginning to understand that there would be a next time, that there would be a lot of adventure ahead. Even so, this first trip to Europe was a pretty big deal to me, and I was so glad Rosie was coming too. Can all of this really be happening, I wondered. When Faye handed me an envelope with boarding passes, Métro pass and itinerary, I knew it was for real. May 25, it said, SFO to CDG, next day arrival.

“You’re going to love it,” Faye said. “I stuck a little wallet card in there with a Métro map on it. That’s how you’ll be traveling around the city. Good luck with that business deal, by the way.”

“Thanks, Faye,” I said, tucking the envelope into my bag.

“Could you ever have imagined that I would be going to Paris to broker a deal like this?”

Faye shook her head. “No, definitely not. Jean. You’ve been nothing but surprises to me lately.” She stood and gazed at me 221

thoughtfully. “It’s taking some getting used to, and not just the idea of you and Rosie either, which is plenty to get used to all by itself.” Faye came out from behind her desk and gave me a warm hug. “I want you to know that I’m happy for you,” she said.

“And you should be happy for me too.” She held out her hand to display a showy solitaire diamond on her ring finger which I had somehow overlooked while she was making my reservations.

“Faye, you’re engaged?”

She nodded. “You’re not the only one making big changes.”

I hugged her again. “Yes, of course I’m happy for you!”

“Let me walk you back to your office,” Faye said excitedly.

“We can talk about my wedding. I want you to be my maid of honor, of course. I’m thinking October.” She locked her office behind us as we emerged onto the sidewalk. “Or, maybe, if you and Rosie are ready, we can make it a double wedding or a double commitment ceremony, or whatever you call it! How about that, Jean? Just like we planned when we were sixteen, remember?”