I don’t believe in romance, not after Bernie. I thought he was with me, on my side, my champion, wanting what I wanted … but I was wrong.
So, so very wrong.
Not after all those walks by the river, all those small apartments, all those dreams of New York City and all those lawn parties in my own backyard, with all those people I’d known forever.
Made me look foolish.
Daddy always said it wouldn’t end well.
Daddy, as usual, was right.
Today feels far away from that, though … January 2nd.
The scene: My office.
The vibe: Chaos on a plate.
Mildred, our publicist and resident gossip, was flitting office to office, desk to desk, in a most insufferable way, pumping everyone for details about their holiday breaks, who they saw, what they did. Information is her favorite form of currency.
So insufferable was she that, rather than tell her the truth - that I’d spent it alone with a bottle of wine, steamed shrimp, and watching An Affair to Remember for the 47th time - I figured that, once she darkened my door, I’d have a little fun.
“Elyse, dah-ling! Happy new year! Was Santa good to you this year?”
I nodded. “Yes, yes … very good. You?”
She swept her hand dramatically across her chest, drawing attention to a large emerald pendant around her neck.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she said. “Frank had a splendid year. The kiddies will be dazzled by this beautiful piece of heaven.”
The kiddies … not even a day into the new year and Mildred finds a way to be condescending to our clientele, most of whom are young adults and families in need of a leg up. Surely, seeing an emerald will put food on their table and solve their problems.
“So, Elyse, were you able to see the girls?”
I nodded. “Yes, yes I did, so since only one of them eats meat, we decided to run off to Bermuda for a week, sip mai tais and beer, and swim until the sun set.”
Mildred once again clasped her bosom.
“Oh Elyse … well, I never would have guessed. You don’t look … tan.”
I felt a warmth trickle up through my heart and into the corner of my mouth as I smiled at her.
“Yeah, the girls were out in the sun. I opted out.”
She looked like she’d hit the mother lode, her eyes bugging out, visibly twisting internally to find someone - anyone - to tell.
If I do nothing else on this day, I thought, I will have won.
Suddenly Mildred doubled back. “Oh … Elyse, oh, before I forget …”
She poked her head in through my office door and held the frame - one foot in, one foot out.
“You need to meet Carson Sigmund at some point. He has a few slots today, but is fairly booked, so tomorrow may be better.”
“Who is Carson Sigmund?”
Just then, a large blonde-haired man, youngish but not too young, appeared behind Mildred.
“I am.”
He extended his hand. “Carson Sigmund … I’m an entrepreneur.”
“Elyse … Hughes …”
I extended my hand. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to say “Rossie.”
His handshake was firm, but inviting, and his skin was the softest I’d ever felt.
“Yes,” he said. “And how do you fit in here?”
“I’m a case worker. I focus primarily on women’s issues primarily, but I’m certainly not in charge here. Did you speak to Gretchen, our director?”
He nodded while pulling a piece of gum out of his pocket, unwrapping it, then shoving it into his mouth.
Suave.
“Yeah, but I like to know everything I can about every investment I make, and I’m looking forward to making one here. Do you … have time for a coffee later, or maybe dinner?”
Still clinging to the doorframe, I swear all Mildred needed was popcorn and a theater seat and she’d have been set for hours.
“Dinner … really. Well, dinner would be fine. Uh … I’ll have to check my book.”
I looked at Mildred, hoping for a rescue of some sort. Instead, I got a wink.
“I’m sure you’ll find the time, Sweetheart.”
—