Reunion for the First Time (17 page)

With mouse brown hair, immovable in a pageboy cut and a middle-aged body given to plumpness, she wasn’t what many people would consider beautiful, but Jack did. The smile that animated her face and emanated warmth toward anyone who stood before her desk made her pretty. She lit the lounge with welcome. Jack always considered her one of the firm’s biggest assets.

“Hey, Eileen. You look lovely, as usual. Big meeting at lunch. Wish me luck.”

“Always, sir. Is the meeting here? Should I prepare the conference room?”

“Nope, at The Metropolitan Club over lunch. They’re either giving me great news or letting me down with a whole lot of class.”

“Well, good luck again. But I am sure you will not need it sir. I have complete confidence in your design.”

The phone console, the sole item on her desk, bleeped, and she turned efficiently back to her work.

Jack continued down the hall to his office, greeting other members of the firm as he made slow progress.

He settled into his well-worn leather, swivel chair with roller wheels. Even while seated, he didn’t like to stay in one spot for long. Rows of bookshelves atop credenzas lined the entire wall behind him and half walls on either side of him. His desk was molded acrylic, a simple rectangle with narrow legs that allowed him latitude to move underneath it and handle plans and blueprints on its large work surface. He only kept a couple of chairs in front of his desk, as he would rather confer with his staff in the conference room. This private space, which he kept pristine and uncluttered, freed him to create without distraction.

A black telephone, the only item on Jack’s desk except for a small, framed photograph of him and Charlie, distracted him now. Picking up the handset, his fingers hovered over the numbers still wanting to hear Beth’s voice.

Wrestling with the impulse, he didn’t want to give her the wrong idea and wasn’t sure what this compulsion was about.
Better to leave her alone until he could get a handle on these odd feelings.

Work. Get focused.

Jack rolled his chair to a side credenza, grabbed a banded roll of paper and scooted back to mid-desk. He worked on fine-tuning the specs for the GC Building until it was time to head over to the Sears Tower for his lunch appointment.

Security in the Sears building lobby had been tight ever since 9/11. Glad he’d left enough time to go through the mandatory process of showing his driver’s license at the main security desk, badge issuance, pocket emptying and metal detector screening, he accessed the elevator bank that would whiz him to the private club on the upper floors of the building.

Hushed power lunches and dizzying views in the restaurant epitomized The Metropolitan Club. Although on time, everyone else had apparently arrived since only one open seat remained at the large table of businessmen. Judging from the apparent joviality of the group, they were a drink or two ahead of him. He walked around the table, shook hands and bantered with each of the men, before he took the vacant seat.

“You’ll be needing a drink, Jack.” One of the men called a waiter over.

When Jack had a Guinness delivered to him, he followed the lead of all the men at the table and raised his glass.

“You’ve got the Global Commerce Building, Jack. Congratulations.”

He savored the best beer he ever drank having beat Wally to win the business .

****

Elated as he pushed through the doors of Butterfly Books to meet with Charlie, Pop was on Jack’s mind. He wore his grandfather’s cuff links, symbolically taking Pop with him to the meeting, and somehow, he believed helping maneuver its positive outcome. Normally, he didn’t put stock into superstition, but this time he needed any help he could get.

Here in Charlie’s offices, Pop lived on, too. Their grandfather had bankrolled the publishing company for Charlie. Pop was one hell of a man, even if he had sired their mother. Jack, a familiar visitor, didn’t need the receptionist to clear him into the inner offices. Charlie wasn’t at his desk, so Jack wandered around the suite searching for him snagging a cup of coffee as he passed through the break room.

He found Charlie in one of the many conference rooms leaning over the long, maple table, book proofs lined around its perimeter.

Jack joined Charlie in inspecting the proofs. “Wow. These are great. I’m blown away. Beth does phenomenal work, Charlie. Really outstanding.”

“Beth?”

Jack rolled a chair back and sat. “Just a nickname that seemed to fit when I first met her. It stuck. She looks like a Beth to me.”

“What exactly does a Beth look like?” Charlie sat next to him.

“You know wholesome, innocent, nothing like a Gina.” He laughed when Charlie rolled his eyes.

“We both know what a Gina looks like. All body. You sure can pick them Jack.”

“You can say that again. Did you know she’s a Packer fan?”

“Gina?” Charlie’s brow creased.

“No Beth.” And she sure knows how to wear a Packer’s T-shirt.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s a Green Bay fanatic. Mari and I brought her back a cheese-head hat when we went to a game at Lambeau Field. She loved it. Drove us crazy wearing it every time we all watched football together.”

“Good God. I’m surprised she didn’t wear it when we watched the Bears/Packers game together.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “You watched the Bears/Packers game together?”

“Yeah, at her place, complete with a comfort food buffet. She sure can cook.” Jack picked up the night shot of the JPH Building. “Wow. Look at this. How the hell did she get this shot? She must have been hanging from a helicopter.”

“Actually she was. She was coming back from the train wreck in Kentucky.” Charlie took the photo out of Jack’s hand. “Let’s get back to football at Lizzie’s house. When was this?”

“A few weeks ago.” Jack shook his head thinking about Beth hanging out of a plane over a conflagration. “She was flying over that chemical fire in a helicopter? More than a dozen train cars ignited. She’s got a lot of courage.”

****

Charlie thought about the years he’d known Lizzie. She had been fearless in Guatemala. Lizzie and Mari went into areas where there was guerilla warfare to rescue children. Lizzie was in Sarajevo and the Middle East during the Gulf War while bullets flew, traveled in tanks in Iraq. She faced a world without parents as a young adult and stood up to him when he tried to withdraw from a world without Mari.

“She has more courage than you and me put together. She’s gone through a lot. It’s amazing she’s not bitter. Lizzie is the original softie. Even with all the assignments, she still manages to dedicate her free time to Mari’s orphanage. Her pictures have raised more money than any other fundraising.”

Jack looked at the photo of the JPH Building again, gestured at others on the table. “She takes the most astounding pictures. I think she was drawn to the ‘necklaces’ on the top of the buildings. She loves sparkly lights. Have you ever been to
Zoolights
at Lincoln Park Zoo? Beth took me to see them Sunday night. Blew me away.”

I’ll be damned.
“You’ve been seeing Lizzie?”

“Let’s look at the rest of these proofs.”

“Not so fast. Are you and Lizzie dating each other?”

“No.” Jack put the proof down and focused on the next image. “I lost a bet and took her to Lou’s for pizza. Then we met the next day at church, by chance. Whatever. When does the book come out?”

“I want to run this by Lizzie, too, but I was thinking of a book launch party on New Year’s Eve.” Charlie wasn’t about to let this go. “What’s going on with you and Lizzie?”

“Nothing. She isn’t interested in me, either, so it’s mutual. She still has the hots for Prescott,” Jack sneered. “I do not see what she sees in that jackass. I played my part well enough to make Wally jealous.”

Charlie studied Jack, read his body language detecting the “tells” that he was skirting the whole truth.

Doesn’t look me in the eye, a slight raise of his shoulders
.
Oh he’s interested all right.

“Hey, I forgot to tell you. I beat Prescott out again. I got the GC Building contract.”

Charlie’s head spun with Jack’s quicksilver change of subject, but he returned Jack’s high five. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”

For now, he’d let the subject of Jack and Lizzie go. Maybe. “I’m thinking about inviting Lizzie to dinner on Thanksgiving at Grandma Viv’s. She showed me I have a lot to be thankful for this year, and Grandma mentioned she would be welcome. Do you have a problem with her being at dinner?”

Jack tugged at his shirt collar. “No. Doesn’t affect me either way. Do what you want.”

“Think I will.” Color crept up Jack’s neck.

“So, anyway,” Charlie continued, on thin ice with his brother. “I have an idea for the launch party. What do you say to our holding it at JPH? The book is all about your buildings. It would be the perfect venue.”

“Sure. Fine. Want anybody in my shop involved with the arrangements?”

“Maybe with setting up the room. We’ll take care of the guest list, invitations and arrangements for the party here at my office. All you have to do is show up.”

“If you need any extra help just give Eileen a call. She’ll organize it for you.”

Jack stood and moved along the edge of the table until he reached the end of the row of proofs.

“So. Lizzie approved the proofs. Do I have your approval?” Charlie put a form in front of Jack for his signature.

“Of course, they’re great.” Jack scribbled his name on the paper under Lizzie’s signature and shuffled his feet.

Charlie recognized that body language, too. “Don’t bolt on me yet. We have to go over the food options for the ball. I was looking it over before you arrived. Why does everything have a special sauce and mushrooms? Let’s go to my office and look at the menu.”

“Okay.” Jack took the lead out of the conference room. “Steak and potatoes sound good to me.”

Chapter Fifteen

The buttery, cinnamon-spice smell of two freshly baked pumpkin breads cooling on a wire rack, enticed Lizzie. She stood at her stove, comfortable in an oversized pair of flannel pajamas, and stirred a spoon in a pot of chocolate milk to enjoy while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on TV.

This was the first year in a long time she had been home for Thanksgiving. She had run away from the holiday every year since her parents died, starting with her years in Guatemala where she could ignore the non-existent holiday there with ease.

For the past few years, Kay had invited her to their family celebration, an invitation that she had always declined due to assignment conflicts. Sometimes she had legitimate work conflicts, and sometimes she had manipulated the truth a bit.

An assignment began tomorrow with a reporter from NewsWorld Magazine to return to Niger. Lizzie had hoped to leave yesterday, but the reporter wanted to be home with his children. Couldn’t blame him, but it left her home alone with her memories.

Kay’s mom had called her the week before to extend this year’s invitation. Again, she fibbed her way out of accepting it, and claimed she would be on a plane headed for Africa. She’d kept the specifics about her departure date vague.

As much as she loved Kay, she had never wanted a substitute family on this day of the year. She might consider next year when the twins celebrate their first Thanksgiving.

Charlie’s call yesterday had her racking up more fibs. He’d asked her to join him, Jack, their father and grandmother at his Thanksgiving table deciding to be a host instead of letting his grandmother cook for the family. Thrilled that Charlie felt strong enough to carry on Mari’s holiday tradition, she had almost accepted, especially when he had remarked, “It might be fun for you because Jack will be here.”

Odd that Charlie let that last sentence hang.
Jack.
That slow smile, his scorching kisses snuck up on her in daydreams and during her vulnerable nights. But as sisterly as she was with Charlie, there was no way she wanted to be Jack’s little sister at the holiday table. Jack, after all, hadn’t extended the invitation.

On this day of gratitude, she was thankful she’d met Jack. He made her reconsider her opinions of men, in general. He made her forget Wallace almost entirely. But why did he shy away from commitment? What deep dark secrets did he keep locked inside?

She could handle celebrating Thanksgiving alone, instead of pretending it away. Her mother’s treasured recipe for the bread that spiced the air and made her stomach grumble had been dusted off and put to use. A turkey potpie would suffice for the main meal. She’d brave watching the parade, a first since she’d lost her parents. They’d taken her to watch the floats and the gigantic balloons several times as a child. Those happy memories tore her apart.

She had spent the last months telling Charlie to get on with his life and instead of avoiding his traditions with Mari he should treasure them to keep her memory alive. So she’d practice what she preached to Charlie, watch the parade and enjoy one of her mother’s Thanksgiving recipes.

Hot chocolate poured and a slice of bread on a plate, she settled in front of the TV. Marty secured the spot next to the coffee table, vigilant for any runaway crumbs.

The phone rang several times before she registered the need to get up and answer it.

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Darla. Who? He is?” She looked down at her flannels in dismay. “Would you mind sending him up? Great. Thanks.”

Damn it. Wallace was here?

Lizzie opened the door as soon as she heard the elevator bell. He walked toward her dragging his feet slightly as if hesitant. He stopped a few feet in front of her open door.

Lizzie stood in the center of the doorframe, blocking it. “Wallace you really should have called first.”

“I was walking around the city. Took a chance that you’d be here. I didn’t want to be alone.” His hands in his coat pockets, he had a dejected expression on his face.

Wallace sounded like he wanted her to do
him
a favor by spending time with him, a surprising twist.

“What are you doing alone in Chicago? Doesn’t your family have dinner plans?”

“Oh, Mother will be pained because, after all, what will people say? But really, it will just be one, empty chair at the table at the club. I will hardly be missed. Mind if I come in, Elizabeth? Please.” His head tilted, his eyes beseeched her.