Unfinished Business (20 page)

We’re still standing like that when Caroline strolls in, fresh from her power breakfast. “Hello, Mr. Neville,” she starts off in her ‘I’m such a big important deal’ voice. Her confidence fades with each of the next few words, “Did you stop…by…to…?”

Her poor face drops and her shoulders slump until they congeal, and a grimace pulls on her mouth.

“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” Clueless Mr. Neville pivots and gestures to the chair sitting proudly behind my desk. “I’m sure you agree, Caroline, that Hayley is doing a wonderful job here and we want her to know how much we appreciate her.”

When Caroline remains silent, he prods her. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, of course.” She turns her shoulder to Ollie and a phony smile to me. “We all want you to know how we feel about having you out here. In the reception area. Where you belong.”

Basking in the joy of getting under Caroline’s skin, I amble over to the chair and ease myself into it, bit by bit. “Ahhhhh. Like a dream. Really. Do you want to try it, Caroline?”

Her face sours even more, then she pulls herself together to spin away from me to Ollie. “Come in, umm…please.” She waves him to her sanctuary. “I’ll tell you what we discussed at the breakfast.”

As she’s closing the door I hear some of Ollie’s words, “Exciting…developments…”

Tony rests his hip on the corner of my desk. “What gives, Hayley?” he asks quietly. “You doing some special projects for Mr. Neville? Providing some extra services?”

“No,” I whisper back.

The tables are turned and for once he’s the harasser. He lifts an eyebrow and stares down at me.

“We’re even now. Thanks.”

When his face stays blank, I pat the armrests and add, “For noticing the chair. I really had no idea what he was trying to show me.”

After a pause, Tony says, “I noticed it because, I, um, sat in it. I was looking for a pencil in your desk, and well, that’s how I noticed.”

Did he find it? The pencil? In my desk? “I don’t care how or why, I’m just glad you did because otherwise I would’ve been standing there like some idiot, trying to figure out what the hell had him so excited.”

The word excited brings a sparkle to Tony’s eye. I point to Caroline’s door. “You checking the net again?”

Tony hops off my desk and backs toward the French doors, almost stepping into one of the potted fig trees. “Yeah, nothing there. I’m working on…a new project. I think it’s better than…” He lets that tidbit of information go, then smacks his hands together. “Stay out of trouble.” He then whips around to add, “Later.”

Something is definitely going on with that guy.

After he’s gone, I take the opportunity to spin around as fast as possible.
Sweet!
The chair doesn’t make a sound but is it getting higher or are my legs shrinking?

I swirl the other way and my feet touch the floor again.

I go up and down until my stomach feels sufficiently queasy. How cool is this? I have a lovely crimson chair that could probably make me throw up.

On impulse I grab my phone and hit ‘Nick’.

He answers on the third ring. After he says “Hi” I fill him in on the whole chair thing. He tells me to start spinning, so we can see how long I can keep talking while going in circles. I make it about six times around before I get too dizzy to make sense. It feels good to laugh about something so stupid. For a few seconds it puts us back where we were before we got naked and fucked.

But then he asks me if I’m okay and I know what he means.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Fine with the way things are?” he asks. “The
friends
thing?”

I know I should say something I actually mean, but instead I say, “Yes. Fine with the way things are.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

When it’s His Way or the Highway

Sunday night, after spending the day with my family, I push open the door to my apartment to find Nick has popped in to get the details of my visit home. He’s stretched out on my couch with a John Grisham paperback. He glances up and grins. Glad to see him, I grin back.

“Good time?” he asks, tossing me the keys I leave hidden under one of the cement blocks that line the parking lot of my building.

I set my purse on the surprisingly empty table that usually houses my newly arrived magazines and unopened envelopes. “Yeah. We ate at my aunt’s house. Pot roast and chocolate cake.”

“You’re a happy girl.”

He knows those are my favorite foods.

“Yeah.” I fiddle with my keys, remembering the last time I sat on the couch with him.

“Come on over and tell me about it,” he says, hefting himself upright and smacking the cushion next to him.

I drop down at the opposite end of the couch.

When I don’t answer his question, he angles back. “You mad at me?”

“No. That’s stupid. Why would you think that?”

He pokes my arm. “Text much? Check your voicemail?”

I avoid the truth, that I don’t know how to handle the way he makes me feel and go with the modern woman’s stand-by. Work. “The whole thing at North Pointe, you know.”

He’s staring at me with a blank face. “Nothing else?”

I shake my head and scramble for something to talk about. “Something’s wrong with Caroline. She’s going crazy right before my eyes.”

“Crazy with excitement?” He laughs.

“I don’t know… Ever since Mr. Neville put her in charge of the pool party that’s going to be happening before the raffle drawing, which I’ve pretty much taken over, she’s hardly been around and she’s been acting really weird.”

“Is she going to be there, at the celebration thing?”

“You better believe it.”

He sets his book onto the coffee table. “Why are you still doing all her work?”

“I’m not. Like I said, she’s doing the pool party.”

We’re too quiet for too long, probably because he’s trying to figure out if the real Hayley has been abducted by aliens and replaced by one who actually cares about her job.

“I think I better check my messages.” I hit speaker then play.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s Mom, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. Rodney’s wedding has been moved up because his fiancé got a job offer in California and they have to move over the Memorial Day weekend. So, the wedding is on Saturday. This Saturday. The nineteenth. You’ll be able to make it. Right? Bring Nick. Everyone loves him.”

Nick’s laughing. “Hot damn,” he howls. “A weddin’. We’ll have us a fine time.”

A cloud of awkwardness forms above me, and I slouch into the cushions. Drops of mortification fall on my head and render me speechless until I come up with, “You don’t have to go.”

He looks smug. “Yes, I do. Everyone loves me. I don’t want to disappoint my people.”

“Really, Nick. You don’t want to go. It’ll be boring. All that sitting around being happy for other people. Really, what’s so fun about that?”

“Ahh, that’s my Hayley. Always the romantic.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

De Nile, Spring’s Hot Travel Spot

Even though it’s Wednesday and I’m at work, I’m in a good mood. You see, I’ve found a way to set aside sorting out my real feelings for Nick and the notion that I need long-term goals and plans by focusing on my short-term successes and doing important things like organizing my desk. Who would’ve ever guessed the joys of tidy drawers? Also, in this way, I avoid all the tiresome thinking that comes with questions that lead to real personal growth and change by keeping busy making calls and filing stuff.

I’ve put away all my self-help materials—books, the Optional Handout Packet, and magazines. Whatever I’ve learned from them will have to be enough for now. I am alone, yes, yet full of words and ideas that sound great as they play through the soundtrack of my mind.

Who says task avoidance is a bad thing? It’s working for me. Things are going my way.

For one thing, Caroline has become a truly rare bird. Instead of flitting around my desk, pecking around for the magazines I used to have hidden under papers and in file folders, she stays in her sanctuary. Or leaves for hours on end.

In the past, that might’ve caused me to spend more time wasting time but I’ve been too busy dealing with the whole celebration. And it is actually coming along well, if I do say so myself.

Sure, I still think the whole thing is kind of stupid—really, who cares about the fifteen years of luxurious living? Not me. And not many other people. But any reason for a party is a good reason. That’s what I’ve been telling myself and it’s starting to make a difference.

I have enthusiasm. I even have a bit of team spirit. As long as I conveniently forget that Caroline is part of the team.

I used some review sites to find a new paint and repair company to take over for the crappy, unreliable one we’ve been using. They’ve done a couple of the units and Mr. Hastings says he’s never seen better work. Mr. Neville is ecstatic.

Here’s another thing. The woman in charge of organizing The Willing Wheels Ride loves the idea of coordinating the finish line activities with the raffle drawing. We’ve even expanded our raffle ticket distribution to include all the people who have sponsored the riders. So Josie, Riana and Nick will each get a ticket! That means more publicity for both North Pointe Farms and The Association for Diabetic Children.

Riana is thrilled.

Mr. Neville and Management are thrilled.

Even Regional is thrilled.

Caroline is not thrilled.

I couldn’t be happier.

So happy, that even sending out the ‘nice’ mid-month reminders isn’t so bad. I’m slipping them into envelopes when one of the French doors open and Mrs. Klonski pokes her head in. She’s beaming.

“Come out here, Hayley dear. I know you’ll want to see this.”

Before I can respond, she ducks back out and disappears. Probably all that’s waiting outside for me is an empty sidewalk. Maybe, ‘You’ll want to see this’ is old lady code for let’s play hide and seek.

I have things to do but who can resist an old Polish lady?
Oh! Maybe she has cookies!
I tumble out of my chair then go outside.

To the left is the empty parking lot so I head to the right. Three steps later, I hear Mrs. Klonski chattering softly to someone…something. It’s Snickers.

No cookies are in sight, just poor, abused Snickers.

“Who’s the cutest littlest patriot?” she asks.

Oddly enough the dog doesn’t reply. Not one to be put off by an unresponsive pet, she answers herself, “Sweetie Snickers is!”

Mrs. Klonski glances up from where she’s kneeling on the grass and waves me over. “We’re getting ready for the big day. Isn’t he a darling?”

I don’t know which is crazier, the red, white and blue sweater she apparently knitted for the dog or the miniature star-spangled cowboy hat she has somehow gotten to stay on top of its head.

Snickers stares at me with eyes that say, ‘Tell any of my friends and I’ll sneak inside your apartment and chew holes in all your favorite underwear’.

“Did that sweater take you long to make?”

“No time at all.” She tugs on the hem and smoothes it out. “Bob says Snickers will be the best-dressed dog here.”

Chalk one up for Mr. Hastings.
“He’s absolutely right.”

She smiles at me. “Do you need any help organizing the raffle tickets?”

Here we are at the real reason for this get-together. Mrs. Klonski has uncovered the unsecret secret way I’ll be dividing up the raffle tickets. She knows that she’s going to be getting more tickets than anyone else and she wants to be sure I know it too. “No, I can manage everything myself. Thanks, though.”

She scoops up her little pooch and tucks him under one arm. “I’d be happy to help. It’d be no trouble.”

“Really. Thanks for the offer but Mr. Neville said—”
Here comes lie number one but I’m sure he’d say this if he were here
. “I have to be the only person who handles the tickets.”

She looks as though she’s trying to come up with another angle so I add lie number two, “If anyone else touches them, the drawing will be declared illegal and nobody will win any of the prizes.”

“Oh dear.” She steps back. “I had no idea.”

Lie number three— “It’s serious business, raffle drawing. I bet there will even be an undercover policeman here.”

As though he may already be here, picking out the perfect hiding spot, Mrs. Klonski scans the empty pool and the corners of the clubhouse.

Three fibs in a row is my limit so I change the subject. “Do you know anyone who’ll be in the rally?”

“That bicycle thing?”

I nod as I walk backward. From experience I know that if I don’t end this soon, I’ll be jotting down recipes or bargain websites.

“No. I don’t think I do know anybody. I bought my grandson a tricycle for his last birthday, though.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m sure he was thrilled.”

“His mom wasn’t so happy. Now she has to take him to the park every day or he cries.”

Mrs. Klonski is following me back to the door, but I’m ready when we reach it. I frown. “Sorry, no dogs in the clubhouse.”

She frowns back and tries to cover the dog’s ears. The hat gets in the way. “Lil Snickers isn’t a dog,” she says quietly.

I’m dying to ask—
then what is he?
—except the answer might force me to accept that Mrs. Klonski is not sane. “Bye, Mrs. Klonski.”

“Bye, Hayley dear.”

I wave and slip back inside. My phone hums as the door is drifting shut. It’s Josie.

“My sister wants to meet us at Anthony’s tonight. Nine o’clock. Okay with you or do you have plans?”

What’s up? Why us? Why me?
I hedge with, “Um, I don’t know.”

“I think it’s got something to do with the piece that was canceled. I think she’s trying to rewrite it or something.”

I remind myself of two important things—

1) Josie is my friend.

2) Josie’s relationship with her sister runs only two ways. Hot and cold. Right now things are hot so they’re like two ducks in a mud puddle. If one turns on me, they’ll both turn on me.