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Authors: Annette Bower

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BOOK: Woman of Substance
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Stop right now. This is research. I need to stay focused
. Inside, she hung her coat, kicked off her shoes, and focused on each stair. Her job now was to get undressed and clean up and record her data. She removed the melted gel packs and placed moisture-soaking packages into the legs and arms and torso of the suit, so the suit would be dry and fresh when she went out in it again.

Robbie sank into the tub. Why was she suddenly feeling as if she should just accept Clifton’s assessment and get the thesis over and done with and move on? Her parents would welcome her into their business. Her father was a general practitioner doctor in the town of Lumsden and her mother was the counselor. She wouldn’t have to put up with the ‘one word to describe yourself’ questions. Her parents were very familiar with her creative determination on good days and stubbornness on others.

With her back against the hard surface, the bubbles dissipated across the swell of her breasts, which were tiny in comparison to those of her interview persona. Her tension eased. She was prepared for the sessions today and she would be prepared tomorrow, too. She had inside information about the proficiency and psychological tests. The position at Heavenly Treats would be great for the successful candidate. The web site showed opportunities for movement in the company, as well as a great medical plan. She would probably have to turn down the position if it was offered to her as either Robin or Robbie because of her research, unless Mrs. Jones accepted Robbie’s explanations and would see her creativity as an asset to the company.

Her treadmill stood idle in the corner. Even though it was only six in the evening, it was dark and she craved the crisp air on her face. The calendar showed a three-quarter moon. She would run in the familiar safety of the park where she could avoid cars and curbs. She dressed in her reflective vest and tugged on her knit hat fitted with a head light. A quick call to her parents fulfilled a promise. They only needed a voice mail or text message before she began and when she returned if she ran alone after dark.

She set an easy pace and followed the yellow line down the middle of the path, past leafless deciduous branches and outstretched evergreen limbs. Running in the dark required a trust in her own abilities that she wouldn’t stumble where the path wasn’t even. The only sounds were her steady breathing, her feet striking the pavement, and the wind. She saw a shape on Frank’s bench. It was too late and too cold for the person to be Frank. Her eyes strained at the faceless shape hunched on the bench. Her light beam outlined the edge of the opposite side of the path. She gripped her pepper spray, another promise to her parents, but her feet slowed their pace on their own volition. When she glanced over, she recognized Jake’s leather jacket. Her headlamp outlined his profile. She stopped. “Professor Proctor?”

The figure looked up.

She sat down beside him. He wouldn’t see the similarities between her and Robin tonight, not with her hat pulled down over her ears covering her hair and dressed in her running gear. She turned off her light when he held up his hand to block out the glare. “Robbie Smith,” she said. “We met at the university and at the fundraising dinner last week. Are you okay?”

He lowered his hand from his eyes and he straightened. “Hello.”

She dropped her spray back to the bottom of her pocket, then hunkered down in front of him. “Have you been here long?”

“I was thinking of leaving.” His voice was husky and lacked conviction.

Maybe something had happened to Frank but she couldn’t ask. As Robbie she wasn’t supposed to know that Jake had an ill grandfather. Her body was cooling down and she shivered, but Jake looked chilled to the bone. “Listen, I live through those gates. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll make some coffee. I have a fireplace.”

“No, thank you. I can’t. I appreciate that you mean well but . . . I’m faculty at your university and you’re a grad student.”

“Come on, it’s freezing out here.” She clutched his gloved hand, and she stood. When she turned, he followed. She hurried along the path and he trailed in a daze just behind, their clouds of exhaled breath mingling and blowing away. She unlocked the door and guided him into the vestibule. He stepped out of his loafers and was drawn toward the fire, while she unlaced her runners and tossed her coat and hat into the closet. She needed the warmth of the fire, too.

He stared into the embers. She bent and placed logs on the grate and closed the protective screen, then tipped the photographs that lined the mantle facedown.

The phone rang and she picked it up on the second ring. “Yes, home safe and sound. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you. Goodnight.”

The conversation didn’t break his concentration on the flames licking the logs. While coffee brewed, she looked around for visible reminders of her project. The coat was in the front closet and the rest of the disguise in the bedroom. If she kept the closet doors closed, her alter ego would be safe. She made his coffee sweet and black.

Jake sat on the ottoman with his shoulders rounded and his head in his hands. His jacket lay on the floor.
At least he’s warm.
“Professor Proctor.” He looked up. She put the mug of coffee into his palm and he circled it with both hands and brought the mug to his lips. She watched him swallow the steaming liquid.

“Thank you.”

“What happened?”

“The doctor told me tonight that my grandfather won’t live until Christmas.” He didn’t look at her but at the wavering flames in the grate.

She touched his arm and felt his sorrow radiating from him like heat from the fire. “I’m so sorry. Please, sit on the sofa.” He looked forlorn perched on the stool, staring into the fire.

She thought of Frank’s small body, asleep, marooned in the white landscape of his bed. Robbie hadn’t expected his death to be imminent. She wished she had the power to become Robin without leaving his side, so then she could ask the questions that ran through her head. Instead, she stood until he sat. She wanted to sit next to him and draw his body close to hers, stroke his back, hold him and bring him into her warmth. Instead she sat in the chair across the room. She couldn’t have him recognize her or have him feel compromised because of her student position. “Is there anything I can do? Something to help?” Her voice sounded flat.

He set his coffee cup down. He seemed to look through her. Frank’s impending death loomed between them. Drawing a deep breath, Jake shook his head. “I feel as if you know my grandfather. Your voice sounds familiar. I’m sorry.”

“My voice changes in the cold weather.”
Robbie, be careful.

He stood and gathered his jacket, took one last look at the sparks in the fireplace. “Thanks for the coffee but I’d better go. I didn’t think the reality would hit me like this.”

Robbie followed him to the front door and watched him slip into his shoes. “Can I drive you somewhere?”

With his hand on the handle, he turned. “No thanks. My car’s across the park. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” She broke eye contact before she told him that she knew Frank. Now was not the time to burden him with her deception.

As soon as he was out of the door, she turned the lock and watched out the window until he disappeared into the park. She knew his car was at Care Manor. Before she washed his mug, she circled her hands around the width and held it. If only she could have offered him something more. She dropped the mug into the soapy water. What had she expected, a lingering warmth? She couldn’t indulge in this kind of fantasy. Her degree was at stake. Frank was dying and Jake was hurting.

She woke through the night to tree branches banging against her eaves and the sound of frozen pellets hitting the windowpanes.
First thing in the morning, I’ll call. Before I have coffee. I need to know. I want to be who Frank needs me to be.

When her alarm went off at seven o’clock, she knew she would have to wait. She didn’t want to frighten him. She drank a pot of coffee. Paced. Could she dress up as Robin and visit Frank and then come home and get ready for her interview as Robbie? What was she prepared to do? What was her plan? The radio announcer called the top of the hour. It was nine. Heart pounding, she pressed the speed dial. “Good morning, Frank.”

“Hello, Robin. Are you coming to see me this morning?”

“Sorry. I have a job interview this afternoon and I need to be all shiny and squeaky clean. That’s why I’m calling to tell you I’ll drop in later.”

“Guess I can wait. Not much happening anyway. If it warms up and I can convince the staff, maybe I’ll be outside.”

“Make sure you wear your scarf and mittens. You take care until I see you again.” She didn’t even know if Frank knew what little time was left. Jake said before Christmas. That was a month, four short weeks.

“Don’t feel as if you have to come and see an old man.”

“I want to, so don’t go suggesting I have a little guilt trip. Save that for your grandson.”

“No, not him either. He’s been pretty steady since he’s come home.”

“Good for him. Take care. I have to run.”

She jogged in the park, trying to stay focused on the second interview at Heavenly Treats. Just before lunch, she dressed for the one o’clock appointment in a pantsuit similar to the one she’d worn as Robin. Her black hair was curled and she wore blush, foundation, eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. She didn’t wear the scarf today. She carried her résumé in the same portfolio as she had as Robin yesterday.

Another parking meter, another two hours paid for. Today, she’d appreciate running into Jake and receiving his good wishes but that would really be too much synchronicity. Robbie was a masters’ student. She was qualified to apply for this position. With her shoulders back and head held high, she approached Ms. Winston and introduced herself.

“Good afternoon. Robbie Smith for a one o’clock appointment.”

“One moment.” Ms. Winston closed the file she worked on, then rounded her desk and said, “Follow me.”

Ms. Winston wore a suit similar to yesterday but today it was a deep shade of caramel, with matching shoes. This woman knew how to dress for success.

Robbie was led directly into Mrs. Jones’ office. Today she slid into the chair with ease. Mrs. Jones asked the same questions. Robbie tried to give the same responses as she had when she was dressed as Robin Smyth.

“Robbie, do you understand the importance of image in the food industry?”

This was new. Robbie looked directly at Mrs. Jones and replied, “Of course, image is always important in any business.”

Mrs. Jones fingered her smooth hairstyle and flicked an imaginary speck from her tailored blouse. Then she said, “Because we’re in the food industry our staff is required to maintain good physical shape. We can’t give our customers even the slightest hint that eating our food may cause weight gain.”

“But all food, if eaten in large quantities with little exercise, can cause a weight gain.”

“That’s true. Do you have self control?”

“I eat a healthy diet and you’ll see in my résumé that I have a membership in a health club and that I walk or run almost daily,” Robbie said.

“What about your parents?”

“What do they have to do with this?” Robbie leaned forward.

“Genetics.”

“From the family photographs, we seem to be above average in height with a medium body frame.”

“Excellent. Your credentials are very promising. Do you have any questions for me?”

“On your website, it states that your company has a health plan. Does it reimburse employees for time to work out and health club costs or nutrition counseling?”

“No. We assume employees would be proud and would manage those areas on their own.”

“What happens if an employee puts on weight due to medication?”

“We would find an area that’s less visible until the situation is rectified.”

“And no one has filed a suit against the company?”

“Not since I’ve been in charge. We promote hard-working independent women into management.” Mrs. Jones swiveled in her chair.

“When will your team make the hiring decision?”

“Eve will telephone the successful candidate at the beginning of next week. I know you’d enjoy working with us at Heavenly Treats.”

“Thank you for your time but I disagree. I couldn’t work at a company where my dress size and genetics were used as a mark of achievement.”

Robbie turned on her heel and marched out of the office. If she had heroic powers, she’d find a closet and change into Robin and go right back in there and flick the fluff off of Mrs. Jones’ shoulder and tell her what she could do with her Heavenly Treats.

Today there wasn’t a parking attendant ready to write out a ticket because the interview hadn’t taken the same amount of time. Robbie wanted to report this incident to human resources immediately. She needed to slow down. This is the type of proof she needed for her thesis. She knew one thing was for certain, she wasn’t turning on the ignition until she had herself under control.

Later when she drove past the park, Frank was there in a wheelchair, all bundled up with a blanket around his knees. She parked in a vacant spot and stomped through the park.

“Hi, Frank,” she said and plopped down beside him.

He raised his gray brows. “Have we met?”

She’d been so excited seeing him outside and on his bench that she’d forgotten she didn’t have her suit until he was confused by her appearance. She considered spilling the beans. But then she thought about his Mabel, and her friends, Mavis, Sharon, and Margaret. “Sorry. I’m Robbie.” She extended her hand. “I’ve waved at you whenever I’ve run by. Robin, my friend, told me your name and that you feed the geese.”

“Your mamas didn’t have much of an imagination when they named you girls.” He strained against the blanket across his knees.

She decided not to comment on the names. Maybe if she didn’t say anything more she’d be able to climb out of the hole she’d dug for herself. “You’re wrapped up pretty warm today.”

“Between the staff and my grandson they wrapped me up like a mummy. I can’t get my bread for the geese.”

“The lake’s almost frozen. I don’t think any will come today.”

He turned and looked at her while she spoke. “You sound like Robin. You could be twins, similar shaped eyes, different color though.”

BOOK: Woman of Substance
11.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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