Fortune Is a Woman (7 page)

“Hey? You there?”

“Then she’ll be easy to find. Gotta go, Paula, I’m late already.”

“You’ll see her before she leaves, right?”

“When is she leaving?”

“Monday, but she’ll probably be finishing odds and ends at her office on Friday and Saturday.”

“You have her working on Saturdays?”

“Well…that’s her prerogative, Beaumont. I don’t interfere.”

(Yeah, right.)

“Beaumont?”

“Of course, Paula. I’ll go see her, I mean.”

_____

“Ah, Queenie. This is…?”

“Eeeevlyn,” the woman inserted in a husky, aristocratic tone. “Evelyn Wainwright,” she said, as if Lydia was supposed to recognize the name.

She didn’t.

“Eeeevelyn,” Edward Beaumont crooned, winking at his daughter. “This is Lydia, my illustrious daughter.”

“Oh, Lydiahhhh, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Ahhhhhhhhhhh, the old coot was at it again. Evidently the woman hadn’t noticed, or didn’t mind his wedding band. “Pleased to meet you, Evelyn,” she said. “Edward, is this a bad time for–?”

“No, no, no,” he insisted. “I’ve got a table for the four of us. Where’s Helaine?”

“Uh…Helaine couldn’t make it, tonight. She sends her love.”

“Oh? That’s too bad. And here I am on my best behavior.” This time the wink was for Evelyn.

The seventy-something-year-old giggle that erupted from her was still as attractive as a girl’s, Lydia noted.

“Then we’ll just have to carry on without her,” Edward said. He held the chair for his date and she sat in it like a throne.

The baroness. That’s what Lydia would call this one. She wondered if he had picked her up at the bar.

Appetizers. Drinks. Giggles.

His “best behavior” would be the death of him, she kept thinking throughout dinner. She watched charming Edward Beaumont with a mix of pride and shame as he expertly reeled the baroness in. The woman went willingly; she didn’t see him the way a daughter might. She was charmed, charmed, charmed all evening, laughing until the girlish giggle grew older and older and the lights of the clubhouse finally went dim and there seemed to be only Edward Beaumont left glowing in it, shining like a candle, illuminating the woman’s way in the darkness.

Beaumont charm. By the time dessert had arrived, Lydia was feeling notorious, too. She began weighing the greater genetic implications of being the man’s daughter and glanced around self-consciously to see if anyone else might be thinking the same.

Probably.

Eight o’clock. The after-dinner drinks and coffee came, followed by the customary argument over which of the Beaumonts would take care of the bill. A foolish ritual; Edward always paid. When Lydia finally left around nine, the paperwork for the summer place well hidden in her briefcase, her thoughts returned once more to Helaine.

How Strength Should Be Measured

It was half past nine when Lydia came home from dinner.

“Helaine?” She turned the knob again. The door to the bedroom was indeed locked. Helaine was not answering. Shit, Lydia muttered. She read the note again then flung it and the flannel pajamas it was pinned to across the room. “Helaine, c’mon.”

No answer.

Helaine had gone to bed early “to masturbate” so don’t even “dream” of disturbing her, the note warned. A hot summer night, the flannel pajamas she had left on the couch was a perfect fuck you.

Lydia rapped on the door. “Helaine? This is a big misunderstanding, I can assure you.” She listened for a response but none came. “Lana
…please
.”

_____

Friday morning. Helaine emerged from the bedroom dressed for work and strutted by the couch where Lydia had spent her restless night.

“Good morning, darling,” she said in passing. “How was dinner?”

Civility was a good development, Lydia thought. She rolled off the couch and stood naked and bemused in the living room.

Helaine sat at the breakfast table and admired her over the edge of a coffee cup and the paper. “How was dinner, I asked?”

“Dinn–fine.” She shook apart the pajamas that had served as a pillow and put them on. “Excellent.” They were scratchy and hot. “Thank you.” She left them unbuttoned and came to the table. “And how was…uh…well…never mind.” She sat down opposite Helaine and grabbed the financial section.

“Excellent,” Helaine replied. “Thank you.”

Lydia glanced at her. Take away the hostile glint in her eye and she was looking rather demure this morning. Smiling. Lydia gave a hopeful look in return and Helaine rose to leave.

“It was a misunderstanding, Dr. Kristenson. A bizarre and stupid misunderstanding.”

Helaine dumped her coffee down the drain, carefully rinsed the cup in the sink and placed it on the rack to dry. “Good,” she said, wiping her hands and grabbing her briefcase. “Then it’s not likely to ever happen again.”

_____

Friday morning. Paula had meetings scheduled till one and Dickie wasn’t himself. Vomiting all night. He appeared for breakfast pale and sweating, holding a comb full of his wavy, silver hair. He tried to joke about his condition, but his faded blue eyes were welling with tears. Paula gazed at him, terrified. The chemo. She called the office and canceled everything.

_____

Friday afternoon. Lydia took the elevator down to the fifteenth floor and followed the sound of blaring hip-hop till she found herself in the open doorway of her former office. She had expected to find its occupant too busy for a social call, instead Venus and a few of her associates were conducting what appeared to be an impromptu sendoff. There were tall drinks with paper umbrellas scattered everywhere. Blue, red, green, pink. A few corporate clad youths were dancing, working up a sweat, their coats strewn across the cabinets.

Coats and arms. VP Beaumont smiled, thinking of what Paula’s reaction to the scene might have been. She scanned the room for Venus and saw her engaged in a suggestive dance in the corner. She must have been at the gym this morning, Lydia observed, taking stock of the tight sweats, the sleeveless half top. Very sporty and, save for the heels, not her typical work uniform.

It was pointless to knock. No one could hear above this din. Lydia hovered unnoticed in the doorway and watched Venus dance. The girl didn’t seem in a slump, as Paula had claimed. Seemed pretty jubilant, in fact. She saw her arm draped around her partner’s shoulder, directing him with her free hand on his hip, a shower of braids cascading onto her muscular shoulders.

She eyed those shoulders, those familiar arms and legs, and took a quick breath. Another time, she said to herself, scrapping the mission.

“Uh-oh!” someone exclaimed as she left. “That was VP Beaumont!”

Venus glanced over. “Where?” she asked, leaving her partner in the corner.

“Just now. Think this’ll end up in our personnel folders?”

Venus ran out into the hall.

“Nah, she’s cool,” someone else said.

“Pump it up, pump it up!” Venus heard from the hallway. The volume rose. She glimpsed Lydia in the elevator, the doors closing.

“Ms. Beaumont!”

Lydia punched the open button and the door gaped wide again.

“Ms.–” Venus was out of breath. “Lydia.”

Lydia kept her hand on the button. “I’m–I have to go right now. I’m taking over Paula’s appointments today.”

Venus held the door. “I’ll be here late…or tomorrow morning?”

Saturday morning. Lydia nodded and checked her watch.

Venus let go of the door. “Tomorrow?”

The door began to close. Lydia waved. “I will try,” she promised through the slit.

Venus heard, “I will,” and a
ding
.

_____

Saturday morning. Venus was standing at the large window, lost in thought, her back toward Lydia, staring out in the direction of the waterfront, just as Lydia used to do when the office was hers. She seemed unaware that she had her visitor.

Tank top and sweats again. Much quieter this morning, though there were signs of recent revelry. Plastic cups on the floor, an abandoned suit coat. The office was in a state of organized chaos, paperwork stacked in kinetic piles on the floor and desktops, preparations for a long departure. And there was that farewell atmosphere to contend with, an awkward goodbye hanging noxious in the air. She shouldn’t have come today. She leaned gently against the door and debated whether to knock and announce herself or just run.

“Good morning, Ms. Beaumont.”

“I’m…I came back.”

“I’m glad you did.” VP Beaumont was anxious, Venus noticed. Flushed and hesitating in the doorway, like she wanted to run.

“I–may I?”

“Yes, yes, come in. Close the door.”

Lydia hesitated. She probably shouldn’t close the door. “I can’t stay,” she said, walking in and closing the door behind her. “Long, I mean.”

Venus perched on the edge of the cluttered desk. “I’ll be gone awhile. You know that?”

“I–yes. Paula told me.”

Paula. Venus smiled knowingly and sat down.

“Venus, I wanted to tell you that I–”

“Can’t remember my cell phone.”

“Your cell phone? Oh, your number. No, I do still have that. I’ve been, um…”

“Pandering?”

That was a word they both liked. Venus used it accusingly this time.

Lydia blushed and eyed the door.

It was true. She had been pandering. Months of it. And right now, being where she knew she shouldn’t be, she was feeling downright cheap. Always on some kind of a mission for Paula Treadwell and she didn’t even want to be “king of the shitheap” as she and Venus preferred to call it. She wasn’t even supposed to still be in this shitheap. She was supposed to have retired at forty. And what was she doing at Soloman-Schmitt on the weekend anyway, stimulating Venus Angelo’s crush? She couldn’t defend a single bit of it. She should go.

“You can stay a few minutes?” Venus asked.

“Yes.” Lydia said, sitting down. “A few minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” Venus said.

“About?”

“Pandering.”

“Oh.” Lydia forced a laugh. “Me, too. You’re off to Japan, I hear.”

“Japan. And then I suppose the moon.”

Lydia smiled at that. Did seem likely.

“Can Lydia find me on the moon?”

“On the moon? Well…on the moon…you know, I’m not sure. I don’t know.”

“You think she could call me in Japan?”

“I–” Venus was wearing that appealing grin. Her “bad ass” grin. Lydia pictured her dancing with her hand on someone’s hip, leading him to anywhere. To the moon. To Japan. “I guess so.”

“Which? Find me on the moon? Or call me in Japan?”

She shot Venus a shy look. The knee was acting up today. She put her hand over it protectively. It was hot.

“How is it?” Venus asked.

“Still giving me some trouble.”

“Heels, girlfriend.”

“Yeah. They don’t help.”

“Will you call me in Japan?”

There was little chance of that. “I, um, don’t–”

“Or do you want me to apologize first? Because I will if you need me to.”

“Angelo? Apologize? For what?”

Venus leaned forward. “The locker room?”

“The lock–the–you mean the–?”

Venus nodded and flashed her grin.

It had been too much to hope that Venus would never mention it. “No…of course not.”

“I’m sorry.”

On the other hand, she didn’t want to hear her apologize for it, either. “No, don’t–you don’t owe me a–”

“That I lost my nerve.”

“Ah,” Lydia murmured. She had indeed lost her nerve. Lydia respected her for saying so. She lifted her hand from her knee to signify she was leaving. “I think I’d better go. Let you get back to your work. You must have an awful lot to do before you leave.”

Venus was poised to beat her to the door. “Five more minutes. Just five. It can wait.”

Lydia rose from the chair. Five more minutes when she could think of nothing coherent to say was too long. She walked quietly to the door, placed her hand on it and then, feeling Venus behind her, dropped her arms to her sides. “Goodbye, Venus. I wish you a very safe and very prosperous voyage.”

“Turn around,” Venus whispered. “Please.”

Lydia felt her breath warm on the back of her neck. The knee was shot now, her body heavy on it. “No,” she said without turning.

“C’mon, Lydia. Hit the ball.”

“Angelo, I can’t. It’s not–”

Venus kissed the nape of her neck. “You can. You know you can. Turn around, Lydia. Kiss me goodbye. One kiss is all I’m–”

One kiss leads to another and another. Anyone would know that much. She took hold of the doorknob. It was cool in her palm. “I–”

“Won’t,” Venus finished, folding Lydia’s arms in front of her and holding her close. “One goodbye then.”

“Venus.” She threw her head backward.
“Venus
.
”

“Lydia.
”

“Goodbye.”

Lydia was tilting. Venus balanced her with her body. “Three goodbyes, then.”

“I have to go now. Helaine’s–”

“Not yet.”

Lydia covered her breasts. “Yes yet.”

They rocked together.

“Yes yet?”

“No, no.”

“Will you miss me? Say yes, Lydia.”

Venus had her by her belt buckle. “Venus…don’t.”

“Lydia…
do.
Turn around.” The lights were too bright. Venus flicked the switch.

Lydia turned them back on again. “Goodbye, Venus. That’s three. Now I have to go.”

“Lydia Beaumont.”

Her belt was loose.

“Turn around,” Venus pleaded. “Kiss me. Just once.”

Saturday and Helaine would be home for lunch. “I just…I can’t.”

“Can
.
”

The knee felt weaker and weaker.

“At least tell me that you want to.”

“I–” the belt came undone.

“Want to.”

“I want to go. This minute.”

“I don’t think so.”

Lydia reached for Venus and the belt. She reached for the door.

“Turn around, Lydia.”