Operation Mail-Order Bride (6 page)

I was no innocent in the situation, I admitted as I filled my mop bucket in the bathtub. I should have known when he criticized Rose for not having a college education that a relationship with him would never work out, but had I heeded the
alarm that blared when the conversation took that turn? No. Instead, I denied that his criticism could possibly apply to me. I embraced changes in every aspect of my life in the belief that it was worth it to land a good man. A man who, it turned out, wasn’t so good.

Cecilia, Rose’s great-aunt, had sized him up
accurately upon meeting him. That was the only explanation for keeping her distance at the rehearsal dinner and later at the wedding and reception. How I wished I had stayed at her side and asked what she thought of Blair! Ceil would have been honest, and I could have saved myself a vast amount of trouble and expense.

Who
am I kidding?
I scoffed, moving sudsy water about on the kitchen floor. Even if I had sought Ceil’s opinion of Blair and her advice, I probably wouldn’t have taken it. I was smitten with the guy before I met him, convinced that the man I had become acquainted with through letters and phone calls was Mister Right.

So, this is what you’ll do, Cassie,
I told myself later. The kitchen was spotless and I was relaxing with my feet up on the couch.
You’ll keep your job and try to save some of your money. Meanwhile, you’re going to get to know some people besides Blair’s friends.
If I made some friends of my own, I might feel better about staying in Texas. After all, I
had
wanted a change!

I soon established new routines, but meeting new people proved to be difficult. Most of the single people I met seemed to work as much or more than I did, or else they were involved in courtships that left little time for others. When November arrived, I eagerly volunteered to help cook the big dinner the church served on the Saturday after Thanksgiving.

I was in the church kitchen with the other volunteers peeling potatoes when I saw Blair again, carrying a pan of brownies. An angular blond with a fox-like face was clinging to his arm. When Blair struck up a conversation with the pastor’s wife, his arm candy excused herself and left the kitchen.

“That’s Blair’s old girlfriend,” whispered the faculty wife next to me.

“You mean the girlfriend before me?” I asked. She nodded after giving me a searching look. “He told me about her,” I went on. “Looks as if they’ve gotten back together.”

“Too bad, in my opinion,” she stated, raking a pile of peels into a wastecan. I gave her a questioning look, so she continued. “No one but he seems to like her much, but we all like you a lot, Cassie!”

I was surprised to find tears stinging my eyes and I blinked them back as I smiled at her. “Thank you for telling me that, Daisy.”

“I had a feeling you needed to hear it, dear. This is enough for a pan, I think.”

I carried the potatoes to the sink and ran water until they were covered, watching Blair out of the corner of my eye. As I carried the pan to the big range and lit the gas beneath it, the girlfriend re-entered the kitchen and reattached herself to him. They left, and I didn’t think he realized I was in the room.

The post-Thanksgiving dinner was an opportunity for the church to welcome newcomers in a purely social environment. Members were encouraged to bring a guest who they knew or suspected had spent the holiday alone. I invited a co-worker. After my kitchen duties ended, I met her outside by the parking lot and we went to the big parish hall, which was full of tables and folding chairs.

“Wow!” Pat exclaimed, as she draped her jacket around the back of her chair. “I didn’t realize this was going to be a banquet, Cassie.”

“Neither did I. It’s my first one.”

“I’m glad you invited me. After spending all day at the mall, not having to cook dinner tonight is a Godsend.”

“Get much Christmas shopping done?”

“Almost all of it.” Pat had four grown children and one grandchild, so I knew she took her Christmas shopping seriously. “Of course, I started last January!”

After grace, when we began eating, Pat asked, “How are things going with you and Blair? You haven’t mentioned him lately.” I had not
volunteered news of our breakup at work, as I wanted to avoid talking about it. When I invited her to the dinner, I forgot that Pat was likely to see Blair sitting apart from us there and ask me for an explanation. There was nothing for it but to tell her everything. I filled her in, keeping my voice low.

“I’m sorry for your troubles, Cassie,” she told me
after I finished. “You say this happened about a month ago? You seem to be putting it behind you very well.”

“I had an epiphany when he announced that he didn’t love me and probably never would, Pat. I worked really hard to try to love him, but it wasn’t working. If he had any feelings for me, I think it would have. You can only kid yourself for so long.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” I knew Pat was thinking of her divorce. Her marriage had not survived the emptying of her nest. “Any new prospects on the horizon?”

“Well, I …”

“Hello, Cassie,” said a familiar voice.

Blair was standing beside my chair. I greeted him and introduced him to Pat.

“You’re not another underpaid salaried wage-slave at that rag, are you?”

“I’m an editor,” Pat told him, darting me a scandalized look.

I could actually see him warm to her. “English major, eh?”

“A long time ago,” she confirmed.

“My field is History. I’m specializing in American Political History.”

“How interesting,” she said, and reached for the cranberry sauce. Her apparent dismissal appeared to bewilder him. He turned back to me.

“How have you been, Cassie?”

“I’ve been well. How about you?”

“Oh, so-so,” he replied, unable to suppress a little smile. “Well, good seeing you … nice meeting you, Pat. I must get back to my guest.”

I watched as he returned to a seat beside the blonde I saw with him earlier. His face, when he turned it toward her, seemed attentive to the exclusion of everyone else in the hall, but, I reminded myself, he once seemed to look at me that way. It was impossible to tell if he was sincere. I returned my attention to my own guest.

Pat had been observing me as I watched Blair. When she spoke, I could hear the sympathy that lay beneath her words. “I don’t care for him much. I think you’re well rid of him. What’s more,” she continued, with a nod to indicate the girlfriend, “that hungry-looking date of his appears to care less for him than he does for you. He may be in for a rude comeuppance!”

“Then maybe the universe is just, after all,” I said, and we talked of other matters.

The year inexorably neared its end. I Christmas-shopped frantically, braving the mobs in the stores after work, then robbed myself of sleep in order to wrap and get the gifts ready for shipping. These activities, normally fun for me, were done sadly this year, for I realized soon after Thanksgiving that I would be unable to afford to fly home for Christmas. Driving was out of the question, for it would take two days each way, and we were so far behind at the magazine that I did not dare request so many days off. This required a call to my parents. I fought back tears as I announced to them for the first time in my life that I would be unable to join the rest of the family for the holiday. My mother, always alert, could hear the strain in my voice.

“I know you’re a little down after your breakup with that young man, Cassandra. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Oh, I think so, Mom. I pretty much guessed that he was ready to call it quits before he did. It hurt my pride. I mean … how can anyone
not
love me and want to spend as much time as possible with me?”

She laughed. “That’s my girl! But I can tell everything isn’t going as well as you’d like. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s not personal. It’s this job. I’m putting in more hours than I did at my last one, we’re still behind, and because I’m on salary, I’m earning less than minimum wage. Everyone at the office is stressed and short-tempered and … I guess I’m just tired.”

“The pace will let up soon, though, won’t it?”

“It’s supposed to. Then I may be able to take entire weekends off again. I’m trying to avoid thinking about that yet.”

“Why? It would give you something to look forward to.”

“If I allow myself to think about the end of this mad rush, I’m afraid I’ll start asking myself if there’s a point to it. I don’t want to get disillusioned about this job after doing it for less than six months.”

“If it’s a bad job, what’s the problem?”

“It will look good on a
résumé,
Mom. I’d like for this to be a stepping stone to something better, but it won’t be if I can’t stick with it for at least a year.”

She said that she was sure the worst was almost over and promised to call me on Christmas Day. Although I was still saddened at the prospect of spending the holiday alone in my cottage, talking to my mother gave me renewed strength for dealing with the workload I still faced.

Ten days before Christmas, my boss arrived at the office suffering from a terrible cold. The office manager and I manned our desks outside her inner sanctum and listened to her sneeze, cough and blow her nose throughout the day. I wondered why she didn’t take a day or two off until the worst of her symptoms were gone. I thought about recommending that she go home, although it was hardly my place. I didn’t want to catch what she had.

We mailed the January issue just before Christmas
—so late, we were already getting complaints from advertisers. Knowing we had done our best didn’t make it easier to sit politely through callers’ ill-tempered tirades. Preparations for the February issue began immediately.

I was planning to stop and buy myself a frozen turkey breast to roast on the holiday, but on the way to the store it hit me: The Cold. Droplets from my violent sneeze coated the inside of my windshield, and I could feel the onset of the headache that always accompanies a fever. I changed my route and headed home. By the time I got to the cottage, I was burning up.

I awoke the next morning after a restless night. When I called the office, my boss answered.

“I caught your cold, Ms. Gardner,” I told her. “I’m going to stay home. I think I’ll recover more quickly if I rest.”

“Good idea, Cassie,” she agreed. “I wish I had stayed home when I first came down with it.”

Not as much as I do.
I hung up the phone and padded back to bed.

Christmas Day was grey and windy. When I turned the radio on I heard an ice storm warning.
Sounds like home,
I thought, and changed stations until I found one that was playing carols. Though I had never had to do it before, celebrating the holiday alone and far from my family proved to be curiously restful. I opened my gifts one at a time, sipped tea, and grazed when I felt hungry. My parents called after their midday meal and I talked at length with them and with my sisters and brother. As soon as we said our goodbyes and hung up, the phone rang. It was Rose.

“Cassie, can you ever forgive me?”

“For what?”

“For fixing you up with that cad, Blair Hutchinson. What a jerk! We saw him last night here in Albuquerque, him and his new girlfriend, though I guess she’s not exactly ‘new.’ Trent says they
were together for a long time before I ever met Blair. Anyway, she’s kind of awful. I have no idea what he sees in her. I didn’t want to grill him for news about you and details of your breakup in front of her, so I thought I’d call.”

“I’m glad you did, Rose. I have missed you so much. How’s Trent?”

“Trent’s great.”

“Are you two still lovebirds?”

She assured me that the honeymoon still wasn’t over, and I felt glad that that, at least, was working out. Although I had written her briefly about my breakup with Blair, I went into more detail now, expressing the annoyance I still felt with him.

“You know what the worst thing about it is, Rose? I took all the risks. I know I did so of my own free will, but it still makes me mad. He didn’t give up anything to try this little experiment. I gave up a good job, moved fifteen hundred miles, bought a car I’d never have needed if I’d stayed where I was, and got a much less satisfying job that pays less.