It's been crazy around here this morning - dashing hither and yon, trying to catch up with myself. I finally have and now I'm too worn out to think of anything to write here. Not amusing, not boring, not same-old, same-old, so I'll post a couple of chapters from one of my books and get back to writing.
This is from 'Matters of Friendship' which is available for reading at Authonomy. It's free to sign up, totally spam free, and a place to read up-and-comers. https://www.authonomy.com/book/294687/
Have a lovely day!
Philippa
Follow me at Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Matters of Friendship
Chapter 1 - Resurrection
The ‘Resurrection Party’ was supposed to be a celebration
of my divorce, but it wasn’t. It was anything but a celebration.
“Did you hear…?”
“Isn’t it
awful? Poor thing.”
“Poor Peter! What’s
he going to do…?”
“I wonder how
the kids are dealing with it…”
Moving from
group to group in my role as guest of honor, I overheard at least a dozen
conversations, all on the same theme, but I didn’t mind. How could I?
Some of the
people there were friends from other times, other places. The rest, the
majority, were colleagues and work friends. These people also knew Peter and
some had met his wife, Lara.
The first
group wanted to spend time catching up, to ask how I was doing, what it was
like to be single again. I circulated through them, answering questions, asking
my own, and hearing about kids grown up, moved away, new grand babies and the
lives I had missed. Some also wanted to meet my other, newer friends, the ones
they might have heard of from me.
The rest, the
people who knew Peter or Peter and Lara, wanted to talk about them and her
cancer. They ignored the others, the strangers or waiting-to-be friends, and
clustered together shifting from place to place while they dissected the
gossip.
Balancing both
groups with all the undercurrents was an uphill battle. It was a challenge that
would stump the best hostess in the world, which I wasn’t. Still I tried.
As usual for
summer in Sonoma County, the afternoon started hot but cooled rapidly when the
fog came across the coast. The fuzzy edge of it trimmed the tops of the distant
hills while the wind carried its chill dampness inland. Sundresses and polo
shirts were no match, so the patio cleared and we all moved into the winery tasting
room where the drinking, nibbling and gossiping continued.
When the sun
began to set behind the encroaching fog, the party wound down. People stopped
on their drift toward the doors to say all the usual things people say at a
time, in a place like that. As the group thinned, the strains of light jazz
coming from the built-in speakers grew proportionally louder, filling the fresh
made gaps. Outside, evening grew and someone turned on the inside lights.
After making one
last circuit of the room, pausing by the laggards to offer my thank yous for
their coming and encourage them to leave, I caught up with Karen and Stan. They
were my friends who had organized the party and had spent the evening behind
the bar, pouring drinks and replenishing the trays of food. With them was Brendan,
the winery owner and Stan’s boss. As I approached, Karen looked past Brendan
and offered a rueful smile.
“Hey, Allison, there you are!” She stepped
forward, proffering a swapped air kiss when I came to a stop. “It’s a shame
about Lara, really terrible news. I hope it didn’t mess things up for you
tonight, and you still had a good time?”
“I had a
wonderful time, given the circumstances.” Looking back down the long room, I
allowed myself a sigh. Of all the people Karen had said she would invite, Peter
was the only one I had really wanted to see. The others would have been the
cake, but he would have been the icing.
Oh well, no regrets, remember?
Turning back,
I smiled and took her hand in mine. “It’s awful about Lara, and I feel terrible
for Peter and the kids. So sad for them, but it was thoughtful and kind for you
and Stan to put this together for me. I can’t thank you enough. It was great to
see everyone again.”
“Oh, good, I’m
glad you enjoyed it.”
“I did, so
thank you again, but I also came to say good night. I’ve got to feed Charley
and get some stuff done for tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
Her dark eyebrows rose, “We were just talking about going out to dinner after
we shoo everyone else out of here.”
“Gee,” a flash
of embarrassment swept through me as my eyes flicked over to Brendan.
He was a good
looking, tall, barrel chested man in his mid-fifties with a creased face and
brilliant blue eyes. To me, he looked more like a cowboy than a winery owner.
Still, I was
nowhere close to being ready to start going out or dating. Not even a casual
dinner that felt like a set-up so I smiled at him, a ‘no hard feelings’ gesture
because he was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“That sounds
really nice, but… I’m sorry. Perhaps we could do it another time?”
Karen looked
faintly hurt and I felt badly. She had been generous with arranging the party
and was trying to be a good friend.
Smiling, I
offered an alternative. One that I hoped wouldn’t feel quite like such a trap
for either Brendan or me. “I am sorry, but I really can’t tonight. How about
you all come to my place for dinner next Saturday and we’ll do a barbecue?”
Brendan
shifted and looked away, the muscles in his face tighter than they had been. Was
he irritated, resentful, embarrassed or was it something else?
Stan tossed a
grimace at his wife, who looked only slightly abashed, and said, “That sounds
good to us. How about it, Brendan?”
“Uh … yeah,
sure, that sounds good.” He didn’t look thrilled. There was no smile or brightening
of the eyes as he glanced from Stan to Karen and then at me. It looked as if he
was searching for an excuse and not finding one. “When next Saturday?”
“Why don’t we
say six o’clock? Would that be okay?” I thought my voice sounded unnaturally
cheerful and it was my turn to squirm, hoping no one else noticed.
There were
murmurs all around while I smiled at Karen, even though I wanted to throttle
her for putting me on the spot like that. Instead, I just said good night and
left, waiting until I pulled the car door shut behind me before saying what I
was thinking.
“Geez Louise,
Karen! The ink is barely dry on the decree, and you’re already trying to set me
up!”
I had to
laugh, at both of us, and did as I slipped the key into the ignition and backed
out of the parking space. As I drove away, my laughter fell behind as sadness crept
in with the thoughts of Lara and Peter.
Chapter Two - Introductions
Four years before my ‘resurrection’, the company at which I had I worked
underwent a massive reorganization. In the course of six months, half the upper
management left in either forced ‘retirement’ or terminated disgrace. New management
transferred in or came onboard. Departments were reconstituted, streamlined and
became new things.
Through it all, I kept my head down and my powder dry. Too many of my
co-workers received transfers or terminations. Many others quit. I didn’t want
to join them, so I trod carefully, balancing on the precipice, never quite sure
where the edge might be. That edge got narrower when my boss, the general
manager, called me into his office one day.
The Transition Manager was sitting in front of the desk, watching me. I
sensed something, a tension, so I closed the door.
“Allison,” Bryce looked pale, shaken. He stopped, shook his head and
cleared his throat, took a moment and then looked up at me. “I’m being let go.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it and took a step closer to the desk.
Bryce had founded the company, had built it, grown it, and then sold it
to a multi-national company in the same industry. They had kept him on, let him
lead, and now … this?
He just looked away, down, and nodded. The strain was painful to see and
my heart went out to him.
We had not always worked comfortably together, but we had made a good
team. His approach to managing people was sometimes overbearing. Occasionally
he would verbally club people to try to get them to perform, but he had always
been fair, treating everyone the same without favorites.
After the first time I had seen what I thought was unfair and
unreasonable, I went into his office, supposedly to get his signature on some
letters.
“It’s a shame about Morrie.” I was standing at the end of his desk and
spoke neutrally.
“Oh?” He looked up. His dark bristly eyebrows had already drawn down
over his frosty eyes.
I didn’t back down, but didn’t challenge his stare, either. Instead, I
looked at the sheaf of papers in my hands.
“Mm. I heard his daughter was in an accident last week, hit by a pickup
truck. Seems one of her legs and an arm are broken, and she’s in a back brace. It
must be awful for him and Marie.” I watched him through the corner of my eye,
to gauge his reaction. “I can’t imagine the strain that’s putting on him.”
He shifted on the chair, his pen hovering over the latest page. The pen
landed and moved as he said, “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t think so, but I think that’s why he’s been so distracted
lately. There’s probably a lot going on at home.”
He grunted and shoved the letters into my hand, looking at the wall
across the room with that crease still between his brows.
“How old is she?”
“Six and her name is Sally.”
Without another word, I left and went back to my desk from which I could
see into his office. Perhaps a minute later, he stood up, came to and paused in
the doorway before sauntering off, heading in the direction of Morrie’s workstation.
From then, when I thought he had crossed the line, I tried to find
little ways to let him know that sugar and honey attract more than vinegar and
brine. He gradually learned and I was always careful not to step into things
that were strictly performance related.
Now, he cleared his throat again, “I’ll be leaving in a few minutes, but
I wanted to let you know,” he looked up at me. Tears edged his lower eyelids, “you
have been a great assistant. I appreciate it and I’ve put in a good word.” He
shrugged and a ghost of a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. “I don’t know
what good that will do, but I’ve done what I can.”
It took me a moment to gather my wits, and then I nodded, “Thank you. Thank
you for telling me, personally.”
The woman we all resented and feared rose, her face smooth, as if she
felt nothing about what she was doing to Alan, to me, to everyone else who had
worked there.
“Please excuse us.” Her perfume caught in my nose when she reached past
me and opened the door.
“Of course,” still in shock, I stepped through, glanced back and then
closed the door behind me.
Back at my desk, it was impossible to work. I kept looking at the office
door and the narrow sidelight through which I could see the woman’s shoulder
above the chair back.
Things gradually balanced out, settled down. The new general manager
came in. Carolyn, the Transition Manager who had dropped the axe on Bryce
introduced us, and that was that. Stay or leave, take it or leave it, and I
decided to try.
I was still as jumpy as a cat in a dog kennel five
months after the change when Cecily, the Director of Manufacturing Processes
appeared at my desk one morning. One of the newcomers, a transfer from another
division, stood behind her.
He was a tall
lanky man with a mop of brown hair over a long narrow face slightly marked by
long-ago acne and warm brown eyes.
“Allison, we
need your help. This is Peter. I don’t think you’ve met.” She waved at him,
briefly, but didn’t wait, “Adam and Dave want us to revamp our technical
procedures, make them more consistent so they’re easier to follow.
“Peter is our
new document control specialist, and he has some ideas but needs help
implementing them, standardizing everything. He thinks templates might be best,
and I’m hoping you can lend a hand.”
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