Definitely Against Policy, page 8
“It is.” Eli hung his head and shuffled his feet. “Even more horrible than my problem with underwear. You can’t go in there.”
“I don’t need the toilet. I have to wash my fucking hands.”
“It’s not safe.”
“That’s fucking silly, Klassen. We both know what I touched. Get out of my way!”
Eli shook his head. “No. I won’t.”
Stephen went for a body check, but Eli ducked and shoved him with speed borne by years of fighting with older brothers. Stephen shoved him back and was eyeing his jaw and balling his hand into a fist when the bathroom door swung open as if pushed by a sudden draft. Visible from Eli’s vantage, a toe disappeared into the vanity cabinet.
Stephen stayed his hand. “May I?” he asked sarcastically.
“If you insist.” Eli gestured like a maître d. “Just remember what I said. Don’t use the toilet.”
Stephen took several minutes to wash his hands. Decontamination process complete, he grabbed his jacket.
“You’re not going to help me with the table?” asked Eli.
“You can handle it. I’ve got stuff to do. Keep my suggestion in mind, Klassen. We can define the terms when you’ve had a chance to think.” As he left, he stooped and hooked the waistband of the underwear with his pinky to take with him. “Evidence,” he said.
Once Stephen left, Eli returned to the washroom to give the all-clear. Mary was already unfolding herself from the cabinet.
“Colonitis fecosis?” She giggled.
“It’s a grave condition. Very rare.” Eli grinned and offered her a hand up.
“You’re full of shit.”
“You could say that.”
Chapter Seven
Eli dropped by the Hill Realty office on Monday morning. If Stephen had cranked up the rumor mill, he had to retaliate immediately. He climbed the stairs two at a time, passed through the corridor that Hill Realty shared with a law practice and a psychic therapist, and entered the office. He expected to find Mary’s desk vacant. Instead, a blond girl greeted him. Eli pretended not to notice that she was gorgeous, an eleven out of ten, with a Dolly Parton bosom in a clingy sweater.
“You must be Eli?” she said in a little girl’s voice.
“I am,” Eli smiled.
“My Aunt Claudia told me all about you. I’m Felicity.” She extended her hand over the desk.
“So that’s why my ears were burning.” Eli shook her hand. “Welcome, Felicity.”
“Your ears?”
“It’s an old expression. When people talk about you when you’re not present, your ears burn. Or so they say.”
“Cool.”
“Is this your first day?”
“Yes. I was supposed to start next week, but Aunt Claudia mentioned a human resources emergency?”
Was that a question? If Felicity wanted the goods on Mary, she was fishing in the wrong pond. “It’s good to have your help on such short notice,” Eli said evenly.
She curled a strand of shiny yellow hair around her finger. “Aunt Claudia told me I should connect with you.”
“Did she?” Eli scratched the back of his head, and to his dismay, Felicity mistook his stalling gesture as flirtation.
“To show me the ropes?” she added sweetly. “Train me in the art of sales?”
He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Your Uncle Stephen and Aunt Claudia have more experience than I do.”
Felicity pouted. “Uncle Stephen isn’t here today, and I’d rather learn from someone closer in age. You know…peer to peer?”
For Christ’s sake. What had Claudia told this poor girl? What was she playing at? Saddling him with a spy? Scheming to replace Mary at In-Spire? Recruiting a harem for him? Even without Felicity as a tagalong, his performance at work was suffering, and he was damn sure Claudia would have something to say about that.
“Pretty please?” Felicity peered at him through caterpillar lashes and bit her cherry-red lip.
“You have a lot of responsibility here at reception,” said Eli. “First you should learn this job.”
“And then I can learn from you,” Felicity squeaked.
Before he could temper her enthusiasm, she said, “I think my aunt mentioned she wanted to see you? In her office?”
“All right. Please let her know I’m here.”
Felicity looked confused.
“With your phone. The big black one on your desk.”
She bestowed a patronizing smile on him. “Why would I do that, Eli?”
“In case she’s busy now and she doesn’t want to be interrupted.”
Felicity rolled her eyes as if exasperated by a dull-witted child. “You work here, don’t you? Can’t you knock on her door and ask her yourself?”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed. “You have enough on your plate as it is.”
****
Claudia had the drawn look of a mother who’d been up all night with a sick baby. The truth of the matter wasn’t far off. Elbows on her desk, she cradled her chin on interwoven fingers and regarded Eli with droopy eyes, beige makeup unsuccessfully concealing the dark, pouched flesh beneath them.
“First things first,” she said. “You’ve met our niece, Felicity?”
Eli nodded. “A pleasant girl. Perfect for reception.”
“Do you think so?” Claudia forced a smile. “I think she might be helpful at In-Spire.”
“And leave the front desk unstaffed?” He fidgeted. “I hope you won’t consider this inappropriate—”
“Speak frankly, Eli.”
He leaned forward and spoke in a confidential tone. “Your niece is a very beautiful girl, Claudia. And congenial. The ideal representative for Hill Realty—at the reception desk here. Much better than Mary in that client-facing role.” Was he laying it on too thick?
“She’s something else, isn’t she? If we’d been blessed with a daughter, I’d have hoped for a girl like Felicity.” Claudia settled back in her chair. “She’s a psych major, catching up on a couple of courses she missed, but quite brilliant. It isn’t business admin, but it’s a practical degree in other ways. She’s miles ahead of the pack in understanding people, and I don’t have to remind you how crucial that is in our business.”
Eli had no ready comment. Thankfully, Claudia filled the silence with a wink and a knowing smile. “If you promise to behave, I’ll let Felicity shadow you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Eli.
“Nonsense. I insist. She can get a feel for the business and help you entertain investors.”
If said investors could tolerate her high-pitched voice and brainless questions. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready for an intern,” he agreed noncommittally.
“That brings me to the second matter.” Claudia’s jaw clenched briefly and her lips formed a straight pencil line. “Mary Rose. Stephen says you’re struggling to get the office up and running. How’s her performance? Be honest.”
Honestly? Spectacular. The grip on that soft hand. Eli coughed nervously. “Exceeding expectations. Mary’s diligent, keen to learn. It’s my fault we’re behind schedule. I’ve—had a lot on my plate.” Wincing, he averted his eyes as if in turmoil. He had to think of a fast excuse for his slow progress. Dead cousin? Car accident? Kitchen fire?
“I know. Stephen told me.” Claudia put her hand across the desk, palm up. Eli swallowed hard and placed his hand over hers to accept her comfort. “It must be so hard for you,” she soothed.
Eli nodded. He didn’t dare look up.
She stroked his hand. “I can’t imagine how awful it is. To suffer from such a serious condition and try to hide it. My sister had colitis. Went from a hundred forty down to ninety-five pounds. And the cramping.” Claudia clutched her abdomen with her free hand. “The diarrhea! Stephen told me you’re incontinent.”
So Stephen hadn’t told her about the underwear. Eli snatched his hand back and shook a virile fist in the air. “I’m feeling better now. Much stronger.”
“That’s my Eli. Putting on a brave face. If there’s anything you ever need, anything I can do…”
“Thank you, Claudia,” Eli said solemnly. “That means a lot.”
“You’re younger than I am, but you’re so wise, like an old kindred soul.”
Oh no. She was corralling him.
“Listen to me. I sound like Jonquil.” Claudia sighed and gave her head a vigorous shake. “I realize you were feeling sick at the time, but how did you find Stephen yesterday?”
“Uh…normal?”
“Normal. Not wound up? Pupils like saucers and talking a mile a minute?”
“No, not that I noticed.”
Claudia crossed her arms and sniffed away the threat of tears. “Okay. Maybe it was an isolated incident, but he came home late last night, hours after he said he’d return, and made the wild claim that he’s going to earn seven figures this year—this with a gross income of precisely zero dollars for the first quarter.”
“Maybe he will,” said Eli. “It’s not uncommon in real estate.”
“Not for you and not for me. But Stephen? I’m worried, Eli. He’s super confident. So grandiose. He bought himself a Rolex.”
“I’ll watch him and if I see any signs—”
“Thank you,” Claudia whispered.
Eli reached for her tissue box and passed one to her. She dabbed away a tear, careful not to smear her perfectly applied mascara.
“I could use a hug,” she said.
Claudia went to him, and Eli held her as requested. When her hand strayed down his back, he slid out of her embrace as kindly as he could. Not kindly enough, for Claudia turned to the window and didn’t speak. Anything he said would hurt her more.
He’d resorted to a series of ridiculous lies to protect Mary’s honor. If he didn’t play his lousy hand with more skill, all three Hills would line up against him like a three-soldier firing squad. His job didn’t matter—he could join a different agency—but In-Spire, his reputation, and his future with Mary mattered.
****
Mary separated her wet laundry into two dryers, one for jeans and towels and the other for light items, pushed coins into the payment mechanisms, and set the temperatures. Despite a locked entrance, thievery was rampant in the building—even ratty, “theft-proof” garments sometimes vanished—and she preferred to camp out on a folding chair rather than leave the laundry room and risk the disappearance of her things. She’d brought a book, Applied Epistemology, but it bored her senseless, and soon she found herself mesmerized by the swirling colors of her clothing tumbling behind tempered glass.
As she stared into the drums, ideas mixed and folded in myriad variations in her brain. The sight of a striped stocking lodged between the glass and the rubber seal and flapping in the circular wind struck her like a Zen master’s paddle. At once, the title for her dissertation blinked into her head as if its words lit a marquee in flashing bulbs.
Territories of Desire and Greed: Marking the Border Between Amorality and Immorality
She had a theme that was rich with potential. Mary couldn’t wait to get started on her proposal. She pulled her phone out of the pouch of her hoodie and put together a rudimentary outline to send to Gabriel. This topic was right up his alley. Best of all, she was one step closer to investigating it from the real-world perspective of Eli’s bed.
****
For three full days, Mary labored on her proposal. At last, as the streetlights flicked on outside the living room window, she clicked Send and her file landed in Gabriel’s inbox. She received an immediate reply that he was away from his office until later in the week and checking email infrequently. Whatever.
Mary often felt hollow after completing important, difficult work. From grant applications to articles, a writer could always improve something, a fact that pestered her until she received feedback. This proposal had to clear a high bar.
She stretched, rose from her chair, and stretched again. “Sent!” she proclaimed.
Dominic emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on a tea towel. “Well done!”
“Alas, that’s not for you nor I to judge.”
“Did you do your best?”
“Yes.” Of this, she was certain.
“Then I say ‘Huzzah, Mary Rose. Well done!’ You should celebrate.”
“I think we have a little wine left in the box.”
“Mary, Mary, Mary. That will not do.” Dominic crossed his arms and slowly shook his head. “After you, the person who’ll be most pleased by this momentous achievement is Eli. You must call him and share your glad tidings. He’ll want to celebrate with you.”
“Okay. Where should I tell him to meet us?”
“Not us. Just the two of you. And he knows the best places, so let him decide.” Dominic picked up her phone and handed it to her.
“You sure? You’ve been bringing me tea and sandwiches for days.”
“That, my dear, is another reason why I can’t tag along. I’ve been stuck on the Mary Rose channel twenty-four seven, and I need some man time.”
Mary smiled and hugged him. “Thank you, Dominic.”
****
An hour later, she stood at the curb of the semicircular driveway in front of the building to save Eli the trouble of parking. He pulled up in his BMW and she hopped in.
“You didn’t let me open the door for you.” He laughed.
“Are we on a date or something?”
“Feels like it.” Eli put the car in gear, and they drove onto St. Dunstan’s Avenue.
He had to merge into the tail end of rush-hour traffic, and he kept his eyes on the road, which afforded Mary the liberty of an admiring stare. He wore a sweater and jeans—and he wore them well.
“Are you hungry?” Eli asked as he signaled and changed lanes.
“Yes. Starving.” She’d eaten her last peanut butter and jelly sandwich hours ago.
“Me too. Do you like sushi?”
“Yes.” Like it? She loved it.
“Then we’ll head down to my neighborhood. I know a good place. Friendly, and the fish is fresh.”
Eli turned onto Main and risked a long look at an old, yellow brick building. “That’s the Buttonville Lofts,” he said. “It’s a repurposed button factory. I think they did zippers and hook fasteners too.”
The late Victorian edifice took up the entire block. Some of its tall windows were curtained, and others shone in a warm suppertime glow, but most of the windows were dark. “It’s half empty,” said Mary.
“Or half full and filling quickly. We’re a stone’s throw from the university and this old industrial district is gentrifying. They have fantastic promo material.” He zipped round the corner to view the building’s south flank. “You should invest.”
“Me? I have student loans. Overdue bills. An empty wallet,” argued Mary. “I don’t even know where I’ll be in five years.”
“Details, details. The carrying costs for a Buttonville studio are less than your rent and you’d build some equity in an appreciating asset.”
“Eli, even if I could scrape together a down payment, no bank would give me a mortgage. The only lender who would take me seriously is a guy named Guido who enforces his terms with a crowbar.”
“You’re wrong, Mary. You just have to think creatively.”
“The lottery?”
“Co-investors. Or rent to own.” Eli did a quick U-turn. “We’ll come back another day.”
“Will we?”
“We will.” He glanced sideways at her and offered a heart-melting smile. “Now tell me all about the proposal you submitted.”
It had to be bad luck to discuss her work before it was approved, but she couldn’t help herself. Eli encouraged her with an occasional “Really?” and a “That’s so fascinating!” as she held forth on the topic of desire and greed. A half-hour later, he parked the car, and Mary wondered if the gods of academia would overlook her temptation of fate.
Chapter Eight
Although it was only a dress rehearsal and not an introduction to the true Klassen family, Eli felt nervous as he walked hand in hand with Mary from the parking lot to the Takamatsu Sushi Bar. He wanted Yuka and Kenji Ikeda to like her and for her to like them.
He paused as they neared the restaurant and turned to Mary. “You’re about to meet two special people. I told them about you, though I didn’t tell them we were coming tonight, in case you didn’t like sushi. Which you do. So here we are.” Did he sound nervous?
“Like the movie, ‘Meet the Parents’?” Mary joked.
Perceptive. “Uh, yeah…kind of… Listen—maybe it’s too soon. If you’d rather go somewhere else—”
“Eli, I want to eat here. With you. You’ve met Dominic and we survived, barely, and I’d like to meet your friends.”
She reached up and straightened his jacket collar, though it didn’t need it, a small intimacy that touched him. Eli took Mary’s hand again and they passed through the sliding doors and navy curtains.
“Irashaimase!” Ikeda’s face lit in surprise, and he smiled and bowed deeply to Mary. “Welcome to Takamatsu.” Before Mary could respond, he called, “Yuka! Eri-kun is here.”
“Ask him if he wants inarizushi with his soba,” Yuka called back.
“He says he does,” replied Ikeda. He put a finger to his lips, then gestured to the stools at the corner of the bar.
Thusly perched, they waited in silent smiles. A minute later, Yuka appeared with a large bowl. “What? Two of you! Eri-kun! You should have told me we have a special guest,” she scolded, then set the bowl in front of Mary.
“I thought I’d surprise you,” said Eli. “This is Mary.”
“So you are real girl! I thought Eri-kun was lying to make me stop asking why he’s single. And you’re so pretty, too. I’ll get tea. Or sake is better? Do you know how to use chopsticks? Oh—I forgot.” She bowed. “Welcome to Takamatsu. I’m Yuka.”
“Thank you, Yuka,” said Mary. “I’m not very skilled with chopsticks.”
A half-truth to appeal to Yuka’s maternal impulses and draw her in? It worked, for Yuka sat on the stool next to Mary and smiled in a nurturing way. “I show you. First, you break them apart.” When Eli asked about his food, Yuka pretended to be cross. “You must wait. Ladies first.”
