Caught In The Act. Gayle Roper
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almost waist-length hair back in August.
Sighing, I gave up on my hair. I stared instead at the Christmas candle sitting on the vanity.
Christmas. My first in Amhearst, and I was facing it with some excitement (two men) but also with much misgiving. For the first time ever, I wouldn’t be with my family for our warm and wonderful celebration. No fat Christmas tree with Grandma Kramer’s heirloom angel gracing the top bough. No hot mulled cider that Dad tried to foist on everyone. No marvelous turkey smells and no Aunt Sissy’s famous pumpkin pie.
Jolene would have a warm, cozy family Christmas with hugs and presents and all that stuff. She wouldn’t sit alone all day, staring at her cat. That would be me.
Every time I thought about my holiday solitude, I suffered mild depression. As a result my little apartment on the first floor of an old carriage house sported only a wreath on the door. I hadn’t gotten myself a tree or put electric candles in my windows like everyone else in Amhearst. Of course I now had a silk poinsettia sitting on an end table.
It was my job that prevented a trip to Pittsburgh and home. I had only Christmas Day off, if being on call means “off.”
“Someone has to be available in case a big story breaks,” said Mac, my editor at The News. Then he grinned. “I guess you’ve drawn the short straw, Merry.” He didn’t even feel sorry for me.
I kept telling myself that I didn’t mind. I was an independent career woman, pressing on with my new life. I didn’t believe myself for an instant. But, I reminded myself before I started weeping on the spot, I was the one with two men!
Not that I needed or wanted two. One would certainly be more than enough since monogamy was my preferred lifestyle. I just had to decide which one.
“Hey!” Jolene said as she came out of a stall. “You’re smiling. Which one are you thinking about?”
“Not telling.” I swung my purse strap back onto my shoulder and slammed the bag itself into the blonde woman walking out of the other stall.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
She smiled at me, her gray eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry about it. It’s o—”
Her voice faded to nothing, and her face lost its pleasant smile. She stared past me with a sudden look of great distaste. I blinked and turned to see what she was looking at, and there stood Jolene. Her face had also lost all its charm and warmth.
“Well, well,” Jo said. “Look who’s here.”
“Hello, Jo,” the woman said in a tight, tense voice. “How are you? And how’s Arnie?”
“We’re both fine.” Jolene matched icy politeness for icy politeness. I could get frostbite just standing here.
“Tell him I said hello,” the woman said.
“Like he cares,” Jolene spat the words like little pellets flying from a straw to land stinging blows on the back of an unsuspecting neck.
The woman sighed in disgust. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
Jolene bristled. “Watch it, Airy. I don’t like being in the same room with you any more than you like being in the same room with me.”
My eyes widened. I am Polly Peacemaker, and if I’m caught in conflict, I never know what to do. But it appeared I was the only one uncomfortable here. These two women were obviously sluggers, though Jo was clearly batting champ.
“Believe me,” Airy said, “if I’d known you were going to be here, I’d have avoided Ferretti’s at all costs.”
Jolene, face haughty, sniffed. “My coworker and I were having a business lunch.”
Airy sneered. “Don’t give me that snotty attitude about your job, Jolene. People at your level don’t have business lunches.”
Jolene glared. “You just think you’re so smart.”
I looked at Jolene, disappointed. Certainly she could do better than that worn-out old line.
“Tell me.” Airy’s voice dripped acid. “Which of us graduated valedictorian? Um? It certainly wasn’t you.”
What? At twenty-five years old or so, she was bringing up high school? What was next? Elementary school jealousies?
“Like test grades show intelligence,” Jolene scoffed with a wonderful disregard for the entire educational system. “I’d rather have my social smarts than your boring IQ any day.”
“You used to be nice, you know.” Airy nodded slightly as if agreeing with herself. “Up until about third grade. It’s been downhill ever since.”
Yikes, I thought. Elementary school.
“And you’ve been jealous of me ever since.”
“Oh, pu-lease! I’d kill myself before I ever became like you.”
A woman pushed the ladies’ room door open and froze halfway in, caught by the nastiness of the voices. She locked eyes with me for the briefest of seconds, then withdrew, condemnation in every line of her body.
Not me, I wanted to tell her. I’m an innocent bystander. I know better. I have class.
Jolene and Airy hadn’t even noticed her. They were too busy pouring out a lifetime of vituperation.
Suddenly Jolene turned sly. “By the way, Airy, how’s Sean?”
All color drained from Airy’s face. “Don’t you even mention his name,” she hissed. “Don’t you even think about him.”
Jolene just smiled. If I’d been Airy, I’d have been tempted to sock her one for her arrogance.
“How do you like his new mustache?” Jolene asked innocently. “I think it makes him look quite debonair, don’t you?”
“His new mus—How do you—?” Airy was so angry that she was sputtering. And scared? She shut her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Then she said in an urgent, passionate voice, “Sean is off-limits to you. Don’t you ever, ever come near him.”
“Oops. You mean I shouldn’t have had lunch with him yesterday?”
Airy looked as if she had turned to stone. She didn’t even appear to draw breath.
Jolene did everything but smack her lips at the reaction she had gotten. “Why don’t you just settle for Arnie? You and he would make a great pair. The leftovers.” And she turned away.
Airy reached out and grabbed Jolene’s arm and spun her around. Jo blinked in surprise. The guppy was taking on the shark.
“I mean it, Jo. Stay away from Sean. You may have taken Arnie away from me once upon a time, but not Sean. Not Sean! He’s mine.”
Jolene raised an eyebrow and looked down her perfect nose. “Only if you can keep him, sweetie.” She shook Airy’s hand from her arm as if she was flicking garbage off a plate and strode out of the room.
I was left staring at my toes, unsure what to do. What did one say to the loser in a catfight? It was one of life’s little lessons that Mom, usually so good at preparing me, had neglected.
I heard a soft sigh and glanced up. Airy looked so sad.
“I’m sorry,” I said, even though I had nothing to do with any of it.
Airy nodded and smiled weakly. “You’d think I’d have learned to deal with her by now, wouldn’t you? I mean, I’ve known her since I was four years old. Princess Jo.”
She pulled a packet of tissues from her purse and wiped ineffectively at her nose.
“Merry Christmas,” she said and walked out without looking back.
When I left the ladies’ room, I looked to see if Airy was still in the restaurant. She wasn’t