Worth

Chapter 11 (Pt. 1)

"Animal, mineral or vegetable? Olivia asked by way of answering the phone call from Violet.

"A total nightmare."

"That bad? What happened?"

"What didn't? Oh, Liv!"

There was the sound of Lee shouting something in the background and Olivia covering the receiver so as not to yell in Violet's ear. "If anyone's going to retire early around here, it'll be me! I actually work for a living instead of taking clients to lunch all day. Hang on, she hasn't said yet." Her attention returned to her sister. "So what was it, a Leg Lamp? Did they force you to adopt someone?"

"I don't know what he left me. It's being delivered."

"You sound like you're going to cry. Was it Jimmy-James?"

"Is it possible to like the right person for the right reasons and be completely wrong?"

"Well let's concentrate on the word 'right' for a second." Violet groaned and whimpered at the same time. Olivia said, "Nothing's foolproof. Otherwise, we'd never get a laugh."

Violet poured out a heart's worth of details about the murder mystery weekend as she lived it. Olivia dutifully weighed in on and agreed with Violet's perceptions: The stalwart worthiness of James, the indulgent self-righteousness of John, the careful intentions of Leo and the shallowness of his family, specifically the villainous Elsa and the Dragon What Bore Her, and the semi-enjoyable ridiculousness of being simultaneously pursued and outcast. But on the subject of her biased attraction to one man versus her instinctual emotional draw to another, Olivia could not fix an opinion.

"But that kiss," she kept saying.

"I know," Violet sighed.

"A real date with James is the only way to clear this up."

"But I haven't told you where it is!"

Violet was a little surprised that James hadn't called. She had expected to hear from him and a week later it was almost as though she'd imagined him. Of course, she had proof she hadn't. Olivia had sent her a link to a news article featuring a bunch of suits mingling with the locals at an opening of a new community playground. Uncredited, three rows back and partially obscured by the elongated foam finger of a "We're Number 1!"glove worn by a volunteer builder from the sponsoring hardware chain, was James.  He must have been unprepared for the snap, so serious and nasty was the look on his face. Even in this most unwilling mug shot, he was a most attractive scowler. No one could tell from this picture how sensitive he was beneath his taciturn manner, or how he put himself out trying to make others look or feel better. Most others. Maybe he was just too busy, Violet reasoned. Maybe his candidate was a task master who kept him running between union meetings and ribbon ceremonies, or an imbecile who needed covering up with the press. If James was not being hounded by or placating journalists, then perhaps the requirements of his job simply took up more time than someone like her might realize.

One problem was that Violet had no intention of calling herself to find out. Another problem was she was beginning to forget anything interesting he had said at length, or worse, thinking up anything he might. When a few more days passed, Elizabeth called with the address of the party and said, "James won't leave me alone. He wants to make sure you're coming. My own brother is only coming to my birthday party for you." Violet began to imagine him looking forward to their meeting again as some light at the end of a grueling tunnel. She did not ask Elizabeth whether John would be attending the party. She knew the answer.

Ed Edmunds was patient with Violet's distraction. In fact, these days he was off-puttingly patient. Could Violet take his three o'clock appointment? No. She was already booked. Usually he'd try and order her to keep the smaller party waiting, but this time he cancelled his golf game. Would Violet mind picking up his dry cleaning? Yes, she would. Here, where Ed would usually rant about how she manipulated the labour laws, he instead paid a cab company to drive his laundry over. Did Violet use his cappuccino machine? Yes, but only for a client. Not only did Ed not plug the thing in at her desk so both could judge if its functionality was intact, but he wiped it down and brewed them both a cup.