Cooper raised her magazine to partially block her face and watched Cindi and Trish. She was so absorbed in their instant camaraderie that she barely noticed Minnie scraping away skin from her other foot. Before she knew it, Minnie had rinsed Cooper's feet and pulled the plug in the tub.
As the water disappeared down the drain, Cooper grew worried. Trish hadn't even begun to interrogate Cindi. "Am I done already?"
"No. We at good part now," Minnie said, brandishing a bottle of pink lotion. "You sit back and relax. I turn on chair for you."
Minnie reached for a remote control dangling from the side of Cooper's chair and pressed two buttons. Immediately, the cushions behind Cooper's back began to churn in a soft, motorized purr. Leaning deeper into the chair, Cooper sighed as the padded knobs circled around her back. She watched Minnie as the skilled technician squirted a line of pink lotion on Cooper's left leg and then spread the cream from her kneecap to the tips of her toes. Cooper closed her eyes as Minnie began to rub and knead the muscles of her calf.
The combination of the chair massage and leg rub caused Cooper to slide into a state of deep relaxation. The magazine slipped from her lap and onto the floor and her thoughts began to wander. As her breathing slowed and Minnie pressed her powerful thumbs into the aching arches of Cooper's feet, she suddenly had a vision of Nathan, hard at work at home, surrounded by his beloved Star Wars figures.
He keeps popping into my head!
she marveled as her shoulders sagged deeper into the chair.
"It feel good?" Minnie asked, pleased.
Cooper's eyes opened lazily and she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be listening to the conversation between Trish and Cindi. "Yes, it
really
does. You're very strong, Minnie. I think you've found muscles in my calves I didn't know I had," she told the young technician and reclaimed her magazine from the floor.
The noise of the drills hovering over Cindi and Trish's nails had ceased and the sound of the women's laughter filled the void. With the exception of a client receiving a manicure, Trish, Cindi, and Cooper were the only patrons in the salon.
"I had the most
annoying
client," Trish was saying loud enough for Cooper to hear. "She called me
all
the time. At home, at work, on my cell. Seriously. I couldn't even get my roots touched up in peace!" Trish flicked her violet eyes in Cooper's direction, as if to alert her conspirator that she was about to get to the heart of the matter with Cindi.
"You're
so
lucky to be an administrative assistant," Trish gushed when she had completed her tirade. "When your day is done, it's done. No one's calling
you
at all hours."
Cindi clearly didn't like being one-upped. She frowned. "Oh, I've had my share of jackasses pesterin' me. This one crazy lady called
every
day for over two months. I'd tell her over and over that there was no problem with her credit card statement, but she wouldn't believe me. Finally, I gave her a number to call my boyfriend over in the IT department and I thought I had finally gotten rid of her."
"What happened?" Trish asked, her fascination only slightly exaggerated.
Cindi looked pleased to have completely captivated Trish's attention with her story. "She actually showed up at my desk with her bill and, get this, an old adding machine! She started adding up her charges right there and then and demanding to see my boss! What a fruitcake!"
Trish uttered a shallow laugh. "She must have been nuts, all right. Did she look like she was
on something?
" Trish lowered her voice. "You know, like
drugs?
"
"Oh no." Cindi waved off the suggestion just as her nail technician tried to apply the first coat of polish. She scowled, but Cindi didn't notice. "She was a tiny, old black woman with glasses as thick as my wrist. I have more designer purses than little ol' Hazel has teeth," she added cruelly.
Trish pretended to shiver at the image, but Cooper knew that the mention of Hazel's name was what had startled her. "What did she want?"
Cindi's face immediately clouded over. "Oh, the usual complaint," she said disinterestedly. "But I know she just didn't want to pay her bill. That's what it always comes down to. I never actually listened to her crazy idea about what was wrong with her statement and I called security as soon as she started yelling at me and shaking her adding machine in my face. Can you imagine?"
"You poor thing!" Trish exclaimed and patted Cindi's thin arm. "And that was that? She never bothered you again?"
Cindi shrugged. "I think she called one more time, but after that she must have given up." She sighed. "What a relief. Her account's closed anyway, so she's got nothing more to complain to
me
about."
"Wow, she must have really gotten mad to have canceled her card. I don't know
what
I'd do without my credit card!" Trish looked horrified by the possibility.
"Me either!" Cindi agreed. "Especially with two kids. They need something
all
the time. New shoes, new coats, sports equipment. More, more, more. They're always asking me to buy something, like I'm some kind of walking ATM."
Trish frowned in bewilderment. "Exactly. So I can't see how that woman could cancel her card. Everyone knows Capital City has the best interest rates."
Smugly, Cindi nodded in agreement. "We
are
the best. But she didn't cancel her card; someone in
our
company canceled it for her. Had to be a bigwig. Lord knows
I
don't have that much power."
Trish and Cooper exchanged glances and then Cooper looked down at her feet. Minnie was applying a topcoat of clear polish over two thick coats of
Dulce de Leche
.
"They're really nice," she told Minnie, surprised at the result. She liked both the shade and the neatness of her evenly filed toenails.
"You have other shoes?" Minnie pointed at Cooper's work boots. "Sandals?"
"I hadn't thought of that," Cooper admitted in dismay. "Will my toes get messed up if I put them back in my shoes?"
Minnie nodded. "We give you some," she assured her client and walked to the back of the salon. By the time she returned with a pair of yellow foam flip-flops, Trish and Cindi had relocated to a new set of chairs stationed at a machine that seemed to dry wet nails using an ultraviolet light.
"Oh, I'm going to my boyfriend's Little League game tomorrow night. He's a coach," Cooper heard Cindi saying as Minnie slipped on the foam flip-flops.
"Me too!" Trish declared. "A good friend of mine is an assistant coach. How funny. Which field is your boyfriend's team playing on?"
"Oh, one of those Tuckahoe fields. There are like twelve of them, so I always have to ask someone where his team is." Cindi abruptly stood up to leave, clearly not wanting to discuss the subject any further. "It was nice chatting with you. I've gotta get my kids from the sitter's."
"We might just run into each other at the baseball field tomorrow. If you see me, don't think I'm stalking you!" Trish teased. "One of my girls has a crush on the pitcher of my friend's team. If I don't bump into you, remember to call me if you have any real estate needs. I'm the best!"
Holding her spread fingers in the air, Cindi smiled and opened the salon door with her hip and exited. Once she was out of sight, Cooper stepped awkwardly down from her pedicure chair and shuffled to the front in order to pay for the service.
"I'll call the Sunrise members," Trish said, joining her. "It's time to learn a bit more about this boyfriend of Cin-di's. Maybe
he's
the bigwig who closed Hazel's account."
"I'll call Nathan, Savannah, and Quinton," Cooper offered. "So you're not on the phone all night."
"That's a deal." Touching her shellacked hair, Trish eyed Cooper's toes. "How did you like your pedicure?"
"I can see why women like it so much. Besides, it was a treat to see you in your element," Cooper said. "You did a great job getting Cindi to talk."
Beaming at the compliment, Trish thanked her, said good-bye, and stepped out of the salon, her heels clicking on the brick walkway leading toward the parking lot. Cooper tried to follow at a similar, brisk pace, but could only shuffle carefully on her paper-thin sandals.
Settling herself into Cherry-O, Cooper noticed the mangled state of the foam slippers. She gingerly removed the temporary flip-flops, tossed them on the passenger seat, and cranked up the stereo. Driving home with the windows down and "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" blaring out of her speaker, Cooper wiggled her bare feet with plea sure.
12
But may the righteous be glad and rejoice before God; may they be happy and joyful.
Psalm 68:3 (NIV)
Thursday arrived with the full glory of spring. Cooper made a quick breakfast of maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal and a banana. She paused for a moment to admire her attractive toenails before pulling on socks and shoes, then grabbed her travel mug and the gift box she had carefully wrapped in Betty Boop paper the night before.
It was May 8, a famous day in history for Truman fans (he was born in 1884), lovers of aviation (the first transatlantic flight took place), and Beatlemaniacs (The Beatles released their
Let It Be
album in the United Kingdom). May 8 was also Angela's birthday, though she would tell no one what year this auspicious event had occurred. Regardless of her age, Angela's fellow employees of Make It Work! always tried to make her feel special on this day as a way of thanking her for being the heart and soul of their company. Mr. Farmer paid for lunch and often bought Angela flowers or a small gift on behalf of all the employees.
Several birthday celebrations ago, Angela had declared that she would like to be surprised for her next birthday with something unexpected, as no one had ever succeeded in surprising her. After that statement, made over four years ago, her coworkers had steadily failed to live up to the task. Angela always seemed to know that they had reserved a private room for a luncheon at Maggiano's, hired a magician, arranged for the Domino's delivery man to arrive with a large pizza pie--upon which Angela's name was spelled out with pieces of pepperoni--or splurged on a day's worth of spa treatments. This year, the gang had decided to buy Angela gifts to celebrate her love of vintage items and Mr. Farmer had promised to order her a cake that would knock her false eyelashes right off.
Excited for the workday to speed along so that she could feast her eyes on this one-of-a-kind confection, Cooper trotted down her apartment stairs to the backyard. Despite her haste to get into the office, she couldn't help but linger a few moments in the garden. Bursting with green, the young vegetables were thriving.
Cooper touched the silky stalk of a tomato plant and straightened its stake a fraction. As she stood in complete peace on the edge of the garden, a soft wind pushed a strand of hair onto her cheek and toyed with the tin pie pans until they swiveled on a slow axis, exchanging sunlit winks. She inhaled the heavenly scents of dew-moistened soil, wet grass, and a mingling of rosemary and thyme coming from the narrow wooden planters on the patio.
"Blessings are all around me," she whispered to the brightening horizon before hopping into Cherry-O.
Driving to work, Cooper listened to her favorite morning radio show,
Breakfast with the Beatles
. She pulled into a parking space just as the final bars of "Hey Jude" were drifting away and felt confident that it was going to be a marvelous day.
Inside the Make It Work! office
,
Mr. Farmer was fussing over Angela's desk, where he was apparently trying to decide where to place a gift bag stuffed with colorful tissue paper.
"Good morning," Cooper greeted her boss.
Mr. Farmer gave her a quick wave and then gestured at the present tucked under Cooper's arm. "How are we going to surprise Angela? She always knows everything that goes on around here. I've made all of the phone calls regarding her cake from my car, but I bet that woman knows the very flavor of the frosting without me saying a word."
Cooper watched her boss as he glanced at the date on Angela's calendar. May 8 had been circled with red ink and Angela had written
MY B-DAY!
on the date in large block letters. Mr. Farmer, who rarely left the sanctuary of his office, stared at the calendar in agitation. His rubbed his hands together as sweat speckled his wrinkled brow, causing his mostly bald head to look even shinier than usual. "No offense, sir, but you're not a very good poker player, are you?"
Mr. Farmer nervously scratched the center of his large, round head where there wasn't so much as a trace of hair and shrugged. "It's me, isn't it? I give it away every time. What should I do different?" He looked so eager to surprise Angela that Cooper took his gift bag from his clammy hand and smiled reassuringly.
"First thing is to hide these presents. The second change we've got to make is for you to leave for the day. You're not supposed to be out of the office and Angela won't expect a sudden absence. She'll be looking for you to be hovering around her desk--something you only do when we're planning some kind of party, sir. Getting you out of Dodge will help with the surprise part."
"I hover? Really?" Mr. Farmer stroked his full cheek in bewilderment. "I could take my laptop to the Starbucks down the road. What else?"
"Well, we always do something to surprise Angela around lunchtime. If we all pretend like today's a regular day, then Angela will think we actually