Unravelled (9 page)

“Good evening, Alex.”

“Good evening, Earl. How are you tonight?” I pull at my jacket and try to pull my boobs in, but then decide to just let it be. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

“My dear, I am ready to be impressed. By the rumours doing the rounds in town, you’ve been really busy.” He sits down and pours himself a glass of blackberry juice. My favourite. “You look very beautiful tonight. Would you like a glass of juice?”

“Thank you, Earl.” Oh, what a relief! If an older man thinks I look beautiful, then maybe I am not inappropriately dressed. Earl lifts a glass of juice towards me in question. “Oh, no thank you. Fate has been malicious towards me lately and would most likely tip the whole glass on me just to have some more fun at my expense.” I sit down at the head of the table and fold my hands on my lap. I am so proud of my restraint.

This draws a chuckle out of the big man and he leans back in his chair. He is about to say something else when George and Jeremy walk into the room together. Greetings go all around and once again I find George to be an obnoxious chauvinist. My restraint changes focus from not drinking blackberry juice to not being rude to the real estate man.

“How does the little lady find our town?” He doesn’t sit down, but towers over me beaming an insincere smile. I match it with my own insincere smile.

“I haven’t had time to see much of the town, except for the parts that will be involved in the festival. But, from what I’ve seen it is a friendly place.” I aim my last comment to Jeremy and Earl and hope that the property sales guy will read into it everything I meant but didn’t say. He seems to get the hint and takes a seat at the far end of the table. It’s now getting dangerously close to seven thirty and
Mr Wall Street
is nowhere to be seen. I find it interesting how important it is for me that he’s here tonight and that I feel the need for his presence, but prefer to not ponder upon it. Not that I have the opportunity to.

All friendly thoughts and conversations come to a grinding halt when Ms Venom walks through the door surrounded by an electric ice storm. She looks exactly like Juan would love for me to look and I think that I might give her some competition tonight after my careful preparation at home. From her designer shoes to her understated pearl earrings, she is the cover girl for successful dressing. I feel the need for my ‘confident’ pose, but stop halfway when the button of my jacket pulls even tighter.

Instead of pushing my shoulders back, which automatically pushes my boobs out, I pull them forward and start breathing very shallowly so as to not put any additional pressure on these buttons. I’m only wearing a bra under this jacket and really don’t need the committee to see which undergarments I chose to wear today. It is the most beautiful lacy bra which pushes up in the right places and... that’s it! That is why my jacket is tighter! When I bought this suit, I didn’t wear this push-up bra that gives me the most amazing cleavage. The thought of my cleavage makes me want to look down and appreciate it, but Zondra and her ice storm walks past me which in turn makes me want to jump into a combative Kung Fu position.

“Good evening.” Even her words are icy. She walks around the table and seats her perfect self in the chair next to Jeremy and to the left of George. After a quick look around the room, she turns her icy glare on me. “Is Mr Montgomery going to join us?”

“As far as I know.” Where is that blasted man? I sent Ray out with the order to not return without Mr Wall Street and he has been outside on the phone trying to locate him. Now I have to explain his absence to Ms North pole. “Have a glass of blackberry juice while we wait for another few minutes, Zondra.” I hope she spills on her perfect little suit.

I know I’m being petty, but even looking as good as I do tonight, I do not appreciate her speaking down her perfectly straight nose at me. Something in this woman re-awakens a side in me that I’ve worked very hard to control, and at this moment am working really hard to prevent from resurfacing.

“Thank you, I think I will.” She pours and takes a few sips of the juice without spilling a drop. Some people have all the gods’ favour. “Tell me, dear, do you a little plan for us tonight?”

“I...” My stabbing retort is fortunately interrupted by the entrance of Ray and Mr Wall Street. I’m so happy to see them, that I can feel my face light up and when I realise this I put a frown on my face. I don’t want Mr Wall Street to think that he is important to me.

“I am sure you will find Ms Field’s little plan sufficient, Zondra.” Mr Wall Street, my hero.

“Well, I’ve heard so much buzz around town that I can’t wait to hear what Alex has in store for us.” Earl, my hero.

Everyone is seated now and I start the meeting with the presentation I created on my computer. I show them the plans of the dairy, talk about all the work that is needed on the buildings and the grounds before I initiate a brainstorming session. Mr Wall Street planted himself next to me at the head of the table and interrupts me every now and then to add something that he knows would be of interest to the members. I can feel his body heat when he leans closer to point at something on the computer. It makes my heart beat faster and I have to work really hard to maintain my focus on the presentation. Not that it is difficult. I find myself enjoying doing this presentation with
Mr Wall Street
, and almost feel like forgiving him for being five minutes late.

“I’ve had a really good response from the ad in my pub. A lot of people are willing to take guests in for a bit of extra cash.” We are talking about the accommodation issue now and Earl gives us the names of the people who volunteered their homes. “But I don’t think it will be enough. Last year’s accommodation was a really big problem and we had people camping in the church grounds.”

“Reverend Jade expressly asked us to avoid that situation this year, which means that we need more beds. Any suggestions?” When I heard about the accommodation fiasco last year, I decided to speak to Reverend Jade who pleaded with me to be the miracle worker he heard I was. Apparently some of the ‘campers’ were so destructive that there was almost nothing left of the church garden and their facilities were left in a disastrous condition.

“I have a few houses that are empty. If we can get some beds from the school hostel or the hospital, we could set it up as guest houses. The money we make from this could go to the school and the hospital for the use of their beds.” Well, give me sideburns and call me Elvis. George, the hostile chauvinist real-estate mogul, has just offered something helpful. And altruistic.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” I manage to stop my mouth from dropping open in wonder, grab onto the idea and my brain starts working it. “How would we get the school and hospital involved?”

“I have contacts in the school and hospital.” I’m not surprised that the property man is well-connected. “I’ll speak to them and get back to you about the number of beds available. If it is acceptable to everyone, I’m willing to take over the accommodation arrangements.”

We all agree that George is the right man for the job and we talk a bit longer about the accommodation. I must’ve done something right tonight, because the man who just offered his help and the man who walked into this room earlier are not the same person. A little sliver of hope start to break through into this darkness – maybe, just maybe, this will turn out to be a success.

I’m not surprised at the help that Earl and Jeremy offer – they’ve already done a lot in the last few days. Everyone, except Zondra, is in agreement that converting the dairy is our best option and we stay at this point for quite a while since there is so much work to be done in such a short amount of time. Yet everything I say Zondra has a counter argument why it wouldn’t work.

“Zondra, what is wrong with having the opening ball in a converted barn? I think it is very original.” Earl asks in a tone that is a bit harsher than any I’ve heard him use so far.

“Of course you would think it is original, Earl.” It’s clear to all of us that she’s implying that Earl is either simple, common or easily impressed. Whichever of those it is, her tone and response is extremely offensive. Even Ray is beginning to look angry now. This comment leads to a biting retort from George which leads to a cold comment from Earl and I can see this could escalate into something that would destroy everything we’ve achieved so far. I wish for my police whistle, but cleverly didn’t pack it in case I might be tempted to use it tonight. Mr Wall Street is surprisingly quiet next to me, and I decide to not wait for him to wait till there’s blood against the walls before something is done.

“Enough.” I say in my mother’s voice. “Zondra, do you have a better place in mind?” I look her straight in the eye as I ask my question quietly.

“Any other place would be better.”

“But, do you have a better place in mind?”

“This place is just...so...plebeian.”

“Zondra, you’re not answering my question.” I’m having fun now and ask my question again very slowly using the tone that Mr Wall Street has used on me a few times – the one for old people and small children. “Do you have a better place in mind?”

“No, I don’t. But you’re the little miracle worker who should find us a better place.”

“Zondra, you’re being petty.” Now Mr Wall Street speaks up. It only took him three thousand years. “You know that we don’t have that many places available in this town and with the job that we handed Ms Fields, I think she’s done a remarkably well.”

This draws strong agreements from Jeremy, Earl and Ray and even George is nodding his head. I’m willing to forgive
Mr Wall Street
a few things after all his verbal support tonight, but I am at a total loss as to how I can get Zondra’s co-operation.

“Well, if we have to, I suppose the stinky farm would have to do. Just don’t expect me to go there before it is totally cleaned up.”

I don’t even dignify that with a response, but use her last comment to take us to the realistic problem of cleaning that horrid place up. That takes up another half an hour and before I know it, it’s eleven o’clock and I’m so tired, I can barely keep my stomach and my boobs pulled in. Thankfully we’ve discussed the most important points and decide that anything else can be emailed. By the time everyone’s left the conference room and I’m walking down the passage with my laptop, I’m dreaming of a long bubble bath and that heavenly bed in my cottage. That particular dream explodes in Hollywood-like fashion when I reach my car.

“That’s it. For as long as you’re working on this project, you will be using a company car.” Mr Wall Street’s voice makes me jump.

“It is only a flat tire.” I stare at it, too tired to be upset.

“Only!” The word shoots from his mouth and ricochets around the inside of his luxury sedan a few times before it explodes in my inner ear. “Are you blind?! That heap is an accident waiting to happen. How an intelligent woman can insist on driving that car is beyond me.”

“It has character.”

“Character?” He says something under his breath which I never expected to come out of his mouth and I turn to him in surprise. “That car does not have character, Alex. It has reached its expiry date and for any normal car owner that would mean a new car, not a new door and a new tire.”

“But I like Bomb.” I have no idea why I am defending my decision to keep my car – no one ever understands my attachment to the car.

“Hmph!” is the very eloquent response I get from Mr Wall Street, who only drives cars that still smell new. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

I can do nothing but accept his reluctant offer and within three minutes we are on our way home. We sit in silence for a while and I can feel something is brewing in that head of his, and once again he surprises me with something I would never have expected.

“You will be driving this car from now on.”

“This car? Have you lost your mind?” I mean, really! “You trust me driving this car?”

“No, I don’t trust your driving, but I would not have you stranded somewhere and not able to do your job because of a car with character.” He says the last three words with the distaste that only a man can have for these kinds of things.

“That’s so sweet of you to care.” My voice drips with sarcasm.

“Oh, I care. There’s a lot at stake for my company with this festival. It needs to be a success and if it means I have to pay extra insurance premiums because you are driving my car, then I’ll do it.”

My bubble bath dream rushes down the drain and all my pent up anger at Bomb, Ray,
Erin
and Zondra bursts forth. “You are insufferable! How
Erin
ever became friends with you I will never understand.”

I jump out of the car as soon as he stops in front of the house. I slam his car door as hard as I can and turn to give him a Field’s stare. He takes his time getting out of the car and slowly turns to me, by which time I’m fuming and my stare has turned into a glare which I hope he can feel. He lifts his eyebrow slightly at me, mocking my anger.

“I will leave the keys in the car tomorrow morning. Please try to be careful.” And without even a blink he turns around and walks into the house, leaving me glaring holes in his back that he no doubt doesn’t feel through that thick skin of his.

I pull my shoulders back in readiness for combat, take a deep breath to give him a piece of my mind, and this is the exact moment when the pressure becomes just too much for my jacket and the button shoots off as if from a shotgun. The sudden freedom of my chest takes the wind out my sails and the strength out of my many retorts.