Cupid's Christmas (12 page)

Morrissey mentioned the names of two players he figured for a lot of promise, and then he asked Lindsay if she could come in at two o’clock for an interview.

“Yes sir,” she answered, “Yes sir, Mister Morrissey. I’ll be there…”

When she hung up the telephone, Lindsay spent twenty minutes on the Rutgers website researching the past four years of football performance and then spent another ten minutes looking at stats for the basketball team in case Morrissey happened to be a fan of that sport also.  When the stats of one season began to collide with stats of another, she turned off the computer and got dressed. Lindsay wore her good navy blue suit. It was wool and a bit warm for the day, but definitely more business-like than anything else she owned. She left the house at five minutes after eleven, but didn’t go directly to the Genius Advertising office—instead she drove to Heavenly Acres Animal Rescue Center.

“I’d like to look into adopting a dog,” Lindsay told the woman behind the counter then she went on to describe the dog she was looking for. Growing more uncertain as to what she’d seen or not seen, Lindsay hedged her words and mentioned that she
thought
she’d seen this particular dog in the Sunday newspaper advertisement.

“Oh,” the woman smiled, “that dog is still here.” She led Lindsay into a back room with rows of cages. “This is him,” the woman said pointing to a Beagle.

Lindsay sighed, “That’s a Beagle. I’m not looking for a Beagle.” She went on to again describe the dog, small, scraggly, sad eyes.

The woman shook her head, “Can’t say I recall having such a dog,” she said, “but we’ve got nineteen cats, one of them is a Himalayan with the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. You think you might want a cat?”

Lindsay answered no and explained that she was looking for one particular dog. She again described the dog and gave the woman her telephone number in case such a dog should show up.

I
f you were to ask Lindsay why she wanted only that one particular dog, she’d be unable to tell you—that’s the beauty of what I do. I make love unexplainable. Humans fall in love with someone and claim it’s because of a special smile, or the crinkle around their lover’s eyes, but the truth is they’re clueless about the magic that brings such thoughts. The only one who knows the secret of pairing up lovers is me—well, me and The Boss, He knows everything.

A
t ten minutes before two, Lindsay pulled into the Cherry Hill parking lot in front of the address Morrissey had given her. It was an office park and every building was surrounded by several others that appeared identical. She crossed the lot, double checked the building number then walked into the lobby. One glance at the directory told her that Genius Advertising was the only tenant on the second floor. She stepped into the elevator and pressed two. When the door opened, she sank into a burgundy carpet that was so soft it was like walking on a cloud. In the center of the room a receptionist who looked to be Eleanor’s age sat behind the mahogany desk. “Are you here for an interview?” the woman asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Lindsay nodded.

Handing a clipboard across the desk, the woman said, “Fill out the application. Mister Morrissey will be with you shortly.”

Shortly turned out to be nearly a half hour and during that time a young woman carrying a portfolio came out, crossed the reception room and disappeared down the elevator. Minutes after she left, a round red-faced man walked out, “Lindsay Gray?” he asked.

She stood, extended her hand, shook his, and then followed him through a maze of cubicles to where his office was located.

Once seated in front of his desk, Lindsay proudly handed over her new resume. “Thank you for seeing me sir,” she said. “I appreciate the opportunity Mister Morrissey.”

Without looking up from the resume he’d begun to read, he replied, “Just Morrissey, no mister, no sir.” After almost five minutes of what to Lindsay felt like the silence of rejection, he looked up. “Good resume,” he said. “Nice that you went to Rutgers. Good School.” He went on to explain that the Agency had three new clients coming on board as of January fifteenth, and the position wouldn’t be funded until the first of next year.

“So if you are the candidate selected for the job, you wouldn’t start until January third,” he said, “would you be okay with that?”

“Yes…” Lindsay started to say sir, but caught herself in the nick of time. “Yes, I would,” she answered.

Morrissey went on to explain the copywriter hired would be working on two of the new accounts—a dog food manufacturer and a dinnerware company—but he couldn’t as yet divulge the names. Although she’d never given dinnerware a second thought, she claimed to be interested in both and told how she was currently in the process of adopting a rescue dog. “Good,” Morrissey said. “That’s good.” He scribbled something in the margin of her resume then stood. “I’ve got several other candidates to see,” he said, but I’ll get back to you within the next two weeks.

When Lindsay left the building, she sat in her car for almost ten minutes before she switched the ignition on. She was weighing the pros and cons of her interview. He seemed to like her that was a plus. She’d gone to Rutgers; that was another plus. He’d liked her resume and that was definitely a plus. The possibility that he might call some of the companies and ask if she’d done those things was a very big minus, as was the fact that he was seeing other candidates.

Lindsay drove home with uncertainty riding on her shoulders.

Cupid…A Change of Plans

T
he day after Lindsay’s interview, she took to carrying her cell phone around in her pocket, it went to the bathroom with her, it sat on the dinner table and although there was not even the slightest chance Jack Morrissey would call in the middle of the night, she slept with it held in her hand. She did that for seven days, then on the eighth day, she mistakenly left it on the breakfast table when she went upstairs to brush her teeth.

When the phone rang, Eleanor looked at it and hesitated. Her relationship with Lindsay was tenuous at best, so she had to wonder which would be the lesser of evils—answering the phone could be viewed as an invasion of privacy, yet she knew Lindsay had been nervously awaiting the call. The phone rang a second time—maybe she could grab the phone, run up the stairs and hand it to Lindsay before it stopped ringing—probably not. The arthritis in her knee forced her to take the stairs one at a time—slowly. The phone rang a third time. It was now or never, she had to make a decision and she had to make it fast.  On the fourth ring Eleanor nervously lifted the phone from the table, pressed her finger to the call icon and said “hello.”

“Lindsay Gray?” the caller asked.

“No,” she answered, “but hold on and I’ll get Lindsay.”

With the phone in her hand, Eleanor climbed the stairs as fast as her knee would allow and then rapped on the bathroom door. Lindsay knew who it was by the soft tap-tap-tap. When her father rapped on the door it was a loud knuckle knock, Eleanor’s was soft like a kitten scratching to come in. “I’m busy,” Lindsay garbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your phone rang and I thought you might be waiting for this call…” Eleanor said.

Lindsay’s hands dropped to her pockets, she felt for the cell phone, but it wasn’t there. Spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and not bothering to rinse, Lindsay opened the door and snatched the phone from Eleanor’s hand. 

“This is Lindsay Gray,” she said in a somewhat gritty voice.

“Morrissey here.” Using an efficiency of words, Jack Morrissey went on to tell Lindsay she had gotten the job. He said nothing about checking her references, but did mention that one of Rutgers’ new recruits had pulled a tendon. “Out for at least a month,” he said. He went on to explain that Lindsay was to report to the Personnel Department to fill out the insurance forms at nine o’clock on January third. After that he said goodbye, wished her a Merry Christmas and hung up.

When the line snapped off, Lindsay, ignoring the toothpaste grit stuck to her lips kissed Eleanor’s cheek. “I got it,” she sang out, “I got the job, I got the job!” She grabbed onto Eleanor’s hands and danced her around until she remembered she wasn’t all that fond of the woman. Lindsay stopped suddenly and said, “I’m sorry. I guess hearing that I’d got the job made me so excited…”

“That’s quite all right,” Eleanor smiled, “I rather enjoyed it myself.” The arthritic knee that had been troubling her for almost two weeks seemed somehow better.

That evening Lindsay’s new job was the main topic of conversation at the dinner table. When she spoke of it her eyes twinkled. She told of the plush carpet, the numerous cubicles, the art decorating the walls—it seemed that nothing in the Genius Advertising office had missed Lindsay’s notice. “The only thing is,” she sighed, “I don’t start until January third, so I’ve three whole months to hang around and do nothing.”

“Consider it a vacation,” John said, “Call your high school buddies, go to the mall, hang out and have some fun.”

“I’ve already called everybody I know,” Lindsay sighed. “Donna Bobbs moved to Ohio, and she left without even saying goodbye—can you believe it? It’s not just Donna, it’s everybody. All those friends I had,” she reminisced sadly, “…they’ve all gotten married or moved away. How can such a thing be possible?”

“It happens,” John shrugged, “but it should be easy enough to find new friends. Just get out and start going to the gym, there’s plenty of young people there. I’m sure you’ll meet—” 

 Not waiting for him to finish the thought, she interrupted, “I don’t go to the gym anymore,” she said sadly. She didn’t mention how she feared the gym was a place where she’d meet another man like Phillip.

“I don’t know if this would be of any interest,” Eleanor said, “…but do you think you would consider a temporary job?”

“Sure,” Lindsay answered.

“My nephew’s receptionist is out on maternity leave. I spoke with him last week and he mentioned that he needed someone to fill her spot.”

“You think he’d consider me?”

“I’m sure he would, if he hasn’t already hired someone.”

“Wow,” Lindsay said. “That would be awesome.”

“I’ll call and find out,” Eleanor offered.

“Awesome,” Lindsay repeated. For the first time since she’d known the woman, Lindsay looked straight into Eleanor’s face and smiled.

The fact that Lindsay had actually smiled at her spurred Eleanor on, and in the middle of her pork chop she got up and made the call. When Eleanor returned to the table she was smiling. “He said to stop by anytime tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” Lindsay repeated for the third time. She then asked what type of business it was, although the answer really didn’t matter—it was only for a few months and a job was a job.

“Matthew’s a Veterinarian.”

“He works with dogs?”

Eleanor nodded, “Dogs, cats, horses, all kinds of animals. He’s got one customer who comes in with a black pot-bellied pig. Can you imagine—” 

“Does he have rescue dogs?” Lindsay called to mind a picture of the dog she’d been looking for. 

 “Rescue dogs?” Eleanor questioned.

“Homeless dogs, dogs up for adoption.”

 Eleanor wrinkled her nose and thought for a minute then she shook her head, “I don’t think so, he mostly treats sick animals. I can’t say whether or not he does adoptions.”

Lindsay settled back in her chair. “I’ve got a good feeling about this,” she said.

Eleanor couldn’t help but notice how the smile on John’s face was nearly the same as the one on Lindsay’s.