My Own Mr. Darcy (33 page)

I sighed happily and sat
contentedly in my seat when the lights came up at the end of the play. “Thank
you, Matt. It was even better than I expected it to be.”

“I’m sorry if Kael bothered
you during the play,” the little boy’s mom said.

“He didn’t bother me at
all. It was fun to see how much he was enjoying it.” The woman smiled. “Do you
know all the songs?” I asked the little boy.

He nodded.

“Which one do you like
best?”

“My favorite is “One Short
Day” but I like them all.”

“It must have been hard
not to sing along. You were a good boy.”

He smiled and tucked his
head into his mother’s side.

“Thank you,” she said and
they left.

Slowly the audience
spilled out of the theater. We sat in the crushed, red velvet seats and waited,
watching the finely dressed people leave. Some raved about the show, others
were quietly lost in their thoughts. Finally Matt stood and reached his hand
down to me. He was smiling.

“What are you smiling
about?” I asked.

“How nice you were to that
little boy. He knew more about the play than I did. I shouldn’t have been so
hard on him.”

I smiled back and took his
arm. “He was pretty cute, wasn’t he?”

“You like kids a lot?”

“I love kids.”

“No wonder you’re doing
such a good job on the Children’s Room.”

The conversion of the sun
porch from a cluttered storage room to a haven for book-loving children moved
along steadily. I finished painting the shelves and the table and chairs. I hired
the tattooed electrician and he and his embellished apprentice installed
recessed lighting in the bookshelves. Hanging from the ceiling down the middle
of the room were four clusters of pendant lights. Each cluster had seven lights
with shades in different shapes and colors. I’d seen a similar look, all done
in white, on the website for a nightclub in New York. Theirs looked pretty.
Mine looked fun and I was happy with the outcome.

Sam finished the mural and
even Meg had to admit it was stunning. The children were so realistic and their
expressions reflected the wonder of the adventure of reading. The pages were
alive and the characters and places floated into the air with a feeling of
abandon.

Two days after Sam
completed the mural, the carpet layers went to work. The day after that, I brought
in the furniture, the beanbag chairs and the blocks. It was finished.

I took two pain relievers
on the way to see Emma Cho. My head was aching and I wanted to be at my best.

“Elizabeth, thanks for
coming in,” Emma said.

Emma Cho Design had its own
building. Surrounding it was a strip mall, a gas station and a McDonalds. It
seemed out of place with the rest of the businesses because it was such a
beautiful building. White walls, glass and columns opened up into a large
showroom filled with exquisite and expensive furnishings and accessories. Just
walking through the showroom to Emma’s office made me want to redecorate the
world.

“Thanks for seeing me,” I
said.

I sat down in a low backed
chartreuse armchair. The office was done in shades of gray and black. The only
color came from the two chairs and the framed artwork. It was bold and elegant.

Emma jumped right in with
questions about my education and my design aesthetic. It felt comfortable and
friendly and not at all like an interview.

“This is difficult for
me,” Emma said. “I can tell you’re a real talent and I don’t want to let you
get away, but at the same time, no matter how I look at things here, I can’t
hire someone right now. I’d like to make a proposal, however, and see what you
think. I understand if you find a better situation, but we’re one of the best
design houses in Portland and I’m crossing my fingers you’ll see the advantage
of what I’m going to suggest.”

“I’m open to anything that
will let me design instead of being a bank teller,” I said.

“I’d like to call you one
of our designers. You’d probably have to keep working your second job for the
time being, but we’d call you ours. The advantage of that for you is that any
business you come up with will be yours and you’ll be able to use this showroom
and our connections to get discounts and special orders. You’d keep all your
own business and I wouldn’t take a percentage of what you charge. I think being
able to use our name would help you if you want to generate business and I’m
sure our connections could make any job you do more profitable. The reason I’d
do this is because in exchange for that, I’d want to have first chance at
having you work full time for us. If someone else offers you a job, I want the
chance to meet their offer. What I’m hoping for is that some time down the
road, business will have picked up enough that I can just hire you outright.”

“That sounds like a
reasonable offer,” I said.

“I want you to take a few
days and think about it. I don’t need an answer immediately. I want this to be
mutually beneficial.”

“It would have been nice
to have your connections on my first two jobs,” I said.

“I didn’t realize you’d
done another job besides the Kellers,” Emma said. “I’d love to hear about it.”

“I just finished The
Children’s Room at The Pink Salamander.”

“The bookstore?”

“Yes. By the college.”

“So you do residential and
commercial design?”

“I guess technically, I
do. I hadn’t really thought of it that way.” I laughed. “I just do whatever I
can.”

“I’d love to see it
sometime.”

“I’m sure you could stop
by any time,” I said.

“I’d rather see it with
you, if there’s a time we could stop by together. Do you know if they’re open
evenings?”

“They’re open until
seven.”

“Do you have time to stop
by when we leave here?”

And so Emma Cho followed
me to The Pink Salamander. At the sound of the bell, Meg glanced out from the
parlor but when she saw it was me, she disappeared.

Emma liked what I’d done
and loved what Sam had done. “He’s brilliant,” I said.

“And you’re brilliant for
commissioning him. Once again, I’m really happy with what I see.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Emma left a short time
later with the understanding that we’d talk about her offer in the next week or
two. When she had gone, I pulled out one of the little chairs and sat down. I didn’t
feel well. I was so tired. I rubbed the back of my neck. The headache had
returned—it had never completely left—and a dull ache was settling into my
joints. I leaned over and rested my head against the cool table. It felt so
good not to move. I knew I should go home. Several times I thought about
leaving but lifting my head off the table was too difficult to think about. So
I stayed there.

Matt found me forty
minutes later—asleep and burning up with fever.

“ELIZABETH?”

I heard Matt’s voice but
it was too hard to respond.

“Elizabeth? Are you okay?”

It took all my strength to
slowly lift my head off the table. Matt was kneeling beside me, his hand heavy on
my arm. “I don’t feel good,” I said.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Matt’s voice was gentle but his hand felt so heavy on my arm. He was crushing
it.

“Everything hurts. I’m so
tired.”

“Meg. Can you come in
here?” Matt yelled.

“Shh. It hurts.” I rested
my head back on the table.

“I’m sorry. Just relax.
We’ll get you home.”

“Did you call me?” Meg
asked from across the room.

“Elizabeth is sick. I’m
going to drive her home. Can you follow me in my car and bring me back?”

“I guess so,” Meg said.
“Do you think it will take very long? I’ve got a nail appointment in less than
an hour.

“I’ll get you back for your
appointment.” Matt sounded exasperated.

“I can drive myself home,”
I said weakly. I dragged myself to an upright position and slowly stood up. The
crown of my head felt like tribal drummers were beating a war dance inside it.

“I’ll drive you home,”
Matt said. “There’s no way I’m sending you off feeling like this. Let’s get you
home and to bed.”

I pulled my car keys out
of my pocket and handed them to Matt. I leaned against the door while he got
his car keys, too weary to hold myself up. Matt tossed his keys to Meg, put his
arm around me and walked me to my car.

I leaned my head back on
the seat and closed my eyes.

“Just relax. I’ll have you
home soon.” Matt squeezed my hand after he started the car, crushing the bones
together until they felt like they were sawdust. “How long have you felt sick?”

“My head started hurting
this morning but I took some Tylenol. I’m just so tired.”

“Hopefully you’ll feel
better after a good night’s sleep,” he said.

Matt parked my car and
walked me to my apartment. He used my keys to unlock the door and turned on the
lights.

“Do you want to go get
ready for bed?” Matt asked.

“I’ll just wait here until
Janessa gets home,” I said.

I curled up on one side on
the couch. Matt tucked a pillow under my head and covered me with a throw. “I’d
wait with you for your roommate, but I’d better get Meg back for her
appointment. Just try to get some sleep,” he whispered and kissed me on the
forehead. I heard him drop the keys in the bowl before he locked the door from
the inside and left.

I must have fallen asleep.
I moved my head to look at the clock on the DVD player. My skull felt thin and
fragile and I thought it might shatter if I moved it too quickly. I delicately
lifted it until I could see the numbers. 2:47. I carefully laid my head back
down and tried to think.

Had I really slept that
long? Where was Janessa? Had she come home and gone to bed? With slow
movements, I lifted myself back up and looked around the room. Every joint felt
tender and brittle. I slowly made my way to Janessa’s door and peeked inside. The
glow of the streetlight outside illuminated her untouched bed. Janessa hadn’t
been here.

And then I remembered.