Worth the Weight (4 page)

She looked at her alarm clock
and saw
it was past ten. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late. It must be the fresh Copper Country air and the walk home last night.

She went through her mental calendar once again. It was the second week in June. She’d allotted two weeks to find out where
Finn
worked and lived. Katie cut that down to just a few days with her connections at the
Ingot
.
Another week to make contact with
Finn
. One more week to ask him out, and probably two to three weeks of seeing him before they would sleep together. She added another week on for additional sex if she so desired. It didn’t occur to her to add in any time for what
Finn
may desire. Then back to Detroit.

Back to her business. Back to her future.

All totaled, eight weeks, give or take, to find a man whom she hadn’t seen in eighteen years, dazzle him, sleep with him, get to a comfo
rt level with her new body,
then leave town.

Lizzie loved a plan.

It was a testament to how serious she was about her plan that she was willing to leave her office in the very capable hands of her staff for that long.

By asking
Finn
out the first time she saw him, she was alrea
dy four weeks ahead of schedule.
She wouldn’t announce her possible early return to her assistant, Sybil, when
she
called the office this morning. No sense saying she’d be back sooner than she expected then have something go wrong with her time line. Better to give herself a buffer.

As she had her morning coffee, she made her check-in call
and checked her email
. Sybil told her everything was fine and it would be appreciated if she could limit her calls to at least every other day, preferably weekly. Lizzie laughed at that, and Sybil sighed, realizing the futility of the request. Sybil also told her that Pete Ryan had called. Nothing important, he had just wanted to check in, but was surprised to learn that Lizzie was in their mutual hometown area.

She
wrote a note in her ever-present notebook to call Petey later that day.
She could easily text him, but if Petey had called, that meant he wanted to talk.
He probably wanted to commiserate about the Red Wings’ loss in the playoffs. She knew he had a couple of charity appearances this week, ones she’d set up for him. He’d probably head up for the remainder of the summer. Since starting in the NHL, Petey had spent all his summers back in the U.P.

She couldn’t wait to see him, even if his first night home would inevitably be her playing designated driver while he got smashed and bitched about “those fucking pussies”, meaning, of course, the Colorado Avalanche. Her junior prom date, and her first client when she opened her own shop, she counted Petey as her closest male friend.

After touching base with her three account executives on upcoming events that their clients
were scheduled to attend, she signed off and decided to take Sybil’s advice and try not to call every day. She had an incredible staff, and much as she’d like to think she was indispensable, they were more than able to hold down the fort. Besides, now that the Stanley Cup had been decided, the only active professional sports in progress were baseball and golf. Hampton Public Relations handled only two baseball players and no golfers. Professional golf was the next arena Lizzie wanted to enter, but that would have to wait. It wasn’t an election year, so no politicians for clients right now. If she had to be gone for this long, now was as good a time as any.

She hadn’t taken a vacation of any length in the ten years since she’d started her own firm. A short trip home to see her parents and Katie and Alison. A quick flight to Florida to see her twin brother, Zeke, when he was stationed there. That was it. She hadn’t felt cheated, though. Her job allowed her to go to some of the best sporting events in the country, in some of the best locales. And so much of her job involved social events that she never felt the need to “get away from it all” as many professionals did.

She loved what she did for a living. She was good at it. If she could just get this sex thing handled, she’d feel like she had it all. She’d be a freakin’ perfume ad!

She threw on a pair of sweats and tee shirt and walked from her parents old Victorian home on the east side of town, near the bridge, down the hill to Bob’s Mobil to get the papers. The Detroit papers wouldn’t arrive until later in the afternoon - the drive to this remote area was so far - but she could get the Milwaukee papers.

After giving her change, and a couple of extra ones, to Help Hannah, and responding in kind to Bob’s curt, “Lizzie”, she left the station.

Bob’s bible verse today was
“The Love of Money Is the Root of All Evil”
.
No one had seen how it’d gotten there.

By ten that morning,
Finn
was three hours into what would be another sixteen-hour day.

Two of the kids who picked for him in the mornings didn’t show, so he was out with the twelve and thirteen-year olds picking strawberries in the north patch. He only had six kids working for him right now, but in another month, during peak season, there’d be twice that many.

Joining him this morning were
a few
townspeople who were picking some of the first berries of the season. There were also a few industrious kids who would pick several quarts to sell at a roadside stand for double what they paid
Finn
. And a couple of tourists who wanted some local color and thought picking their own berries to put on their shortcake back at their hotel would be a quaint story to tell back home. Probably from the city. Though that could mean either Chicago or Detroit. The western corner of the U.P. was equidistant from both.

His
son, Stevie, was in the field too. Except for his mother’s Finnish, blonde hair, Stevie was the spitting image of
Finn
at fourteen.
He
could only hope to give Stevie an easier life than he’d had.

He
hadn’t been ready for fatherhood at twenty-three, hadn’t been ready to admit that Montana or Texas was never going to happen, but he thought he’d adapted pretty well. His unrealized dreams had never turned to resentment toward his son. Not from the first moment he’d held Stevie. It may have been unplanned, but once that baby boy was in his arms,
Finn
could never think of the pregnancy as unwanted.

He
knew he shortchanged Stevie by spending so much of his time with Annie, but it just couldn’t be helped right now. He wasn’t going to try to change that. He’d just have to figure out
how to better spend his time with Stevie. What did they call that? Quality time? Yeah, he’d spend more quality time with his son.

He looked over to see Stevie throwing a garter snake at one of the girl pickers. She shrieked in terror and ran through the rows of berry plants, causing the tourists to stand too quickly and dump the quarts of berries they’d already picked onto the muddy ground.

He better get started with that quality time. But when? He was booked solid between the farm, the theater and Annie. Now throw in Liz - though he really didn’t plan on spending all that much time with her – and he didn’t know where he’d find the time to keep Stevie on the straight and narrow.

He
watched Stevie’s mischievous grin turn to innocence as the boy felt his father’s gaze. He’d find the time somehow.

“Last one, I promise,” Lizzie said as she modeled what had to be the sixth outfit in contention for her date later that evening.

They were in Lizzie’s childhood bedroom, once again talking about boys and clothes. Springsteen played on the CD player and her mom had left some lemonade on the desk. The
identical
scene had been played out hundreds of times before.

“Yowza, that’s hot,” Alison said in a mock low growl of appreciation over Lizzie’s scantily clad body. She wore a red mini skirt and white halter-top.

“Definitely says you’re ready, Lizard,” Katie added.

Lizzie gave the outfit a quick glance then started taking it off right away. “Nah, not the look I’m going for. Besides, I’d be too worried my boobs would fall out of the top.”

“And that would be a bad thing?” Alison teased.

“What look are you going for?” Katie asked.

“It’s got to be a tiny bit sexy, but more clean cut than anything else.”

“Not exactly the way to get a guy into bed, Lizard, clean cut?”

“We’re not talking about just any guy,”
she
said as she put her bra back on after taking off the halter-top that demanded she go commando. The bra’s sturdy underwire harnessed her plentiful bosom and put
her
back in her comfort zone. “
Finn
always liked the idea of me being a good girl. I think the women and girls he knew were all a little slutty, dressed kind of tarty. His mom sure did, though I only met her a couple of times. I think my button down oxfords and preppie attire really turned him on. I think…I think he liked the idea of the bad boy and the good girl.”

“Are you sure you want this guy to be your first foray back into sex?”

“That’s why he’s so perfect. He’s the most down and dirty guy I ever knew. If I can get through it with him, enjoy it with him, get over my body issues with him, it’ll be a breeze with someone as refined and cultured as Davis.”

“Be careful, Lizard, books and covers and wolf and sheep’s clothing and all that,” Katie added.

“Yeah I know, but I’m not some silly virgin you know.”

“I don’t know, what is the statue of limitations on virginity? Maybe the hymen grows back without use for fifteen years.”

Lizzie laughed at Alison’s remark. “Yeah, maybe
Finn
can finally get his wish and take my virginity after all. So, ladies, now that you k
now what I’m going for, what’
ll it be?”

“I’m thinking the white sleeveless with the khaki shorts,” Katie gave her opinion.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I’d go with too,” Alison weighed in.

“Really? You think I can get away with a sleeveless blouse?” Lizzie asked. The outfit had been her favorite, too. A white cotton, collared, sleeveless button down blouse with khaki walking shorts and low sandals. Tiny gold hoop earrings and a thin gold chain were all the jewelry she would add. Casual, yet classic.

“Of course you can wear sleeveless.”

She
looked in the full-length mirror one more time at another outfit. She gave it a quick glance, as she did with the other five outfits she’d tried on for her friends.

“Why do you do that?” Katie asked.

“Do what?”

“Look in the mirror for about five seconds per outfit. You obviously care what you’re going to wear tonight or else you wouldn’t have us putting our two cents in, but you hardly give it a second glance.”

“If it were me, I’d be standing in front of the mirror for a good twenty minutes with each outfit, turning every angle, sitting down in the outfit, the whole nine yards. You barely look at it,” Alison added.

Lizzie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how long I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself anyway, so why bother. I can get the idea with a quick look. Besides that’s why you guys are here, to back me up.” At Katie and Alison’s puzzled looks she tried to elaborate. “I mean, I
obviously
look in the mirror when I get dressed or do my hair or make up, but...when I look in the mirror, I see parts, not the whole. It only takes a second to check on the parts that I know may be troublesome, so, I look at those quickly, and if they pass inspection, then it’s a go.”

“What do you mean parts, not the whole?” Of course something like this would fascinate Alison the psychologist.

“I only see myself in parts...when I look at myself. I can’t see me, just my parts. I’ve become very detached from my
body
image, I’ve had to, or I’d have gone crazy.”

“I’m not getting it,” Katie said. “Put the outfit we picked back on.”
The women
waited as
she
stripped out of the last outfit she’d tried and put on the white blouse and shorts once more.

There was no modesty or embarrassment while Lizzie was only in her bra and panties. Not with the these women. Never had been. Never would be. Even when
she
was twice the size she was now. Even when Katie had felt that her body was betraying her by crying barrenness. Even after Alison had her appendix removed and there were bandages and scars. Since kindergarten, really. It was a sense of security that Lizzie took for granted.

Once sh
e
had the shirt and shorts on
she
turned to Katie for further instructions.

“Okay, now turn to the mirror and quickly tell me what you see.”

It only took seconds for her to look and answer. “Arms. Not as tan as I’d like, stretch marks underneath, I’ll have to hold my arms close to my sides. No high fiving,” she chuckled, imagining greeting
Finn
with a high five. Definitely not his style.