I’m screwed, Christy thought.
“Do you have any pets?” Mr. Gibbons asked.
“No, and I don’t plan to have any.”
“How about children?” Mrs. Rich asked. “Your biological clock is ticking. Tell me, are you the kind of woman who would have a child without a husband?”
“Mrs. Rich, I have no plans to marry or have a child. I work twelve, fourteen hours a day. You’ll hardly notice I’m here.”
Mr. Crackstone held up copies of sign-in sheets. “According to the doorman’s records, you’ve been up to see apartment 9G eleven times. Is that true?” Now I’ll be giving you a rectal exam.
Christy scratched her head. She had no idea. “Maybe. I don’t remember. I did visit a lot because I needed to bring my architect up.”
“Reeeally,” Mr. Gibbons said. “You’re planning a renovation? There’s nothing in your package about a renovation.”
“Not now,” Christy said. “I just wanted to know if someday I would be able to make the changes I’m thinking of.”
“Sure,” Mr. Gibbons said, nodding. You can take your feet out of the stirrups now.
“Wait, is it true that you don’t like our lobby decor?” Mr. Crackstone asked.
“What? Why would you say such a thing?”
“Our doorman mentioned that you made a remark about the mirrored wall we just added,” he said.
“He must have heard me wrong,” Christy said, furious that the weasel wearing the fake Austrian color-guard uniform was, in truth, a spy for the board. “I love everything about this building, especially the mirrored wall in the lobby. It makes the room seem so much bigger. In fact, I’ll probably mirror a wall in my apartment.”
“That’s not mentioned in your package,” Mr. Gibbons said, leafing through his papers.
“It’s another one of those ‘someday’ things,” Christy said.
“Well, thank you, Ms. Hayes. We’ll discuss your application and let you know.” Your test results will be available in about a week.
“Thanks,” Christy said, standing and shaking each board member’s hand. She shut the door behind her and walked into the small waiting room where she’d left her coat and packages. Thank God that’s over, she thought. As she gathered her things, she overheard the discussion inside.
“Have you ever?” Mrs. Rich asked. “As if we’d approve a single girl with her profile.”
“Well, we did approve Janette Jaffe. And she was single,” Mr. Gibbons pointed out.
“Yes, but she was from a socially prominent family. Her father’s president of Winged Foot Golf Club,” Mr. Crackstone said. “This woman doesn’t have enough in the bank for cushion. What kind of CEO spends all her money on a down payment while she doesn’t have a pot to piss in?”
“Mr. Crackstone!” Mrs. Rich said. “Language!”
“Sorry.”
“Well, we know she’s a liar. Who are you going to believe about the mirrored wall? Bobby or her? And eleven visits! She may as well have worn a neon sign that she’ll be a pain in our backsides,” Mr. Gibbons added.
“She’s just another wannabe who thinks she can improve her social standing by associating with people like us,” Mrs. Rich sighed.
Screw them, Christy thought. What snobs. She swung open the boardroom door to face her detractors. “So I take it I’m rejected?” Christy said.
Mrs. Rich’s face turned crimson. “Well, of course we haven’t made a decision yet,” she said. “You’ve interrupted our discussion.”
Christy rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother. I’m withdrawing my application.” She turned and walked out, this time for good. There are other apartments in the city, she thought. I’ll find something yet.
Guess Who’s Coming to Davos
Christy was paying bills in her new study when Maria brought in the fat creamy envelope addressed to her in elegant scroll.
“This just came,” Maria said. “It looks like a wedding invitation.” Maria Ruiz had been Christy’s housekeeper for years. In truth, she was more than that. Part mother, part sister, part loyal friend, it was Maria who waited for Christy with a hot, home-cooked meal every night, who nursed her back to health after her knee operation, who comforted her over failed love affairs—not that there had been many men in the last few years. It was Maria who gave a damn about Christy’s day, from the glamorous moments to the boring details.
“Whoa!” Christy said, her eyes wide. “I’ve been invited to Davos.”
“What’s that?” Maria asked.
“The World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland,” she explained, “where the most important people in the world get together every year. Everyone who’s anyone goes. Except I’ve never been.”
“What do they do when they get there?” Maria asked.
“You know, wheel and deal, share ideas, alter the course of world events, that sort of thing. I can’t believe they even know who I am.”
“Well, of course they do,” Maria said. “You’re a famous athlete. You built a big company. Plus, you’re on all those billboards.”
Christy googled World Economic Forum and saw picture after picture of the planet’s movers and shakers. “Look at who goes,” she said. “See, there’s the Dalai Lama, the mayor, President Clinton.”
“Hrrmph,” Maria snorted. “You’re just as important as they are. More important.”
Christy giggled. “Right. Maria, you are the only person in the world who thinks I’m more important than the Dalai Lama, but I love you for that.” She stood and gave her a hug. “Now let’s go see what’s for lunch.”
Three months later, Christy arrived in Zurich bleary-eyed, wearing toe-pinching high heels, and schlepping her overstuffed tote. Even after two Olympics and plenty of business travel, Christy always felt slightly homesick when overseas. However, she never failed to be cheered by Golden Arches, and there they were before her. Grabbing some French fries for breakfast, she continued her trudge to baggage and the big red tour bus. She took a seat in the front, avoiding her fellow jet-lagged delegates. At six A.M., it was too early to face the world’s Best and Brightest.
She wished Katherine was with her, but Katherine hadn’t been invited. Christy felt bad about
