Kassandra collected her car keys from the travertine floor. Our eyes met and she winked at me. Oh, that must have been a juicy squabble between my boss and her blonde nitwit kid. More tattle for our happy hour chats. “It’s okay, Sunny. What’s wrong with Celine, that time of the month?”
She rolled her eyes, “With Celine every day that she doesn’t get her way is that time of the month.”
Poor woman. I headed over to my cubicle and noticed Kay’s office door open, so I adjusted my route and popped in to say hello and report on the progress.
Kay’s office was very small and windowless. Perhaps a closet in its past life? She’d had the place decorated in pale green and white, more beach house than Arizona office. The door was left open when she didn’t have guests so I poked my head in. Today her knitted sweater matched her chair pillows and set off her naturally silver hair. If only I could look so chic when I’m her age...
“Well, I hope this new photographer is as good as Al.” I put it out there and waited.
“New photographer? Why? What happened to Al?” I knew it.
I told her the whole story. Okay, I left out sixty percent of my suspicions and even with barely forty percent, I caught Kay looking at me like I was batty. She kept staring, at least I thought she was looking at me since I was the only one there. Then a smile spread from her eyes to the rest of her face, and she asked, “Wait, are we talking about that dingbat reporter who wrote all that garbage about Celine and that young man? Oh, now I remember, the redhead who showed up at your first open house. Right?”
I nodded yes so enthusiastically I feared my head would come unhinged and roll off my body. Kay was obviously agreeing with me about J.S. Smith. Finally. I felt vindicated. She picked up the phone.
“This is easy. The owner of the company is an old friend. Let’s find out.” She got a busy signal. “I’m curious, why is this S.J, J. S. whatever the name, always chasing you down? What is it she wants from you?”
I shrugged, “She’s sort of stuck on Tris — Mr. Dumont.”
“What? Her too?” Her too? OMG, was I that transparent? Kay’s fingers tapped on her desk. She looked amused. “Oh, I guess you weren’t here. You missed Celine’s big drama scene. That poor Sunny. I don’t know how she can put up with her. It’s days like these I’m thankful I never had kids.”
I cleared my throat, “What drama scene?”
“Celine went to some witchcraft thing. No, no, a fair. Yes, A Psychic Fair. That’s what I heard. That’s what we all heard, and I’m not sure what’s the big deal except that the nitwit went there to buy a love potion.”
She laughed openly, “A love potion. Unbelievable and I bet she gave it, or tried to give it to that Tristan Dumont. Apparently, it didn’t work.”
She covered her mouth with her free hand not to sound too — amused?
“She and the reporter should get together and compare notes.” The phone still in her hand, she checked her watch, “Oops. Got to go. Let’s get together as soon as you receive the download and we’ll get you set up with your listing. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to my friend and find out about that Smith woman.”
I went back to my cubicle. Celine and the Psychic Fair. Love potion Kay said. Was the whole office at the fair? No, what was I thinking? Kassandra said she didn’t go. Not so, she went but didn’t stay. And Brenda was my aunt. However, she didn’t have anything to do with Desert Homes Realty, right? I could sure use some Excedrin, no joke. The tiny counter that made up my desk had a few post-its stuck in the weirdest places. Must be Kassandra’s wicked sense of humor. I was dying to hear her version of the love potion. Why would Celine tell her mother about it?
Clear your mind Monica, none of your biz. I read my messages: a call from that legal firm, the one with the fancy pants Esquire who was working on the accident settlement. Made me feel funny to be part of it. Tristan’s intentions were good, I just didn’t know how I could claim damages. I was totally recovered and really, Tristan lost his Land Rover and spent weeks in a cast. Oh, well, later. A receipt from AAA, with a notation recommending I replace the tire, meaning buy a new one? Better make up my mind about my Fiat. A folded white piece of paper, hand written in cursive? From Tristan? He was here? In my cubicle? Be still my heart. Maybe that’s when Celine gave him the love potion? How? Mouth to mouth? Stop it Monica. I read the note.
Hey Fiat, noticed someone working on your car. Call me if you need a ride. Here is my cell #. T.
How sweet was that? He must have been here meeting with Sunny while AAA changed my tire. On impulse I held his note against my heart. Then looked around, no one saw me. Good. As if anyone cared about my romantic dreams. The office was very, very quiet. I could see Sunny in her glass office, talking on the phone and skimming through a thick file. It always amazed me to see how organized and focused she could be. Celine must take after her father, whoever he was.
I had a phone call from the couple who hired me to sell their house. I called them back and updated them on the progress. I also promised to let them see the photos before the rest of the world did. They sounded pretty excited, especially the wife who loved the new living arrangements, adding she no longer had to cook. They ate their main meals in the elegant restaurant and,
