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I take a step forward, "You don't have to do that," I say, as she opens her checkbook. "Really, it's fine."
She pins me with a stare that's hard and unyielding, but at the same time she's smiling. I'm not sure how she manages it. "You saved my life," she says brightly. "It's the least I can do. How much?" she asks Mr. Ferguson.
I should probably point out that the whole reason I had to save her life in the first place is because I endangered it, but I'm too shocked to move. Is this really happening?
"Twenty-eight hundred," Mr. Ferguson says, "That'll cover it I think. And I'll pay her, even though she doesn't deserve it." His eyes suddenly focus on me. "Get out of here, Sally. I don't want you anywhere near my property."
I retrieve my coat and purse from the shell of the cart and start walking. The blonde walks with me, confidently taking my arm. "Come with me," she says, leading me down one of the branching hallways to some benches. She sits me down. "Are you all right?"
"I should be asking you that," I say, trying to hide the way I'm shaking. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that. I'll pay you back, all of it, I swear."
She waves a hand in a gesture that looks older than she is. "Don't bother. Trust me, I can afford it. Besides, like I said, without you I think Edison and I would be crushed against that escalator right now."
I shake my head. "You wouldn't have even been in danger if I weren't so stupid I forgot to lock the wheels."
She smiles. "It all worked out." And then she extends a hand. "I'm Bianca."
"Nice to meet you," I say.
"Likewise." She puts her purse up onto her shoulder. "Unfortunately, I'm on my way to a meeting, so I can't stay to chat, but take care of yourself, Sally."
I stand, reaching out but not quite touching her. "Please, at least can we exchange information. I know you say you don't want me to, but I might still be able to change your mind about me paying you back."
She seems to hesitate for a second before she says, “Of course." She's smiling again, and this time I notice just how glamorous she is. Her coat and bag cost more than what she just paid to get me out of trouble, I'm sure. She lets me put my number in her phone and sends me a quick text that says 'It's Bianca!' with a smiley face.
"Thank you," I say.
"Have a good rest of your day," she says. "Try to take it easy." She floats away and I sit down on the bench again because my legs are still shaking.
The fact that she gave me her info makes me feel better, but I don't know what I’m going to do to pay her back. I didn't have the money when it was Mr. Ferguson asking, and of course, now that I don't have a job, I’m in an even bigger pinch. Great. I sink down onto the bench until my neck is leaning on the back of it. I probably look pathetic but I don't care.
I'm definitely cursed. Why can't I just have a normal Valentine’s Day?
2
Eric
I look down at my phone again and sigh. It's really unlike Bianca to be late. She knows how busy we are at the office this time of year, and this is the day she chooses to flake? If I didn't love my sister so damn much I'd have already left. She's thirty minutes late, and the people at the restaurant are starting to look at me funny.
Glancing at my phone again, the clock ticks forward. Thirty-one minutes.
I resist the urge to check my email, though I'm sure even in the short period that I've been gone that it's full to bursting. Marshall Greetings can stand for me to take a couple of hours away from my desk without collapsing, even though it doesn't seem that way sometimes. There's always some kind of emergency this time of year, when everyone and their mother is buying greeting cards. Frankly it starts in October and doesn't stop until March. I can't wait until the slow season when I can actually relax and not have trite sayings bouncing behind my eyelids when I close my eyes.
Thirty-two minutes. At this point I'm wondering if something bad has happened, because even though my sister always enters with the air of being fashionably late, she never actually is. Marshalls are never late. It was drilled into us from an early age, though it might be good if we can all start to forget those lessons now.
I cut off that line of thinking as Bianca breezes in, carrying that little dog that goes everywhere with her. I'm quite partial to Edison even though I'd never admit it to her. I have too much fun giving her a hard time.
She settles into the seat across from me with a flourish. "Sorry I'm late," she says with a smile. "I ran into some trouble."
"Are you all right?"
"Of course," she says, winking. "Nothing that my checkbook couldn't fix."
I roll my eyes. "I don't even want to know what you bought or who you bribed. It was probably you trying to bring that dog in here."
"Don't be ridiculous," Bianca says, waving over the waiter. "Everyone here loves Edison, don't you, John?" She asks as our regular waiter appears at our table.
His smile is courteous. "Edison is a very well behaved dog, ma'am."
That's not the same as loving the dog, but everyone here knows better. And everyone here loves Bianca, so they put up with Edison.
"Regular please," I say to John.
He nods.
"I'm in the mood for something new," Bianca says. "What do you have?"
"The chef has recently added a Mediterranean pilaf to the menu."
"Oh, that's perfect. I'll have that and a glass of my usual white."
; John nods again and disappears to put in our orders, and to bring me scotch. I rarely drink, but today I need it.
Bianca's purse is gaping open on the seat beside her, and there's a giant red candy box in there. I feel like I'm going to vomit, and that feeling is washed away with anger as she follows my line of vision and quickly rearranges her bag so it's not visible. I don't need to be coddled. I can hate this stupid damn holiday without everyone treating me with kid gloves. "It's from Mom," she says, answering my unspoken question. "She's really doing this?"
"Yes," I say. "Though I'm glad my invitation wasn't that."
Bianca rolls her eyes. "I would have preferred that it wasn't either, but you know Mom doesn't do anything by halves."
"No, she doesn't." And when she called me yesterday to tell me that she was hosting a Valentine's party, and that she expects me to bring a date, I realized that she hadn't told me until the last minute so that I wouldn't be able to say no. Sneaky, and also not very kind. "She wants me to bring a date."
Bianca groans. "She told me the same thing. I get her pressuring me, but she really needs to lay off you. I'll talk to her."
I laugh. "Don't bother. It's Mom. She's doing what she always does."
"But—"
"But nothing, Bianca. Mom is never going to accept that people heal at their own speed. The only speed she'll take is the one she goes at. That's just the way it is. You know what happens if it goes the other way." John sets down my scotch and I thank him.
Bianca is looking at me carefully. "Well have you found someone to take yet? Because if you show up alone that's going to be just as bad."
