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But Jane had a boyfriend.
Fearing the charity might have to refund the money, Jane had cast about for an alternative and asked Elizabeth to take her place. Elizabeth felt compelled to agree and had done her best to forget about it. After Jane sent Elizabeth’s picture to Bill, he accepted the substitution. To sweeten the deal, Jane—through Bing—had acquired tickets to the very exclusive Carlisle Ball, an event that Bill was quite excited to attend. As a result, this evening would combine three of Elizabeth’s least favorite things: a fancy, high-society event, high heels, and a blind date.
“I’m sure Bill won’t be that bad,” Jane reassured her.
Elizabeth ground her back teeth together. “He had to buy a date.”
Jane switched tactics. “Bing and I will be there.
Elizabeth was grateful for that. Jane’s back trouble had fortunately proven less serious than before, and she had recovered after missing only a week of work.
“The rest of the family will be there too—they all received invitations,” Jane continued brightly. Doesn’t she understand they’re part of the problem?
There was a knock at Elizabeth’s door. “I think he’s here.”
“No matter what, it’s just one short night,” Jane said quickly before Elizabeth hung up.
Trudging across her hardwood floors, she noticed that they were dirty. Maybe she could stay home and clean them tonight instead.
Biting her lip, Elizabeth pulled the door open—and was momentarily struck dumb. No doubt Jane had instructed Bill to wear a tuxedo. However, Jane obviously hadn’t specified that he should avoid wearing a plaid, crushed velvet tux. In retrospect, it was an unfortunate omission. Bill’s ensemble made him look like a waiter crossed with a bagpipe player.
A short waiter. Elizabeth bested him by a couple of inches; she could have foregone the heels. A bad comb-over was his other most noticeable feature.
“Elizabeth?” He scrutinized her from head to foot until a reptilian smile bloomed on his lips. “Well, your picture didn’t do you justice. I’m quite satisfied by the substitution.”
It’s for the children. It’s for the children.
Puffing out his chest, he offered a hand. “I’m Bill.” She shook it, resisting the urge to pull out of his warm, moist grip.
“Your chariot awaits, madam!” he announced with a grand sweeping gesture his arm. Lowering his voice, he added, “I’m joking. It’s just a car, not a chariot.”
“Um…okay.”
“But it’s a nice car. A really nice car.” He held up his hand and whispered in her ear for some reason. “A BMW.” Then he awaited her reaction.
When she gave none, he offered his arm. “Shall we go?”
After locking her apartment door, she congratulated herself for taking his arm without flinching. As they strolled down the hallway, they passed one of Elizabeth’s neighbors. Bill nodded grandly as if to say, “Look who’s on my arm!” Elizabeth considered whether she might die of embarrassment before they even reached the ball.
Waiting for the elevator, Bill asked, “What line of work are you in, Elizabeth?”
“International aid. I work for the Red Cross.”
He sniffed. “I don’t imagine there’s much money in that.” Without giving Elizabeth a chance to reply, he continued, “I’m in the staple industry.”
“Staples?” Did he mean household staples like bread and milk?
He gazed into the distance and intoned portentously, “I am employed by De Bourgh Staplers and Office Supplies.” For a moment he appeared about to salute. “The finest in the world.”
They stepped into the elevator. “Oh.” Elizabeth couldn’t think of anything else to say.
However, it turned out that her input was not necessary for the conversation. “I always wanted to get into staplers,” Bill continued. “I worked in erasers for a while, which was fine. And then hole punches, which I didn’t like; it’s not really a growing industry. But then I scored an interview at De Bourgh—the crème de la crème of the stapler world.” He paused dramatically, awaiting her reaction.
“Um…how fortunate.”
“Fortune had nothing to do with it,” he asserted with a lift of his chin. “It was hard work and determination—and a dose of good luck.”
Isn’t that the same thing as fortune?
