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Ignoring Foster and without any regard for who might be on the other line, I accept the call and say, “This is Foster Blake’s answering service. He’s not available at the moment.” I swat at Foster’s hand reaching for the device at my ear. “He’s presently impersonating an annoying fly. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Who is this?” a confused male voice asks.
“Ms. Cunning. I’m Mr. Blake’s new Secretary of Constant Callers. And who might you be?”
“This is Parker,” his friend, who I met just a few days ago, says. “Can you put Foster on the phone?”
“Oh, hey, Parker. It’s EJ. I was just kidding around.” I swivel around in my chair. “Sure, he’s right here.”
“Actually, I’d rather talk to you.”
“Of course you would. How might I help you?”
Foster holds out his hand, waiting for me to give him the phone. I shake my head and hold up my index finger, indicating for him to wait.
“Well,” Parker begins, “you see, the thing is, I’m getting married this weekend.”
“I remember. Congratulations. Hillary’s great. You’re very lucky.”
“Thank you. I tend to agree,” Parker states proudly. “So, here’s the deal. Hillary’s mother is down my fiancée’s throat about this damn seating chart for the reception, and it’s driving my bride-to-be absolutely insane, thereby making me extremely unhappy.”
“Yes, planning any event can be quite a task. I don’t envy that part one bit.”
“No kidding. I’m starting to understand why people hire wedding planners, but her family insisted on doing everything, so we let them. Hillary said there would be no fighting her parents on this point.” He pauses. “Anyhow, I’ve gotten off track. The problem is that, apparently, I mistakenly put down my dear old friend, Foster, as having a plus-one, assuming that no one in his right mind goes to a wedding event alone—and certainly not Foster. He wouldn’t want to be that guy.”
I swallow to contain the rise in emotions at the thought of Foster dating anyone. “No, he certainly wouldn’t.”
“But when I asked him about who he was bringing, he told me that he’s coming solo. Now, this is something I don’t understand, especially when he knows you.”
“Oh…” My heart pounds a little harder.
“I take it, he hasn’t mentioned it to you then?”
“Um…” I turn my back to my coworker, whose stone cold gaze is on me. “No, not at all.”
“I told him to ask you, but he didn’t think that you would want to come.”
“It’s kind of complicated,” I whisper.
Over my shoulder, I glance at Foster. He’s focused on his feet, intently listening to my side of the conversation.
“I’m going to put Foster on the line now. It was nice talking with you, Parker.”
I quickly deliver the phone into Foster’s waiting hand, rise from my seat, and then meander out from behind the desk. I begin to collect books and magazines from the tables to be returned to the shelves. I take my time, giving Foster the freedom to speak freely to his friend.
When the last magazine is filed into its place, I pick up the short pile of books and walk back toward the desk where Foster is thankfully off the phone, watching my every move.
“Hey,” I say, resting the stack of volumes between us. “Sorry about that. I overstepped my boundaries.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He grabs the top bound edition on molecular mechanics and scans it to be reshelved. “You didn’t know.”
“Still, it was inappropriate.”
“I’m not mad,” Foster states reassuringly while shortening the pile before him. “It’s who you are.”
In silence, I place the remaining books, one by one, into his hand, and he goes through the process of checking the bar code for their location. When the final volume has been scanned, I arrange the organized stacks onto a nearby cart to be filed later in the evening, and then I take a seat once again at Foster’s side behind the desk.
“So, Parker’s giving you a hard time?” I ask, edging into the topic that isn’t being discussed.
