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That was a woman Elizabeth Pritchard would never forget, nor was she going to allow Annabelle to forget her. Every year after the faire, she went through the same depression, similar to the post-con blues she experienced after a particularly fun convention. It happened after having such a fantastic time with friends, transporting herself to a whole new world, and then abruptly being parted from the world they’d created.
“Back to normal life,” she muttered to herself. It was Monday morning and she stood in front of her mirror, rifling through and discarding make-up ideas. If only she had Annabelle’s talent with the stuff. It was clear the younger woman knew how to apply eyeliner. She’d worn it in a perfect little wing at the corner of each eye every weekend during the faire.
In the end, Elizabeth stuck with her usual moisturizer-only look and just a bit of mascara to widen her pale green eyes. She slicked clear lip gloss over her soft pout and then smiled at the mirror. Her instinct as a management consultant was far more important than her face. She hadn’t earned her place at the office by being pretty. She’d earned it by reeling in the big fish, the most prestigious and lucrative accounts.
Walking into the office wasn’t any different than last week or the week before that, except for the realization that her weekends were empty once again. She hated the idea of falling into the trap of bringing work home all the time. A love life would have been pretty darn nice, if only Annabelle was open to her invitation.
Not that other women weren’t an option. Elizabeth could have had anyone she wanted. But Annabelle was clearly different. The lady-in-waiting from the faire seemed lodged in her thoughts, a constant presence. A mysterious and lovely presence to which Elizabeth did not object. Especially since her last girlfriend found the entire ren faire scene ridiculous.
It was hard enough meeting an interesting woman, what with working sixty or more hours a week. And interesting was the name of the game. Elizabeth had wooed a number of women at rival companies, at networking events, at cocktail parties. But they never lasted. The problem was they were just what she expected, each and every one of them the same. And their problem with Elizabeth was her affinity for the unexpected – historical reenactment and sci-fi movies. By the time she actually got to know the women who moved in the same social and business circles as her, and they got to know her, her romantic options narrowed considerably.
Annabelle, however, was nothing like those women. In the time Elizabeth had spent with her, she’d learned her newest lady-in-waiting was smart, sharp, and hilarious. It took time for Annabelle to let down her guard, but the few times she did, Elizabeth had caught glimpses of the woman underneath the guarded facade. As the faire progressed, Elizabeth realized she wanted to know more about Annabelle. Even now, those dark eyes permeated her thoughts, silently daring her to learn their secrets.
“What’s the word, boss?” Georgina, the analyst she was mentoring, matched her stride. Their shoes hit the carpeted floor with a gentle thud, thud, thud. No clacking of high heels here. Elizabeth preferred these plush offices to the slicker offices where she’d first worked after college. There was something cozy about them.
“We’ve got the Yates Group presentation at ten. Are you ready for it?”
“So ready.” George reminded Elizabeth of herself when she was younger – mentally agile, tenacious, and willing to do whatever it took to land the account. They stopped just outside Elizabeth’s office and she placed her hand on the young woman’s shoulder.
“Remember,” she said, “going in for the kill isn’t always about being pushy or aggressive. It’s about showing them we know what’s best for them. Speak softly and carry a big stick, just like Roosevelt said. In our case, our big stick is that we’ve identified problems a potential client doesn’t even know exists. They have to know we’re the people who can fix those problems. Got it?”
George nodded vigorously and Elizabeth remembered doing the same almost twenty years ago, taking in everything her own mentor had to offer. Now the man who’d taught her was running the company and Elizabeth was in his shoes. Just what she’d always dreamed of for her career.
“I’ll see you in there. And take off that lipstick. Mr. Yates can’t stand the stuff.” She turned and sauntered into her office.
“How do you know that?” George leaned against the doorway and Elizabeth saw her reach up to touch her lips. The bright red was certainly flattering, especially with George’s long, dark hair and dark brown eyes.
“Trust me. He likes his women to be delicate. Go with something pink.”
George pouted and folded her arms. “That’s so sexist.”
“Sexist, yes. But land this account and then next time you see him, it won’t matter, because the old boys’ club will have to listen to this new girls’ club.”
“Awww, yeah.” George did a little dance and then flitted away to, Elizabeth hoped, tone down the lipstick.
It was one of the things she hated most about her industry – that it was dominated by middle-aged white men who thought everything should be a certain way. Elizabeth knew plenty of talented people who didn’t fit that mold and she was determined to bring more of them into the firm. Her accomplishments so far at diversifying the staff was a source of personal pride.
She didn’t need to worry at all about landing their next client. George had changed to a more conservative lipstick, but that paled in comparison to how she spoke to their potential client. The meeting was a slam dunk, thanks to the junior analyst’s presentation. It felt good to sit back and let her apprentice show off. George had a bright future and once the paperwork was signed, Elizabeth took her out for lunch to celebrate.
“Here’s to the two of us landing one of the biggest accounts our company has ever seen,” Elizabeth toasted.
“Yes!” George raised her glass and they chimed together. “I love working with you. You’ve been the best mentor I could have ever asked for. This wouldn’t be possible without everything you’ve taught me.”
This was one of Elizabeth’s favorite aspects of her job – helping her co-workers grow and become empowered, especially young women. “I’m so glad,” she said. “But this isn’t just about me. It’s about what you’ve learned and how you’re applying it. You’ll go far in this world.”
“I hope so. My father will be proud when I tell him about this.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth set down her wine glass, cut into her chicken piccata, and savored a bite of the juicy meat.
“Yeah. My mom passed away when I was in college, but my dad and his wife will be happy I’m doing so well. It feels good when I can make them proud, especially since my little sister does the complete opposite.”
Elizabeth’s face fell. “I know how that goes. My family was really proud of me. Not so much my sister, especially after she married a guy who convinced her that I'm a bad person, just for being a lesbian. I haven't heard from her in years. She didn't even speak to me at our parents’ funeral. So I know how tricky family matters can be.”
Now it was George who looked horrified. “That's awful. You're this fantastic person, with so many accomplishments. Your sister should be proud she’s related to you.”
Elizabeth shrugged. After so many years of estrangement, she was sort of over it. But she would never completely be able to reconcile herself with the fact that her sister had turned on her. “Anyway, I do have good news. I met someone at the ren faire this year and I’m hoping she’ll go out with me.”
“Ooh,” George trilled in a sing-song voice. “Tell me all about her.”
“She's kind of a mystery, actually. She didn't want to give me her name or a date, but I managed to slip her my number anyway.”
“Nice. Has she called?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I'm kind of afraid she won't, but I can always hit up the faire organizer to ask about her.”
“Any woman who wouldn’t call you is crazy. It’s her own fault if she doesn’t see what she’s missing out on.”
It was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her, but Elizabeth waved it off. “I’m just me,” she muttered.
“Well, I like that you're looking to date,” George remarked. “It feels like all you ever do is work. You deserve a good woman in your life, someone who will rub your feet when you get home and ask how your day has been. It’s got to be pretty lonely at the top.”
It was the truth and Elizabeth bobbed her head in acknowledgement. “I can't keep doing those sixty hour weeks. It's past time I make room for someone else.”
George's mouth fell open and she shook her head. “Wait. You aren't leaving the company, are you?”
“No, nothing like that.” Elizabeth laughed, tears of mirth stinging at her eyes. “What a thing to ask me, George. Really! It's just that I'm ready for a change of pace. Someday, you’ll replace me, you know.”
“Yeah, but only because you’ll be a partner, right?” The look that flitted across George's face was sad.
Elizabeth shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, it was my original goal out of the MBA program, but I'm not so sure now. Being at the mercy of a boss’s whims isn't so appealing these days.”
It was something she realized during this year's faire, that her ambitions had changed. To what, she didn't know yet. She just knew there was something niggling at the back of her mind, giving her a feeling of being out of place. Maybe it was just loneliness, but she knew she had to explore it.
“Anyway, it’s not a big deal. Forget I said anything. I just want you to know how proud I am of your achievement today. You will go far.” As much as Elizabeth wanted to keep going, she clamped her lips together. It wouldn’t do to overstep the boundaries of professionalism, to tell George how she really saw her – like a little sister. In a way, mentoring her filled an emotional void left by Elizabeth’s own sister rejecting her.
After lunch, it was back to the grind, but there was a thread of hope running through her, something she clung to with both hands. Elizabeth meant it when she told George she didn’t see herself staying much longer. Even though she couldn’t pinpoint why or how she felt what she felt, she knew it was there. Some nebulous sensation of no longer quite belonging.
Maybe after five years of playing the queen at the ren faire, she knew something had to change. Of course, she realized nothing stayed the same in life. People changed. A path she’d once been so sure of no longer felt right to her.
Elizabeth let a sigh drift from her lips as she turned through the pages of the latest proposal she’d written for a potential client. It lacked the usual punch, the clarity she used to bring to her job. If she gave it to George, that would change. She was the one with the drive and ambition these days, not Elizabeth.
Her life, she realized, was in a transitory phase. She just wished she knew where it would bring her.
Even though it was a Monday and she’d lingered over a long lunch, Elizabeth left the office early. She remembered she was low on her favorite yogurt, so she pulled into the nearby parking lot for the super-sized discount department store. The name of the store with yellow spokes to the side of the store’s name announced where she was in large, blue letters. It wasn’t a place she tended to visit. In her experience, the stores were crowded and messy, and she hated the idea of spending her money on a company whose business practices she abhorred.
But she could stomach the convenience of stopping there once or twice a year, so she smiled back at the elderly greeter and made her way to the supermarket section. After putting two cases of yogurt in her basket, she slowly wandered up front, to the cash registers.
As tempting as the cute t-shirts in the women’s section were, she walked by them. She’d give her hard-earned money to an independent artist to make something similar, of better quality. The same went for the books. As much as she loved to read, she couldn’t abide by the idea of censorship. For a brief moment, she pondered putting the yogurt back into the refrigerated case.
Then she looked up at the cashier in the express lane and couldn’t help but smile.
The girl finished assisting another customer with purchases and turned to meet Elizabeth’s gaze. That black hair was pulled back in a braid, revealing several piercings on one ear and just one earring dangling from the other. Her eyelashes fluttered down and up again in a slow blink as she processed Elizabeth’s presence.
“Well, hey there, Annabelle.” Elizabeth stepped up to her cash register and unloaded the yogurt onto the conveyer belt. There was no way she’d go anywhere, now. “I can’t believe I managed to find you again. You weren’t going to call me, were you?”
Annabelle’s gaze swept down to the yogurt. “Will that be all?” she asked, a hint of a quaver in her voice. It gave Elizabeth goose bumps to know she’d surprised her.
“No,” she whispered, “I’d like a date, as well.”
Annabelle kept her focus on the yogurt as she rang up the purchase. “That’ll be fourteen ninety-seven,” was all she said.
“Look, I know where you work,” Elizabeth told her as she pulled out her debit card and inserted it in the chip reader. “So why don’t you stop playing coy and let me ask you out?” She took as long as she could to process the transaction. So far, no one was behind her yet. As long as she didn’t risk pissing off another customer, she wouldn’t budge.
“Have a nice day.” Annabelle handed her the receipt and put the bag with the yogurts on top of the bagging carousel.
Elizabeth stood her ground. “Seriously. I know it’s only been one day, but I have a feeling you’re not going to call me. So I’m just going to put it out there and say I like you.”
“Why?” Annabelle finally looked up at her, though her gaze flicked toward the store.
“Something about your sass, I think. It’s adorable. Even when you were playing my lady-in-waiting, I could see it. No renaissance dress could diminish that. So what do you say? Just one dinner with me.”
Annabelle still looked nervous, her gaze roving around the store and then the front area. “We’re total opposites. Look at you and then look at me. Why would someone in an expensive suit want to date a cashier who works here, of all places?”
A little chuckle shook Elizabeth. “Maybe because of those differences. Don’t judge people by their outward appearance, Annabelle. I don’t.” She tilted her head in what she hoped was a winsome manner. It’d melted many a female heart in college, her MBA program, and at networking events. Why not now?
Annabelle’s shoulders dropped a little, tension appearing to release from her, at least somewhat. “I’ll give you my number. I have kind of a tough schedule to work around, though.” Once again, she glanced around as if afraid of something. “Here.” She reached for Elizabeth’s receipt, which Elizabeth was only too happy to return. When she received it back, Annabelle’s number was at the bottom.
“You’ll be hearing from me soon,” Elizabeth assured her before backing away from the cash register, with a smile she found impossible to erase.