Ten

Mitchell was surprised on Wednesday morning when he arrived at Jackson, Jackson & Andrews ahead of his always-prompt partner. Seven more minutes and Chris would be what Mitchell was generally known to be—late. With Chris constantly preaching sermons on annoying little things like how being on time could be the difference between the failure and success of a business, his late arrival would give Mitchell something to needle him about today. He was sure Chris would blame today’s dragging on the sniffles that he battled through yesterday. December’s change of weather had taken a toll on many of the citizens of Dallas. Mitchell felt lucky that he’d not so much as sneezed yet this season.

“The water is already hot,” Barbara said as he spoke to her on his way to his office. “I’ll bring you a cup in just a minute.”

Noting the wad of tissue on Barbara’s desk, Mitchell felt that, just to be on the safe side, he’d excuse her from her morning duties. “No bother, Barbara. I’ll get it myself. Thanks.”

With both her and Chris fighting runny noses and other cold-related symptoms, Mitchell was left to wonder whether his apple cider packed some secret weapon that their coffee didn’t. As he turned the corner and walked through his office’s open door, Mitchell noticed that he was whistling a tune. What the tune was, he wasn’t exactly sure, but it was a good sign. He couldn’t remember the last time he had whistled while he prepared for work.

Today, Mitchell felt more relaxed than he had in weeks. That was mostly due to the fact that he’d had the most restful night he’d had in weeks. He still hadn’t spoken directly with Virtue, but having reached out to her and offered an olive branch of sorts had lightened what he now knew was a burdensome load that had been riding his shoulders for the better part of seven years.

Yesterday he’d sat at his desk and watched his phone, wondering if Virtue would call him as he’d asked and contemplating what he’d say if she did. Twice during the work hours and once after he’d gotten home, Mitchell had picked up the telephone and began dialing the number to her office at the Houston church. It wasn’t until after he’d eaten dinner and was taking his shower that reality finally set in. Virtue had probably gotten his message Monday afternoon. The reason she hadn’t returned his call after more than twenty-four hours was because she didn’t want to. Once Mitchell accepted the truth that she never would, he was able to release much of his anxiety. The disappointment that she’d chosen not to talk to or meet with him continued to linger, but Mitchell recounted the facts and understood her decision. During his prayer time last night, he’d found a level of peace in knowing that he’d tried. After all, trying was all he could do.

“Any word from Chris this morning?” Mitchell asked after putting his belongings in his office and stepping back out into the hallway to fill his cup with water.

“I spoke with him a little earlier,” Barbara called back. “He said he’d be in.”

“Four minutes,” Mitchell whispered with a grin as he looked at the clock on his office wall just before emptying a packet of drink mix in the steaming cup and settling in the chair behind his desk.

Working with Chris sometimes brought out the kid in him. Christopher James Jackson was by all definitions a serious businessman. When it came to the company that his father had founded, Chris didn’t cut corners or do anything with mediocrity. Every completed file had to reek of excellence, and every customer had to feel as if he or she was the most valued one on the roster. Yet, despite his need for perfection, Chris knew how to relax and enjoy life. He was the brother that Mitchell never had. Often-times, Mitchell saw Chris as the poster child for the faithful friend that Solomon spoke of in Proverbs 18:24.

“Man!” he whispered in disappointment at the sound of the front door buzzer. “Two more minutes and I would have had you.”

Getting up from behind his mass of paperwork that he’d just begun working on, Mitchell prepared to walk out and greet his partner, but the ringing of his telephone stopped him in his tracks. He reasoned that he’d just catch Chris when he made his stop in the hall outside his door. Chris never started his morning without coffee. Picking up the telephone, Mitchell said, “Good morning. Mitchell Andrews speaking.”

The voice on the other end of the line had a hint of familiarity, but it was far more raspy than normal.

“Hey, Mitch.”

“Chris?” Mitchell asked after a brief hesitation. “Is that you?”

“Yeah. Hold on a sec.”

Looking again through his open door into the hallway, Mitchell was now confused. He was sure that it was Chris who had entered the front door of the office just moments earlier, but apparently he had guessed wrong. Mitchell held the phone and waited while listening to Chris release a fit of heavy coughs. His cold had worsened.

“I’m not gonna be able to come in today, man,” he growled after he’d caught his breath. “I’m gonna do what I can at my computer here at home, but I don’t want to bring this into the office.”

“And I appreciate that, Wolfman Jack,” Mitchell teased, hoping to conjure up a laugh from his friend. “If you get lonely over there, you might want to send for Barbara. She’s not sounding too good either.”

“Yeah, I spoke to her earlier. She said she wasn’t feeling her best, but she wanted to tough it out. I told her to go on home when you got there, but she told me if I could come in to work sounding like I did, then she could definitely do it.” Chris paused to cough again, but this time it didn’t sound as painful as the first. He begged Mitchell’s pardon and continued. “Since I’m not coming in now and I feel partly responsible for Barbara’s cold, I sent a replacement for her today so she could go on home and get some rest.”

Mitchell frowned. “A replacement?”

“Good morning, Mr. Andrews,” a voice sang from behind him.

Mitchell turned to face the door, and his heart seemed to plummet. Standing in his doorway, dressed in a pair of chocolate-colored corduroy pants and a cream cropped sweater, was Lisa. Mitchell licked his lips in an attempt to ease the sudden dryness. Chris’s hoarse voice did little to break the tension.

“Yeah. I called Lisa. She’s on vacation from work this week, and she’s accustomed to receptionist work. I figured that you’d be way more comfortable having her there with you for a couple of days than having to deal with some stranger from a temp agency.”

You thought wrong. For a minute Mitchell wondered if the comeback had bounced from his brain and had escaped through his lips. He looked back toward the door, and Lisa was still standing there, smiling. It was apparent that his thoughts had remained his own. Just a moment ago, he’d been all for Barbara going home and getting the rest she needed, but that was when Mitchell thought that he’d be manning the office alone. It would be a challenge, but in Mitchell’s mind it wouldn’t be nearly the challenge that he was in for now.

“I’m going to go and lie down now,” Chris said. “I just got a headache that came out of nowhere.”

Me too, Mitchell thought.

“Lisa should be there in a little bit. I’ll call later and check on you after I get some rest. Okay?”

Mitchell bit his lip. A part of him wanted to yell at Chris for sending a replacement without asking whether or not he wanted one. But Mitchell knew that his friend was looking out for the business. He couldn’t rightfully blame Chris for putting him in this uncomfortable position. Chris didn’t know that his girlfriend’s friendliness sometimes felt like forwardness, and Mitchell only had himself to blame for not making it known. Even with his back turned to the door, Mitchell could still sense Lisa’s presence behind him. He could feel her eyes burning into the back of his neck, singeing the hairs on his flesh.

“Mitch? Are you still there?” Chris’s croaky voice pulled him back into reality.

“Yeah,” Mitchell said.

“You’re okay with Lisa filling in, aren’t you? I know you have a lot to do and you’re used to working with Barbara, who rarely ever needs to interrupt you for anything. But it shouldn’t be much different with Lisa. With her skills, she shouldn’t need to bother you too much. She knows her way around an office pretty well. I’ll keep the phone nearby so I can hear it ring. Call me if any fires need to be put out.”

“Don’t worry,” Mitchell said, not sure whether he was trying to convince Chris or himself. “I’ve got everything under control here. You just take care of yourself.”

Ending the phone call and turning to face the door once again, Mitchell found Lisa still standing there as though she were waiting for her orders for the day. She broke into a pearly white grin that magnified the slant in her almond-shaped eyes. Running her fingers through her natural locks, Lisa took two steps inside of Mitchell’s office and looked around as if it were her first time there.

“If it weren’t for the stacks of papers on your desk, I’d say that no one even worked in here. You keep a clean office, Mitchell. That’s odd for most men that I know. It’s a rare but attractive trait to have.”

Although it sounded more like a come-on than a compliment, Mitchell thanked her and then took brisk steps to bring himself back behind his desk. The sooner he set a tone of business, the better. Just as he sat in his chair, Barbara stepped in the doorway behind Lisa and turned down her lips as she readjusted the strap of her pocketbook that hung over her right shoulder.

“Chris is kicking me out,” she announced to Mitchell’s amusement.

He needed the laugh that her dry tone, combined with her facial expression, brought out of him. “I know,” Mitchell said. “Chris just wants to be sure that you’re okay, Barbara. A little bit of rest is probably just what the doctor ordered.”

“Umph,” Barbara grunted. “Well, okay then. Do you want me to stick around and show Lisa a few things before I go? I don’t mind.”

Mitchell saw a chance to erase some of his alone time with Lisa and was just about to take Barbara up on her offer, but Lisa’s response was quicker.

“Oh no, Ms. Barbara,” she assured her, all while giving Barbara a slight nudge to rush her exit. “I do office work five days a week, and we have way more traffic coming through my office than you all have here. Don’t worry about me; I can handle this. You just go home and take care of that cold before it gets any worse.”

When both women disappeared from his office en route to the front of the business, Mitchell closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh that was propelled by exasperation. His vexation was becoming evident again, and Mitchell searched for a way to get it under control. He knew that Lisa would be returning soon, and he didn’t want the tension that her appearance had made to be obvious.

“It’s just one day,” he spoke to himself, hoping that it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

Unlike Chris, Barbara just had a severe case of the sniffles. Mitchell hoped that her condition wouldn’t worsen overnight like Chris’s had. He reasoned within himself that he could somehow pull himself together and ignore his suspicions about Lisa for one day. Having to put on a façade of comfort for any longer, though, might be more of a challenge than he could handle.

As normal, Mitchell turned his radio on and tuned in to one of his favorite local stations. Good music helped him to work better. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. Grandma Kate had an old piano that his grandfather had bought her, and she played daily during the childhood years that Mitchell spent in their home. There was something about the melody the piano offered that seemed to sharpen his mind. The best time for studying or doing his homework was when his grandmother’s fingers danced across the ivory keys.

By the time he was ten, his love for the music had turned into an interest in the instrument itself. Mitchell could remember the day he’d played his first piece by ear. It shocked both his grandparents. He had watched his grandmother play many times, but Mitchell had never had any formal lessons. It was an inborn gift that none of them realized he had. By the time he was thirteen, his technique was like that of a man who’d had classical training.

“My, my, my,” Mitchell recalled Kate saying one day as she sat on the sofa and tapped her feet to the rhythm of the tune he played. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a regular ole Little Richard on our hands.”

Pulling the newspaper away from his face and repositioning his after-dinner stogy in the side of his mouth, Mitchell’s grandfather had muttered an oath and then grunted the words, “I shole hope not.”

When he’d met Virtue in the store that day and soon thereafter found out that she was a dance major, it felt as if their being together was inevitable. He’d never accompanied her as she danced, but he had a portable keyboard that he’d play sometimes, just to show off for her. Virtue liked that. They enjoyed many of the same things and shared similar long-term aspirations for their lives. They had been the perfect match . . . until he started drinking.

Memories of hitting Virtue threatened to form in his head, but Mitchell pushed them away and replaced them with more pleasant thoughts. Their wedding was the second most exciting moment of his life. It had to take a backseat to the wedding night. Mitchell closed his eyes for a moment and lost himself in the memories.

He recalled the soft music and the scent of vanilla that filled the room from the candles that provided the only light they needed. He remembered the feel of Virtue’s skin. It felt like fresh rose petals beneath the touch of his hands. She wore a long, satin, peach-colored gown that night—Mitchell remembered it like it was yesterday. He recalled the sultry way it covered her body and the flowing way it fell from her at the command of his fingers. Everything about that night and many of the nights that followed was etched in Mitchell’s mind like the permanent carvings on an Egyptian wall. He had yearned for his role as Virtue’s husband many times over the past years, but it had been quite some time since he’d missed her like he did today. Every kiss, every curve, every touch . . .

“Mitchell, are you all right?”

Mitchell opened his eyes and found that the hand that gently touched his cheek wasn’t attached to the woman in his daydreams. Quickly pulling his face away, Mitchell glanced up at Lisa, who stood at his desk with a look of concern on her face.

“Are you all right?” she repeated.

“I’m fine,” Mitchell said without hesitation. His embarrassment from her catching him drifting to another place and time was overshadowed by his curiosity as to why she was standing over him in the first place. “Do you need something?” he asked.

“No. I was just stopping in to see if you needed something when I noticed that you appeared to be falling asleep at your desk.”

Mitchell readjusted his chair and grabbed a folder from the stack on his desk. “I’m fine, Lisa,” he reassured her. “You can just stay up front and take care of the incoming calls. I have a lot of work to do, so if you can take messages for me, I’d appreciate it. Other than that, I think I can handle it. Thanks.”

Lisa chuckled as she began taking a few steps away. It wasn’t a laugh of humor, but the one that Mitchell defined as the titter that preceded the flirt. She almost always did it right before one of her playful touches or just before some dubious remark that Mitchell found unnerving. And this time was no different. Just before reaching the doorway, Lisa turned and flashed him one of the smiles that flaunted just how beautiful she really was.

“Christopher told me to come in and help you out in whatever way you needed,” she said. “So you’d better take advantage of my skills while you have me all to yourself.”

It wasn’t what she said as much as it was the way that she said it. There seemed to be special emphasis placed on “whatever” and “skills.” Anybody else could have said those same words and Mitchell wouldn’t be reading between the lines for their true meaning. But with Lisa he did. Watching her turn and walk away with a slow, exaggerated sway of her hips, Mitchell took a sip from his lukewarm drink and opened the file he’d retrieved earlier.

“It’s just one day,” he said, whispering the reminder to himself and hoping that the hands of the clock on the wall in front of him would read his thoughts and cooperate.