Her Mom & I Share a Birthday Pt. 01

"So that Professor who wrote you such a glowing recommendation, did you date his daughter too?" he snapped.

"He was 82nd in Vietnam; he had Master Jump Wings; he had a Silver Star; we had a shared heritage; and I ace'd his courses on my own." I was about to come off the couch.

"Enough!!" snapped/yelled Mrs. Jordan. I flinched; his eyes went wide. He sat; I leaned back.

"Robert, stick to the script, and both of you step out of the ring and dial down the testosterone!!!" came the very firm direction at about 100dB.

"Oh my," whispered Charlotte as she leaned in.

He held up his hands and said, "OK-OK, that was too far." Slight hesitation, "I apologize," he said.

"As do I, Sir," I said holding up her hand, though, as a nonverbal signal of staying together.

Wait, What script? Is the lawyer running the show?

Charlotte whispered, "I got this."

She leaned forward, "Daddy," she paused a second. "I'm happy Daddy. I haven't been happy for over three years. But I'm happy now--very happy. I was attracted to him the first time I met him, and I suppose, maybe I should have not met him again once I knew he worked for you, but I enjoyed the encounters. And it wasn't a lie or a deception about the champagne-it really was for Mom. Afterwards, he was just buying time until he and I could talk, and I could explain why I was stand-offish and we could then figure out how to talk to you. We were still trying to figure out what to do." She looked over at her Mom.

"Until Mom moved us off dead center tonight," she concluded.

Her Mom gave a little wave of thanks.

'Oh yeah,' I thought, "She "talked" me right out of my virginity and into a love affair with the Boss' daughter and a job on the Northern Tier.'

He looked at her, then to his wife who nodded slightly, and then back to her.

"So you two are in love?"

And there it is, the $64,000 question.

I hesitated, deferring; she answered promptly.

"Yes. Yes we are," she replied.

"And you Sergeant?" he asked.

"Until I met your daughter, I had no idea what love was," I did not hesitate.

He leaned forward, taking a deep breath.

Mrs. Jordan interrupted, "Bob, remember when you were head over heels in love?"

He smiled, "Still am."

He leaned back and relaxed.

"OK, Charles, this is close hold until announced, but I had decided a while back to keep you here in Standards and Compliance. Now, as you well know 'cause we rotated you through there twice on purpose, it's the same as being an FE, You will not make many friends, but as long as you are fair, it will turn out well for the company and for you. There's more training before we send you out. But you'll learn more about the business in a year than most people learn in 10. You'll be here two years, maybe three before you move, and you'll be on the road probably three weeks each month once qualified. So plan on living somewhere near DEN."

"As long as he's home for Saturday night, that works," Charlotte chirped, squeezing my hand really hard. The little tart!

"One more thing, you and M-m-m- Charlotte --both of you are grown-ups, or 30 somethings at least. This part could seem unfair, but your Mother and I are asking that if by some very unlikely and extremely remote chance this works out with you two, hold off an engagement for a couple of years and please be discrete in the meantime."

Pointing at me, "Neither you or I need the load of grief that will come our way. The CEO is a real stickler on just a few things, and this is one. He wants the best hire for the company, not someone's nephew."

I turned to her. Simultaneously we gave a nanometer of a nod. I flicked my eyes over at him. She got the cue.

"I'm sorry Daddy; we won't be a problem."

We all stood. Charlotte went one way and hugged her Dad. Mrs. Jordan came up next to me and softly said, "If things work out, I'll give you the bottle as a memento. And real nice move about grandkids; you sure you're not a lawyer?"

I just gave her a side hug and drifted to the door. Charlotte was making her way over to me.

He motioned to me, "A word, please, Charles."

"Sir?" I said, as they stepped out.

"Sergeant, she's our only child, and you may not know, and it's none of your business, but it is mine. She's been hurt before. Do you receive me?"

"Yes sir," I almost saluted out of reflex. I stopped in time and put out my hand, "Five by five sir. Man will travel faster than the speed of light before I would hurt her."

He shook it.

I caught up with her and her Mom at the door, and asked where her coat was. It's December in Denver, but she had left it in the car; she was in a rush to get in the house. I had done the same, so I put my jacket around her and we walked down to the cul-de-sac. She was trembling so I held her close.

"Look, I am truly sorry for all this. I had -- have - such a crush on you--- and so when I saw you, I--I mean---I just----."

"Shhhhh," she said. "Dad's a real stickler for the rules; Mom too. Growing up with him was tough sometimes---teenage female hormones were something he never remotely understood, and now here is this guy panting over his daughter."

"Ah. I'll ignore the panting dig, but darn good thing I did not accept your Grandmother's offer of an edible. What if he had seen that?"

She chuckled. "She went to Woodstock, she never got out of the 60s. How Mom became who she is I'll never figure out. And she throws it at Dad all the time. Oh, we call her Grannie--like the dresses she always wears."

We got to our vehicles, being early I had parked beside her.

She started to reach in her purse for her keys, but I steered her to mine. "We'll pick it up tomorrow; we're both exhausted; let's be together."

She did not resist. I opened the door for her.

As I came around, she was getting a text.

"Who's that at this hour?" I asked.

"Mom," she said. "She wanted to know if you always opened the door for me. I told her yes."

We both looked at the house and saw the front door close.

As I backed up, she yawned, stretched, and said "I wish this had a bench seat; I'd like to put my head on your shoulder like they did in the 60s."

"Those were the days," I agreed.

She was asleep before we got to the Mousetrap.

POST MORTEM

We slept late--exhaustion. My place was closer which meant by the time we got moving, got back to her car, and then to her condo, it was approaching noon. At least she wasn't walking into her sorority house in last night's dress. We were both quiet until we got to a place for brunch and the Mimosas boosted our sugar level and loosened our tongues. After the fully loaded Belgian waffles were consumed, we were ready to get to work.

So the world did not end with our being found out, the reality of my staying in Denver for a while longer removed a huge amount of stress, and we did not have to approach each night like it was our last one together.

We replayed last night, sharing what each other was thinking as the night went on. She told me her Mother was very supportive and thrilled for her, but as was pointed out, we put her Dad in a tough position both as a Father and the VP. He's still willing to kill the first guy on sight, so there was the protective caveman to address. But the nepotism issue is a true force to be reckoned with. Up against which was the fact that before full disclosure, he cashed in some chips to get me into Stan-Eval as a first job. Usually it's 10 years at least, which in and of itself is huge pressure on both him and me. Sure I have 10+ years of experience over my fellow new hires, but not with Martin. Which means he's whipsawed by happiness for his daughter and by the risk for going out on a limb for me. So he takes the risk; I take the pressure.

But being the Type A's we are, there were immediate problems to solve. Where to live being the first. She owned her condo but it was in Cherry Creek, 25 miles from the airport. And she had friends from school and her work and the neighborhood. I was currently in Aurora. Her place was two bedrooms, with one being a home office/storage/Peloton. Everything I owned would fit in the back of my truck. Getting a house made no sense as I would be gone a lot and yard work and snow removal require one's presence. Moving in with her would not work for space and gossip reasons. So I'll get an apartment to serve as a closet and a shower. Stay there Friday night when I get home and she is with friends, then Saturday we're together because from her friend's point of view, she was never available after late Saturday afternoon. She was always somewhere else. The week or weeks I was in town I would stay with her as her Mom and Dad were not prone to drop by.

ONE DAY THESE UNPLEASANTRIES WILL BE REGARDED AS HAPPY MEMORIES

Problem solved. On to the next.

We owe her Mother a huge debt. Charlotte will take her to lunch soonest, I am paying her a separate visit. I got an appointment for Tuesday afternoon; Charlotte has lunch Wednesday.

Tuesday I take a late lunch out--it's getting close to Christmas so there's flexibility for shopping. This is a good place to work by the way. Anyway, I wear a tie and jacket and arrive early. The secretary comes out, retrieves me and walks me to a corner office. She's not on the letterhead, but it's a very nice view. For the benefit of the secretary, she refers to me as Mr. Rone and waves to the chairs in front of the desk.

"Mr. Rone, good to see you again," she says as the door closes.

"You as well," I respond listening for the click.

"Well Charles," she says as she leans back. "This is a surprise. You need legal advice this soon?"

"Just a bit; but first a brief soliloquy if you would indulge me," I reply.

She frowns and shakes her head. "You have the most unusual vocabulary for someone of your generation."

I smile. "I read a lot growing up, and on deployment to the Sand Box. In the back of the C-17, I could read a whole book on one trip across the pond, and that's where I completed college. Most professors let me read the material, do the papers, make class when I could and take the final. There was a war on you know."

"So you've asked for 30 minutes; my rate is $400 an hour; what's on your mind."

"Cool," I say. "Charlotte still owes me $200. Ask her to pay you tomorrow."

"I can do that; I do work for her as well. I'll add it to her bill. She'll squeal of course. And with that, you have the floor."

"I owe you a debt I cannot repay. To be sure, no one knows the future and reality bites and so forth. But it was crystal clear to me that without your intervention and reasoning, Charlotte and I would not have had a chance to plead our innocence, much less have a chance to see what our future holds. I know Mr. Jordan said he had already decided on my assignment, but that could have changed once you and he compared notes and we were, for lack of a better word, caught. I am relieved and grateful."

She hesitated, "No thanks needed, but you are indeed welcome. And your insight is pretty accurate. He was caught between his love for her, his hopes for you and the rules of the company."

She continued, "But tell me this, what if she had told you early on?"

"Do you want me to get analytical, without the emotional component? It's hard to split the two," I observed.

She waved me to continue without answering.

"Well, for the reasons I mentioned a moment ago, I have not dated much. And I wasn't out looking to meet someone when she and I did meet. I was focused only on my new job. This would be a lot easier if I had majored in 18th century French poetry or Shakespeare's 100 or so sonnets, but I'm an analytical/spreadsheet guy. So--------percentage of first meetings that turn into a second that turn into a tenth that turn into a fiftieth excluding cohabitation without befit of clergy...."

She snorted.

"Hold on, it's coming together. Where was I? Oh, adjusting for strongly held opinions- politics, pets, kids, and such. Apply the percentage that end in divorce, divide by the square root of pi, and then, let's see, carry the nine. Yeah, I would have stuck around."

"That's very glib," she reprimanded.

"Maybe, ma'am, but it's my way of acknowledging on the fly it's complicated. Look, the very first time I met her I had to concentrate to keep from stammering. And it got worse the more I got to know her. After the birthday event, when we were sorting it all out, I told her then she had the je ne sais quoi quality. She still does. Factor that into my ad hoc social relationship equation, and the answer is, I would have asked Mr. Jordan for permission to court her and when that was refused, I would have found work elsewhere. I've got a strong transcript, military service, and a clean record----and money in the bank to boot. Denver is a big town; I would have found something. And I would court her in the open. Play golf, play poker, smoke cigars with Mr. Jordan. And succeed at some other company."

"Easy, now," she cautioned. "That tone does not suit you," she admonished.

As usual I started blushing. Back-peddle in a hurry I told myself, this is the only one in your corner with the necessary stroke to bail you out. And realizing what I had done, my lower lip started quivering.

"Yes, ma'am. I apologize. I'm still a little raw. That just came out in the moment," I offered, lip still quivering.

She stared at me for a moment, then leaned back and threw up her hands.

"Oh for fuck's sake, you've got it so bad for her," she exclaimed. "Geez, and I thought her calling me a couple times a day was over the top."

I knew to stay silent.

"Apparently you have some knowledge about what we went through three years ago. Let me tell you, keeping your only child from jumping off a bridge and then returning 100 plus wedding gifts and then keeping up a façade for friends and not quite friends took a toll on all of us. Her most of all of course. So here all of sudden she is happy and it turns out she's involved with her Dad's top intern. And not just involved but draw his initials all over her notebooks level involved. Lord, the stories you will not be able to tell your kids. So ignore my snapping; I apologize," she concluded.

A long drink from her water bottle and then, "We're still on the clock; what's really on your mind?"

A deep sigh of relief, I had not burned a bridge. "It's clearly a long road we are facing. How do I win his trust back?"

"Good question. There's no easy answer. Time of course. Keep your head down. Following his direction and mentoring, certainly. He has a personal stake in your success as you unwittingly discovered. And then a little more time. Charlotte is sociable, but not necessarily social if you catch my meaning. After the "incident", she pretty much withdrew. When you appeared, a change occurred. And I as her mother would like to see that continue. So would her grandmother. Encourage that if you can."

She paused.

"And here's some insider information; treat it accordingly. Be your own man. Don't worry about being his friend. The other guy was, or pretended to be as it turns out. He already has golfing and hunting buddies, which I gather are not your interests. Cigars are nasty, and both Charlotte and I need to quit indulging when the stress factor is high, by the way. Now poker, that may be a necessary job skill. Charlotte can teach you, she's pretty good. Or better yet, you've no doubt got some time off before you start the new position I imagine, so take her to Vegas, let her show you the ropes, and let off some steam. Go enjoy each other."

I nodded, appreciatively; and sighed in relief.

She continued, "Let's give the sequestration a little time, say until April 1, and maybe we all can stumble into each other for a quiet lunch."

"Cheyenne? Limon?" I said.

"Maybe not that far; it's awfully windy up there, and Limon, really?" she grinned.

I nodded, and stood, offering my hand.

"I won't disappoint you," I said as we shook.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

It's Wednesday before the Christmas weekend. It took some discussion, but we eventually agreed she should stay and be the dutiful daughter. Victor shut down the show for the holidays. There were reruns -- at a fee of course. We will go to South Carolina for the "Meet My Mom" weekend later in January, before I start the new job February 1.

And the Vegas suggestion was well received. The more we talked about it, we realized neither had had a vacation in quite a while. For me, vacations were the travel time between assignments. Vincent's gig took up a lot of her time over the last couple of years, and she said hanging with friends who were married, as in all of them, was depressing.

So she'll set it up for the week after New Years. Maybe I can take it off my taxes as a professional networking course. Of course, I was advised she needed to shop some to be adequately attired. Borrowing from Victor was tempting, but it could lead to misunderstandings in the casinos. She had convinced Granny to go along with her (which I encouraged per the deal with the lawyer). Granny regarded shopping for dresses as "bourgeois frivolity", but hanging out with Charlotte and a couple of her friends was tolerable. I was clearly not invited, but my credit card was.

Anyway----

Her Mom asked to see me before I left, and I had shopped as well. For old times' sake, we met at the Hilton for "tea". She had a large bag; I had a smaller one.

Pleasantries exchanged, drinks and appetizer ordered.

Small talk, and then I stated the obvious, "Been shopping?"

"Obviously," she said. "It's a little too big to hide in my purse." She pulled it up to the table. It was a Carhartt work jacket, insulated and lined. "It'll come in handy sooner rather than later; Mr. Jordan suggested it." The "Mr." no doubt intended to keep us at arm's length per the Midnight Peace Accords.

I was sincere in my thanks. Coming from the South my understanding of what was needed to survive at a cold Northern Tier warehouse and truck ramp was sorely lacking.

And now it was my turn. I had told Charlotte I wanted to give her Mother a gift from me. Not to gain favor, but to express appreciation for all she had done.

I put the box on the table. It was from Tiffany's. She sucked in her breath. It was not a ring box of course; it was 10 x 10 and contained a Tiffany scarf in browns and blues and patterns. It struck me as being very Colorado when I saw it.

It was well received. Exclamations of it being too much were offset by a quickly concocted confession of a steady diet of Ramen to save up. She was gracious. Charlotte tried it on first. "Nice," she said as she surrendered it.

"Your turn, Mi---." I drug it out like I was about to say Missy. She raised her eyebrows. I laughed and handed her the same box.

"Oh," she pouted. "I get the same thing? And then, "I thought we were waiting until tonight?"

"Well, I was in the store and you know, two birds, one stone. And I still have something for tonight."

She opened it and froze. "What's this?" she said as she pulled out a piece of paper. It was a tracing of a lady's right hand with an X on the knuckle of the ring finger.

She looked at it, then at me, then back at it.

"As you recall, one of the terms of the Midnight Peace Accords was no engagement for a while. But nothing was said about the right hand. When we're done here, let's go downstairs and y'all see if there is something that would work on that finger."

Her Mother leaned back, folded her arms and shook her head.

Charlotte flushed and fought back tears. I gave her my handkerchief, and she dabbed away.

Her Mom then summoned a waiter and ordered another round. She turned to us and said, "I'm free the rest of the afternoon. Let's go shopping."