9: Meddling

Working for the vice president Mr. James was much different than working for the financer Mr. James had been. Though Andrew James’ schedule was often full from the moment he walked in the door until the end of business hours, the meetings were seldom in his office or required anything afterwards from Evelyn.

She handled phone calls, and with some simple direction, assumed responsibility for Mr. James' schedule, then retrieved records for his review prior to his meetings. Aside from boxing and moving account records, the most strenuous part of her day consisted of sorting his incoming mail and getting him fresh coffee in the few minutes between meetings before he was off again. On her own desk, her typewriter was growing dusty, and she couldn't recall the last time she'd had need of her notepad.

To make herself more useful, Evelyn began studying Andrew James carefully. Attempting to anticipate his needs, she grew attuned to the rhythms of his life and body quickly. Within a couple weeks, she was picking up on his subtle mood changes and recognizing his various habits and telling mannerisms, similar to the way she did with Lily.

She quickly learned Mr. James was grumpy in the mornings, particularly if he missed breakfast or coffee, and especially on Mondays. It took only one weekend and inadvertenly discovering some hastily scratched personal notes to recognize this happened because he was returning to his family home on Friday evenings to see his adopted children, spending the weekends trying to get to know them better and understand their desires and needs. The stress of the additional trip each week caught up with him Monday after his late return to his city apartment Sunday night.

Though he disliked intrusions in general, he was especially peeved and prone to a ruthless correction if the interloper had the audacity to do so to address him angrily. She even knew he kept a spare Kit Kat candy bar hidden in his desk, for days when something was especially upsetting, but never a flask.

With little correspondence to manage and a predominantly absentee boss, Evelyn focused her time on Mr. James’ request to move his brother’s records upstairs. This left her time unobserved to look through Russell James’ documentation to try to piece together what had been going on in the same way she suspected Andrew had.

There could be little doubt he had suspicions about Mrs. Stiles, and thus cued, Evelyn set about subtly learning more about the woman. Inevitably, the two processes collided one day when she stumbled accidentally upon the documents and notes Andrew James had collected after his own search through his brother’s records.

Realizing what the folder was, Evelyn glanced at her watch. Mr. James had only just left for his last meeting of the morning, one that would carry over lunch, doubtless at some high-end restaurant where he and the financer he was working with would negotiate with their client until early afternoon. Darting around the partially packed boxes pushed against the walls, she closed the door quietly and returned to Mr. James’ desk.

It felt strange and strangely empowering to take a seat in his giant chair behind the expensive executive desk, and Evelyn giggled at how silly she must appear, then concentrated on what she was doing. Though Mr. James' handwriting left much to be desired, Evelyn eventually managed to get through Andrew’s notes enough to understand the list of names accompanying them. Leaning against the chairback, she stared at the words of an open letter that had been returned, the delivery address—a post office box in California— written in Russell James’ hand.

 'She’s found you. Keep away.'

Evelyn glanced at the list of names again. Andrew was investigating his brother’s contacts, meticulously weeding through every one, and the collected list were the ones he was still seeking information to exclude. Though several names were struck through— clearly ones he’d determined innocuous—the list was long. And with as little time as he spent in the office, might potentially take more than a year to get through. Unless…

Recognizing many of the names herself, she knew the associated accounts well. Those she didn’t know she suspected she would come across while packing Russell James’ records now that she knew to pay closer attention. Rising from Andrew’s chair, she carefully put his folder back where she’d found it. Then she examined the contents of each of the partially packed boxes, pulling a few account records into a small pile. Setting them in the middle of Andrew’s desk, she slipped out to hers and scribbled a brief note of explanation to leave with them.

**

Especially exhausted after this afternoon’s account meetings, Andrew returned to his office. He was sick of dealing with vendors for the World's Fair, and his endeavors with the Los Angeles Union Passenger Terminal construction were constantly in need of his attention as the grand opening of the terminal drew near.

Evelyn was already gone for the day—in fact he’d seen her walking with Lily Henderson as his car had pulled up to the Trust. As expected, she’d made good progress on the packing in Russell’s office. By the end of the week, she'd likely be done.

He frowned at a pile of records, neatly stacked and centered on his desk. Approaching, he stared at the note in her fine hand:

'Misfiled account records. Please review and provide direction.' 

That was irregular.

Heretofore Evelyn had seemed quite comfortable relocating anything she found misfiled. He glanced at his watch. It was already after five, and he wanted to go home, relax and drown his headache with a brandy and listen to the city wind down for the evening on his penthouse balcony.

Instead, he took a seat with a sigh, then dialed the lobby operator. “It’s Andrew James. Have my driver return for me in an hour.”

Setting the phone down, he opened the second drawer on the right. He shuffled the contents aside and removed the Kit Kat bar he kept hidden there. Opening the first file, he began to read as he opened the candy bar. Suddenly a name leapt off the page at him, and Andrew’s heart started racing.

Rising, he removed a folder from a shelf Evelyn hadn’t yet begun packing and quickly flipped to the list he’d made of Russell’s contacts. Skimming it, he realized they were the same. Still standing, he reviewed the account folder and determined this contact, like the others he’d already identified and removed from the list, required no further investigation.

Andrew crossed the name off his list, then carefully tucked the folder back in its hiding place. Taking a seat at his desk again, he snapped off a piece of the candy bar, put it in his mouth and opened the next account folder.

Reading, he soon encountered another name that seemed familiar and a suspicion dawned. Andrew broke off another piece of the candy and popped it in his mouth as he retrieved his secret folder again. Sure enough, this name was on the list as well.

“Clever girl.” He inhaled deeply and took a seat again to finish reviewing the records Evelyn had left for him.

**

"Oh, there you are. It took you long enough," Lily groused with a frown when Evelyn exited the lifts, hurrying across the Trust's lobby. "We'll have missed the five-fifteen train. Probably the next one too."

"I know. I'm sorry." Falling in alongside her best friend, Evelyn gave an exhausted sigh, rubbing the ache at her temples with one hand. "Mr. James has so many accounts— I had no idea. He's positively swamped. And I'm still moving records from the nineth to the thirty-eighth floor."

Churning along the sidewalk with the rest of the homebound crowd, Lily looped her arm with Evelyn's urging her to keep up so they'd catch the next train home. "I realize your responsibilities have changed since you became an executive assistant, but I hardly think that includes moving all those account records. Why don't you schedule someone from the building staff to do all that?"

"I have help, but the packing and unpacking to file everything is my responsibility. Mr. James is rather particular about the record organization. He wants things in a specific order—."

With a resentful huff, Lily shook her head. "That's all well and good, but I'm rather particular about leaving work on time so we get home at a reasonable hour. He's kept you later by increasing minutes every night since he put you in that position. If he wants to take up residence on the Trust's thirty-eighth floor, bully for him. I know you don't, so the least he can do it release you on time like the rest of the secretarial staff. It's not as if he's paying you for the extra work."

Heaving a sigh, Evelyn tucked herself behind Lily to descend the dreary hard steps to the subway. "I'm sorry. I know it's frustrating to you, Lily. I expect to be done with all the moving by the end of the week, but there's no reason for you to wait for me every night if I'm not." 

Dropping her dime into the turnstile ahead of Evelyn, Lily cast a sour glance over her shoulder. "So now you'll relegate your best friend to the background the same way you have your own life. For a financer."

"For heaven's sake, Lily. Do I look like I'm enjoying myself?" Evelyn clutched at Lily's arm, turning her best friend to face her. "What would you have me do? Mr. James is who I work for now. My alternative was unemployment and I beg your pardon if I'd prefer to avoid being forced to life on the streets."

"I know." Lily slumped, as deflated as Evelyn felt. "It's not your fault. I'm just as tired as I know you must be, and I'm coming to resent those things about him you saw right off the bat. There's nothing to like about working for a workaholic. By the time we're home from the grocery and get something made for dinner, we'll have missed all the best radio shows and be too tired to bother eating."

With her arm looped through Lily's, Evelyn moved them towards the platform, then dragged harder. "Look, Lily. You got us here in time to catch the next train." Rushing, the two narrowly squeezed through the closing doors. 

Sharing a handloop as they normally did, Evelyn braced herself as the train lurched forward. "There's no reason for you to wait for me every night. From now on, just go home if I'm not in the lobby by five-ten. Once I get this move taken care of, things should settle into a more consistent rhythm."

"You can't be that naive. You said it yourself already. Mr. James is managing a tremendous number of accounts. Now he's taken on even more. No wonder he's done without a secretary for the last year— who wants to work like that? He doesn't need one secretary— he needs five. Perhaps you should look for something else."

Astounded, Evelyn's mouth fell open. "Where on earth do you think I'd find another job in this economy?"

"Well, I can't say I know, but it has to be worth something that you can claim the distinguished title of 'executive assistant'. Especially for someone like Andrew James— there can't be a single person in the city who doesn't know how horrible he is to work for."

"Lily," Evelyn chastised. "Mr. James does expect a great deal, I can't deny that— but he does have some virtues."

"Name three," Lily huffed. 

"Well, he did keep me from falling out of a nineth story window."

Evelyn could see the begrudging acknowledgement even by the dim light of the subway. "And he did come all the way to our apartment to undo Mrs. Stiles termination."

"He's chauffered around in a Rolls Royce, Evie. It's not as if he suffered, slumming on the train," Lily drawled with a cheeky grin. Behind her, an avid eavesdropper turned to glance their direction. "Mind your business."

As the subway train screeched to a halt at their stop, the two young women eased their way through lingering passengers to the platform, trudged up the stairs to street level, then hurried across stopped traffic at the tailend of the pedestrian crossing to get to the grocery.

"I'm still waiting to hear your third excuse for him," Lily prompted as they made their way the half block to Mercer's Grocery.

Rolling her eyes skyward, Evelyn considered. "He does have a pleasant smile," she suggested dreamily, remembering the sensuous shape of his bottom lip, the way his grin lifted his upper lip to frame his straight white teeth. "Even if he is stingy about bestowing it," she qualified quickly. 

"Evelyn Moore! Did you just admit you have a crush!?"

"No, of course not. I only said when he deigns to smile, it's a nice one." Angling into the grocery, she scooped up a basket and hooked it over her arm. "How many times have you told me he didn't hurt to look at?"

"Yes, well, speaking of nice smiles," Lily drawled, elbowing Evie in the ribs. 

"Ow! What?" Glancing up at Lily as she placed a handful of carrots into her basket, Evelyn frowned. "Why do you keep doing that?" Her eyes followed her best friend's rolling the direction of the grocery corner before quickly resuming her selection. "Oh. Oh dear. Is he coming this way?"

"Yes. He. Is," Lily practically crowed.

"Oh for heaven's sake. Why must you antagonize me?"

"Hello Miss Henderson. Miss Moore. Is there something I can help you find?" 

Though he'd addressed them both, when Evelyn glanced up briefly with a weak smile, it was to find Henry Mercer, the grocery owner's eldest son with his eyes fixed on her like a lovesick puppy. "Hello Mr. Mercer. Thank you, but I believe we're fin—."

With a loud laugh, Lily patted Evelyn on the shoulder, shoving slightly, urging her on with her shopping. "Now Henry. How many times must I tell you? If we're to call you 'Henry', you must address us by our first names as well. Don't tell me you've forgotten them— our families have been shopping here for years." 

"Oh, no Miss Lily. I've never forgotten them. Not since the very first time I heard them."

Though he was addressing Lily's questions, Evelyn could feel Henry's gaze following her along the angled produce displays and groaned inwardly.

For the life of her, Evelyn couldn't fathom why Lily insisted on entertaining his schoolboy fancies. It was one thing to allow him to tag along everywhere they went as children, but another entirely irresponsible one to encourage his attention as an adult. Particularly when the object of his affections wasn't her best friend. 

"I see you've selected a couple lemons, Miss Evelyn." Henry moved along the opposite aisle as her, looking over the angled racks as she made her selections. Glancing up, she gave him only a brief smile as acknowledgement. 

It wasn't that he wasn't attractive. Henry Mercer was undoubtedly a good-looking young man, with his fair hair and greenish eyes set in a handsome face of fine features. He'd frequently been the attention of schoolgirls when they'd attended grade and high school together. Working at the grocery, lifting and carrying heavy crates of foods and household items, he'd grown into a strapping man too, with muscly arms and broad shoulders tapering nicely to a lean narrow waist and posterior, and that only added to his feminine appeal.

For other women, just not her. It was incomprehensible he insisted on his lovesick pursuit when so many other willing participants for his affections presented regularly. 

"I've a handful of damaged ones in the back I was going to throw away. If you're using them soon, they'd make a fine lemonade. I'd be happy to sell them to you at discount. I hate to throw away food."

"That's kind of you, but I have all I nee—."

"Most generous of you, Henry. Of course she'll take them. Evie cooks with lemons all the time— pies, breads, even flavors dinner with them," Lily chimed in, adding, "Why, you two are just alike. She hates wasting food too."

Having made the last of her selections, Evelyn turned sharply, fixing Lily with a pointed stare. "Lily, stop monopolizing Mr. Mercer's time—."

"— It's Henry, Miss Evelyn."

"— he's busy," Evelyn insisted, completely ignoring Henry's interjection. "We have all that we need." She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, "And all we can afford."

Steering Lily towards the front, Evelyn set her basket on the counter, only to have Henry excuse the young clerk behind the register to ring up their sale himself. 

"I brought the lemons." He flashed Evelyn a warm smile, and, pinned as she was, she studied him, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. 

Tucking everything into a paper sack for them as Lily counted out the change, Henry continued to smile at Evelyn. 

With a quiet sigh, she rubbed her aching temple, glancing outside at the fading evening light.

"Henry!" Lily gasped, looking over the receipt. "You only charged us ten percent for those lemons! It must be a mistake."

"They were going in the trash, Miss Lily—."

"Nonsense. There was nothing wrong with them. What time do you close shop, Henry?"

Confused, he replied, "Eight o'clock, like always."

"Perfect. You know the brownstone apartment building at Tenth and Waverly?"

"The one where you live?"

"That's the one. Meet us at the fire escape just after eight on Friday. Evelyn will fix you a fine glass of lemonade for your kindness."

As Henry's face lit with pleasure, Evelyn held her breath to stifle her annoyed groan, shuffling the bag off the counter without even her usual polite farewells. Gliding into the diminishing sidewalk traffic, she hurried home with furious steps. 

"Oh, now you can rush," Lily joked, catching up. "I'm glad you're excited."

Halting abruptly, Evelyn faced her best friend. "Excited? No. I'm exhausted. And for the sake of meddling— which you had the audacity to do directly in front of me— you've just added to my weekly evening workload, subtracing from the time I have to spend with you! You just admonished me not to give my extra minutes to Mr. James. Why should I give them to Henry Mercer instead?"

"Evelyn, are you mad? He adores you."

Huffing, Evelyn continued towards their apartment building. "I don't care that he adores me. What future can there possibly be for that kind of frivolous nonsense?"

"Nonsense? You're not blind, and you're not dead even if you talk like you are. What's not to like about Henry?" Lily asked rhetorically. "He's a fine-looking man. Gainfully employed and eventually he'll own the store. And he likes you, Evie. Why won't you give him a chance?"

"Because he doesn't like me. He doesn't even know me." Spotting a gap in traffic, Evelyn crossed the street in a slow jog, rushing the last bit faster to avoid a speeding car.

Tagging along at her heels, Lily demanded, "What are you talking about? He's known you for years— we went to school together, lived our whole lives in the same neighborhood together."

"It's not the same, Lily. What's my favorite color?"

"What? Blue. Why?"

"What's my favorite food?"

"Watermelon and vanilla ice cream."

"Exactly! Not lemons! How many times have I read A Farewell to Arms?" 

With a huff, Lily rolled her summer sky blue eyes. "At least a million. What's your point, Evie?"

"You. Know. Me. He's had all the same opportunities you've had and do you know what he's knows about me? That. I'm. Pretty." Yanking open their apartment building door, Evelyn gestured Lily in with a frown and a jerk of her head. "I don't think the man's been in a library in years. Or visited a museum. Ever. The only thing I've ever seen him do with any sort of enthusiasm is play baseball— ."

"He follows you around with quite a bit of enthusiasm," Lily interjected as they rounded the stairwell on the second floor.

"Are you trying to provoke me?"

Laughing, Lily hugged her around the shoulders. "Yes! How's he supposed to get to know you if you won't give him a chance? It's a glass of lemonade. I'll even fix it if you'll tell me how. You can drink it on the roof together— I'll even set that up."

Inserting her key in the lock on her apartment, Evelyn glowered at Lily. "Then leave it be after this. Agreed?"

"I suppose."