“She’s good.” I had yet to learn so much about my new employer, including her surname. “My name’s Ava,” I added.
He bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Charlie’s my name. Pleased to meet you.”
Just as I was about to ask more about my enigmatic boss, the elevator stopped. He pulled open the door, and I stepped out. Adhering to protocol, I placed my hand in my bag and brought out my purse.
He held up his hand and shook his head. “No, dear. You keep it. I only accept tips from the rich.” He saluted me. “I’ll be seeing you.”
As I watched the doors snap shut, I asked myself “Did that just happen?” I stood transfixed for a moment. There were no bright lights, noisy phones, or screechy mega-screens. It was as though I’d climbed a summit somewhere away from humanity.
Finding the door slightly ajar, I knocked and walked sheepishly in. I entered the pretty living room, and as with each time I visited that beguiling space, I landed on something new to feast my eyes upon. This time I noticed white picture rails that accentuated the pink walls, from which hung vibrant and original Impressionist paintings. The wall-to-wall shelves housed a collection of figurines, colored glass vases, and countless fascinating pieces of bric-a-brac.
Looking about for my employer, I spotted Aggie seated on the terrace again, which I’d learned was her favorite spot. She had this uncanny, almost encyclopedic knowledge of the lives of those who passed by regularly. Although they bordered on defamatory at times, I found Aggie’s witty comments hilarious.
To avoid startling her, I coughed. Aggie turned, and seeing me, she gestured for me to join her.
“Um… I found the door open,” I said, stepping onto the terrace. “I hope you don’t mind. I knocked.”
She studied me for a moment. “I left it open for you. Just in case I dozed off. The sun’s too nice to miss.”
“Can I get you something?” I asked.
“The usual. It will be my first. I’ve decided to cut back.” A flicker of a smile came and went.
“Oh… That’s good, Aggie.”
“Yes, instead of seven or eight, I’ll go down to five, I think. I’m starting to find the climb difficult.”
I nodded slowly, amazed. Given that one martini had me giggling at strangers whenever I left my daily session, five would have placed me in a coma.
“I can take you upstairs before I leave every day if you wish,” I said.
She shook her head vehemently. “Unnecessary.”
When I returned, I placed the martini by Aggie’s side and asked, “Would you like me to read?”
She shook her head.
Clasping the stem of the glass, Aggie took a sip. “Mm… lovely. You’re a natural.”
“Thanks,” I replied with a genuine smile. Aggie might as well have complimented me for brewing up a cure for cancer because it brightened my spirit learning that I had mastered the art of martinis. Not that it would gain me kudos for future employment.
Aggie pointed to a white peacock chair that resembled a throne by her side. “Sit.”
Sinking down onto the floral cushion, I allowed my body to indulge in comfort. I cast my face up to the blue sky as my pores absorbed pleasant warmth from the sun.
“You’re not yourself today,” said Aggie, reaching over for her cigarettes.
“I’m just a bit tired.”
“I appreciate you coming here on a Saturday. Will that work? Seven days. I’ll pay double time. I like the company. And I need someone to mix my martinis.” A cheeky smirk played on her lips.
“Of course. It’s only four hours a day, and you’re very generous. I’m grateful to have this job.”
“Good. Then tell me why you look like you’ve been fighting with your boyfriend.”
I shifted my position. “I didn’t have a fight as such.”
Her blue eyes narrowed as she studied me. I’d suddenly developed this irrational belief that Aggie could read my thoughts. Visualizing her white hair loose, I even started to wonder if she was a witch.
“You’ve fallen in love.”
My brow crumpled with disbelief. “What? No… I haven’t.”
She moved her attention to the street. Aggie’s mercurial nature, although jarring at times, was welcome, given that I wasn’t in the mood to analyze my love life.
Pointing, she said, “There’s Billie. My, he’s walking well.”
Looking down onto the pavement, I had no idea who she meant, considering the many that marched forward, oblivious to our gawking.
“He’s the one with the pale-blue slacks. Ha… he always dresses as if he’s on a Contiki tour.” She chuckled.