Читать книгу Lyza's Story: Book One of The Lane Trilogy - Vicki Inc. Andree - Страница 7

Chuck O’Malley dreamed of retiring early. It had become an obsession. My entire life revolves around this job. There’s got to be more to life. I’m sick of the meaningless everyday grind. I need a change. God, let me find something to be passionate about. I’m not a religious man, but I know you could help me if you wanted to. Everyone in the office had left, but Chuck worked late again. Exasperated, he threw his pen at the wall and shouted into the empty office, “I want a life!”

The past two years, he had thought up scheme after scheme to get out of IBM and into the world. If I had the money, I would be gone in less than an instant. They were dreams. He never acted on any of them.

His father had teased him when he was in high school. “You and your buddies don’t do anything but hang out at the computer lab. Don’t you know your classmates call you guys nerds? How are you going to meet girls? You should go out for football or track or something physical.”

Chuck didn’t care about names. “Guess what, Dad? I like being a nerd. Those other kids waste time hanging out at the mall. Bits and bytes are far more interesting than giggly girls and airheaded cheerleaders.”

His father scoffed. “Oh, yeah, bits and bytes. What on Earth does that mean?”

Chuck tried to explain. “Computers speak bits and bytes. To get them to do something new and different, I have to speak bits and bytes, too. Think of it this way, Dad. You don’t have to be an electrician to enjoy toast from a toaster, but you have to know electronics to design a better toaster. Computers are going to do more and more over time. Do you remember when an office full of noisy typewriters meant they were doing a lot of business? I’ve seen it in old movies.”

His father put down the newspaper he’d been reading. “I remember the IBM Selectric. I loved it because when you hit backspace, it would lift the error right off the page.”

Chuck went on to prove his point. “Now no one hears typing in an office. If you did, you would know they were obsolete, and you wouldn’t want to do business with them. My teacher told me about that IBM Selectric. What used to be done mechanically is now done digitally. We all laughed when my teacher said that the IBM Selectric, like the pony express, enjoyed a short history.”

Chuck’s father shrugged. “Okay, you may know the future like all teenagers, but life is more than bits and bytes.”

When he got out of graduate school with a 4.0 average, Chuck landed a good job at IBM and ended up in Poughkeepsie, New York.

His proud dad often bragged. “My son works for IBM. He’s really smart and I taught him everything he knows.”

One day, a buck slip with a memo attached arrived at Chuck’s desk with an interesting message:

IBM is opening a branch in Australia and is looking for fast track career-oriented men and women to jump-start IBM Australia. We need customer engineers, salesmen, managers, and system programmers. Contact Human Resources for more information.

IBM needed people to train new programmers for the Australian offices. The pay was much more than he currently made, so Chuck filled out the necessary paperwork.

Within the week, his manager called him to his office. “Chuck, you requested a transfer last week and I received the notice this morning. Pack your bags. You’re going to Australia.”

Chuck was speechless. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

His manager gave him a brilliant smile. “You don’t need to say anything. This is a great opportunity for you, and I know you’ll do an excellent job.”

Still stunned, Chuck managed to choke out a few words. “I didn’t think it would go through.”

His boss stuck out his hand. “Well, your application has been accepted, and you’ve got two weeks to check in with your new supervisor. Congratulations. We’re going to miss you.”

Chuck regained his composure, straightened, and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir. I’ve enjoyed working for you.”

He sold everything he couldn’t take on the plane and left for Sydney, Australia exactly ten days from that meeting.

Flying into Sydney, Chuck found himself strongly attracted by the aerial view of the famous opera house. He found an apartment near the office and immersed himself in his work. In a few short years, he had trained enough eager programmers to ensure proper service for IBM accounts in Sydney and transferred to Brisbane.

“O’Malley?” coworkers would say. “You can depend on him. He’s a dedicated and loyal IBMer. In fact, he borders on genius and uses his creativity to better the company. You can tell he loves it here.”

Chuck loved his work, but little did they know that he longed to break out of the corporate world. He dreamed and schemed between projects. If I could find a way out of here, I would leave in a New York minute. It boils down to money. I can’t leave and still enjoy this income. He reconciled himself to the fact that he probably would stay right where he was and never get out of IBM.

He decided to take night classes at the local university for a diversion. Desiring something foreign to programming and computers, he chose geology. He thought studying rocks would get him out into the countryside and force him to see more of Australia than the cities and tourist traps. He was right. He found himself out in the Australian bush… and he loved it. Then he met George.

***

The Malibu Club events coordinator followed Lana Lane around the newest facility on Malibu Beach.

“Mrs. Lane, you have exquisite taste. This is the most exclusive venue in the area.”

Lana Lane’s nose went up. “Even so, it will be necessary to make a few small changes in the décor for the Save the Orchids benefit. The drapes need to be changed out from these royal blue linens to forest-green silks with imprints of palm trees and hanging vines. See my assistant for details.”

The events coordinator made a note on her clipboard. “Yes, Mrs. Lane, we’ll get right on it.” Then she tried to make a point. “The blue linen was just installed.”

Lana ignored the remark. “The royal blue carpet will never do and must be replaced with the hunter green speckled with tiny orchids that I chose last week. Now take me to the kitchen. I want to speak to the staff.”

“Please, follow me through this door.” They walked into a sparkling commercial stainless kitchen. The coordinator raised her voice so the workers in the room could hear. “Please gather around. This is Mrs. Lawrence Lane from Lane Unlimited. She would like to have a word with you about the upcoming Save the Orchids benefit.”

Lana looked into the confused faces of the kitchen staff as they gathered around her little group. She fairly bristled as she spoke. “I chose this facility as the venue for the annual Save the Orchids banquet. I intend to make the evening a spectacular event, even by Hollywood standards. I know each one of you wants to make it a success, too.”

The coordinator spoke up. “You know we have a reputation above all other venues.”

Lana stepped in front of her and continued speaking to the kitchen staff. “I want everyone to know my desires for this benefit. These are my assistants. If you have any questions after my directions, please speak to them. First, every dish on the buffet tables must be decorated with an orchid, and there must be many varieties visible throughout the rooms.”

Everyone nodded in agreement while the events coordinator furiously scribbled notes, trying to keep up with Lana’s instructions.

Lana continued. “The main buffet table centerpiece consists of a giant ice sculpture of the rarest orchid to date, the centennial orchid. Scholars believe this orchid last bloomed in 1910. I’m excited at the prospect of seeing this beautiful plant portrayed in ice. The width of the bloom exceeds three feet; it is the brightest pink ever seen in a flowering plant. The ice sculpture will be done by the winner of the ice sculpture competition held in Aspen, Colorado, last year; I want all of you to be extremely cautious as you work around it.”

“Yes, yes.” The event coordinator nodded. “Every precaution will be taken to protect the ice sculptures and other plants your people bring.”

Lana looked down at the coordinator. “Work with both of my assistants.” She motioned to the women standing behind her. “I’m confident the Malibu Club staff can pull together and make this the best event of the year.”

Both assistants stood behind Lana, nodding and smiling. So much planning and detail went into this charity event that Lana needed two assistants. Each assistant had an assistant of their own. The immense pressure on the primary assistants showed in their eyes. Lana never said it, but all of them knew if anything went wrong on the night of the benefit, it very well could mean death to their careers.

Lana turned to her assistants. “Make sure the staff and servers all understand the level of perfection I expect.”

Lana ignored one of the kitchen staff whispering to her colleague with a thick Hispanic accent, “Lana Lane has no problem blackballing an employee who doesn’t perform as expected. I feel sorry for her assistants. What she expects takes superhero power.”

“I know,” the coworker answered. “The good side to working for Lana Lane is that the project promises a big, creative, and exciting experience with no limit to expense. L. L. Lane Unlimited pays exorbitant salaries, and with success comes the praises of the Lane family; then you’re set for life.”

Lana left the kitchen and walked back into the oversized foyer to sit in a red overstuffed chair. “Over here.” She motioned to her assistants. “Let me give you a picture of my expectations.”

The coordinator and assistants joined Lana in the small conversation grouping near the fireplace. Each of them pulled out their notepads.

“The evening begins with the arrival of celebrities, stepping on a wide red carpet from their limousines. After entering, checking coats, bags, and whatever, the guests drift into the foyer bar. Champagne, wine, mixed drinks, and hors d’oeuvres, served by waiters in specially designed jungle print tuxedos, will give guests time to mingle before dinner.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Lane,” one of the assistants interrupted. “I wonder about the jungle print tuxes. Have those been ordered?”

Lana snapped tersely, “Well, that’s what you’re supposed to know. There had better be jungle print tuxes. Understand?”

“Yes, Mrs. Lane.”

Lana’s voice changed to one of instruction. “Allow me to continue. At precisely nine o’clock, those huge carved wooden doors to the dining room should slowly open, revealing a spectacular array of buffet tables laden with hor d’oeuvres and a dinner buffet with a chef ready to handle any special requests because of food allergies. I’m allergic to white pepper, so I’m very aware of the needs of others in that area, and I want you to be especially accommodating to those who need extra attention. ”

Lana turned to the coordinator. “Each round table must have a vase of orchids in the center, then I want them sprinkled over the tables, leaving space for guest’s plates and drinks.”

Then Lana put her finger to her lips. “Now to share my secret only among us, in utmost confidence. If this leaks to the press, every one of you will be fired, and I’m not exaggerating. My secret concerns the entertainment for the night. The performing artist commands respect around the world. Every guest attending should find their expectations more than fulfilled. My favorite artist consented to make this benefit a priority.”

The coordinator brightened at getting insider information. “Oh, Mrs. Lane, that’s very exciting.”

“Well, other entertainers also agreed to perform. Therefore every moment offers interesting entertainment, with no boring breaks. This event is my baby. I gave birth to this benefit, and it better come off with no hitches!” Lana’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The coordinator nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Lane. Everything done to your specifications can only result in success.”

Lana spoke to her assistants. “I expect daily reports until the last week. Then hourly.” She stood, turned around, and walked through glass doors to the parking lot.

Once in her car, with the air conditioning turned on, Lana Lane called her husband. In a mock-secretive voice, she whispered, “Lawrence, the chicken’s in the pot.”

She started laughing, and Lawrence chuckled, “I love your sense of humor. I guess that means this benefit is beginning to cook.”

Lana leaned back in the seat. “Oh, indeed. It’s getting positively steamy. I want to thank you for your support.”

Lawrence reminded her of a promise made years before. “A long time ago, you told me all I had to do was pay for it and attend. Your gift to me means I simply enjoy. I look forward to both escorting you to the ball and paying for it.”

“Yes, dear, and I know you love it. Maybe not as much as I do, but you enjoy all the fun of these nights whether you admit it or not.”

“I’m glad the chicken’s in the pot, dear. I look forward to spending an evening with a thousand or so of our closest friends.”

“You should, because this campaign has blossomed for me like the lovely flowers the charity represents. Of course, we must remember orchids attempt to resemble the creatures they need to pollinate them. Right, my sweet?”

“Are you speaking of the blossom that so resembles a butterfly that butterflies actually land on it in an attempt to mate?”

Lana gleefully answered, “Darling, you are so right. Before they discover the trick, the butterflies have already pollinated the plant. When you think about it, it could be a little like this benefit. A little flower here and there may charm the money right out of their bank accounts.”

***

Paris did not disappoint. The women awoke to pleasant temperatures mixed with sunshine.

Leesa sang the lyrics to “I Love Paris,” slightly off-key, as they rode the elevator down to the hotel coffee shop. They ordered espresso and French pastries. After breakfast, they ventured onto the streets of Paris.

Leesa spread her arms wide to embrace the day. “Just breathe in deep that fashion air.”

Leesa and Lyza strolled down the streets of the fashion district. They ogled the latest fashions by designers Versace, Yves Saint Laurent, and Hermes.

Leesa stopped to look up and down the street. “I love this place.”

Lyza looked at the dress in the window and her task-oriented personality kicked in. “Leesa, you are such a funny one. Anyone can tell I’m older, even if it is just by eight minutes. Let’s get down to shopping business. Did you see that Versace creation? Too much! I’m getting it.”

Leesa grabbed Lyza’s arm. “No, no, no, not yet. It’s much too early to buy. Slow down. Stop and smell the roses, as they say. We have all day.”

“We may have all day. But time goes fast in Paris. Let’s move on to Chanel and Dior shopping over on Avenue Montaigne and Avenue des Champs-Elysees. There’s a Zara’s there, too.”

Leesa stopped and looked across the street. “It’s not a race. Can’t we stop at Ladurée for one of their legendary macaroons? Designer shopping can wear you out.”

Lyza wrinkled her nose. “We just ate breakfast.”

“I don’t care. We’re in Paris. Besides, it can be lunch. Humor me.”

After devouring designer coffee with exquisite macaroons for an early lunch, they leisurely wandered through familiar streets taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Paris. Both Lyza and Leesa lost track of time, and as predicted, the women were still in the thick of shopping, picking, and choosing when shadows grew long and evening fell. Still they ventured on.

The Louis Vuitton shop manager invited the young women to sit down. “Please sit here. Let me get wine or coffee or whatever you would like to enjoy while watching our fashion show.”

The twins sank into the white leather sofas, slipped off their shoes, and curled up for their private show. Three models showed off several new fashions.

Leesa pointed at the long black gown. “I like that one. The way the fabric moves looks so elegant.”

“I liked the miniskirt with the blazer; red polka dots remind me of Red Hots. Remember that candy we used to chew on in school?”

On the way back to the hotel, the driver passed a dock. “Look, Lyza—there’s our yacht. Remember when we were little and all of us spent time cruising the Seine?”

“Those were fun days. I remember how you had to take that stupid teddy bear everywhere you went. You were such a baby. I can’t remember what you used to call him.”

Leesa got a faraway look in her eyes. “Oh, how I loved that teddy bear. Mr. Ted went everywhere with me. He made me feel safe at night. I still remember how good it felt to hug him as I fell asleep—until he mysteriously disappeared. After he was gone, it took me weeks to get to sleep. Cook sat with me for hours before I would fall into a fitful sleep.”

Lyza burst out laughing. “Can I help it if he decided to take a swim?”

Leesa felt her face get hot. “Is that what happened? You wouldn’t… Did you…?

Lyza couldn’t control her laughter. “You should have seen Cook. She almost fell in trying to save him.”

“Really?” Leesa’s back clenched. “You and Cook shared this little secret for a long time. I can’t believe you did that. And you never told me before tonight.” Innocence and shock turned to accusation. “You always were such a little sneak.” Some things never change. You’re still a little sneak, Lyza Lane. It’s a good thing I’m not vindictive. I loved Mr. Ted, and you drowned him.

They watched the Eiffel Tower in the distance, lights illuminating its sleek, tall form against the black night.

Their limo passed a young couple on the sidewalk holding hands. Further down the street, a young man held his lover close in a long, passionate kiss. Paris was romantic, but romance was one area of their lives that lay completely barren.

Leesa nudged Lyza. “That guy could use a hair cut.”

Lyza shook her head and snickered. “Love is blind.”