Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 02

Cathy opened the front door and Theresa walked in. Without a glance at the young uniformed woman Theresa doffed her coat and handed it to her. She chided, "Please do be careful; its leather you know."

Cathy knew who Theresa was. She'd seen her once at the hospice, and a few times at the house. Steve had never introduced them since it seemed Cathy was always busy somewhere doing something when Theresa appeared. She didn't especially like Theresa. She considered her high handed and unnecessarily condescending. She took the heavy leather coat, and placed it on a hanger. She smiled sweetly at the woman, "Yes ma'am."

Theresa ignored the smarmy smile and comment. She brushed past Cathy as though she didn't exist. She saw Steve and gushed, "Oh Steve I'm so glad to see you." She rushed into the room, and gave Steve an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Cathy stealthily watched the niceties from the foyer. She thought the other woman's hand rested a little too comfortably on Steve's inner thigh. She wondered if there had ever been anything between the two of them. The thought made her like the woman even less.

The bell rang a second time. Cathy turned and opened the door. Two couples, the Martin's and the Peregoy's, brushed by her. As they passed each indifferently dropped their coat on a nearby chair. One of the women, she guessed it was Mrs. Austin looked in her direction. Denying Cathy any eye contact she said, "Hang these up, and be careful."

Cathy thought to herself, what am I going to do? Step on them? That's what she thought, but she kept her mouth shut and her face blank. She obsequiously replied, "Yes, ma'am."

As the four well dressed people, none of them much older than her, sailed into the living room without so much as a backward glance Cathy imagined this must be what it's like to be considered and treated as an inferior. Whatever it was she knew she didn't like it.

Steve watched Cathy muddle around with the big heavy coats. He called into the foyer, "Cathy bring in your little pad and pencil, find out what everyone will be having to drink, and try to keep their orders straight."

Cathy sighed, took out her tiny spiral pad and scurried into the living room. She'd get their drink orders and take them to the waiting bartender Steve had hired for the evening.

While Cathy silently circled the outer edge of the small group she overheard them talking about football, politics, the war in Afghanistan, and Iran. Most of what they said was pretty mundane. With the drink orders in hand she went to the bartender and waited.

As she stood there Mrs. Peregoy summoned her with the crook of an index finger. Cathy put down her little pad and scampered back to the seated group.

Mrs. Peregoy, her first name was Glynnis, with her right hand held upward palm down said, "You're Cathy aren't you?"

Cathy answered, "Yes, ma'am."

Glynnis let her lifted her palm casually point in the direction of the kitchen, "Well Cathy, do be a good girl. Go in the kitchen and bring us out some snacks." She glanced over at Theresa Stockton and added, "I'm just so famished, haven't had anything to eat since noon." She looked back at the still stationary Cathy, "Well dear, do go on." She took her hand and moved it as if to shush the girl on.

As Cathy walked toward the kitchen she overheard Mrs. Peregoy comment to Steve, "A little slow isn't she."

She cringed when she heard Steve reply, "She's a good girl. She tries hard."

Back in the kitchen the two Spanish ladies were busily preparing dinner. Cathy walked in and asked, "Do we have any snacks?"

The Spanish ladies both spoke fluent English, and Cathy sort of knew that, but this time they looked back and forth at each other like they couldn't understand her.

Cathy thought they spoke English, but didn't want to get into a pissing contest with the two women she probably would need to rely on all evening so she did what everyone typically does when they think they're communicating with someone who doesn't understand the language. She spoke slower and louder, "Do we have any snacks for the guests?"

One of the Spanish ladies turned around in what was apparently anger or disgust, "We heard you the first time. What, you think we're stupid?"

Cathy was completely off her oats. She couldn't have felt worse. She was doing to these nice people what Mrs. Peregoy had just done to her in the living room, "No. I'm mean no I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

She never got a chance to finish. One of the ladies pushed a tray filled with crackers and cheeses in front of her; "here." She turned away.

Cathy took the tray, as she turned to go back in the living room she made a last appeal, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

The woman had already turned away. Cathy felt like someone who'd just drowned a basketful of kittens. She sped back to the living room.

What Cathy didn't hear as she left the kitchen was the two women speaking in Spanish. In a loose translation of their brief conversation one asserted how badly she felt having to be so rough on the girl, and the other agreed citing the considerate way Cathy had treated them the whole time she'd been there. The first agreed and suggested they say something to Steve when it was all over. The second nodded.

Cathy got back in the living room just in time to see Steve point at her and then at the bartender. Oh my she thought, the drinks. She tiptoed over to the waiting and obviously unhappy bartender.

When she got there the bartender looked at her and said, "Where have you been. Their drinks are going to be all watery."

Cathy looked at the drink tray and saw the drinks arrayed in a neat circle. She forced a smile at the bartender, "Don't worry I'll get them right over." She picked up her tray and looked around for her spiral pad. She looked at the bartender, "Where's my pad?"

He looked incredulous, "What pad?"

She turned white. Eyes wide with fear she replied, "My pad with my notes on who gets what drink."

He looked at her with contempt, "I don't know where you put your pad. Don't you remember?"

She didn't, and what was worse when she looked at the drinks she couldn't tell one from the other. They'd all ordered something with color. She didn't have a clue. She looked over at the partiers. They were all looking at her. She looked at the bartender, "I don't know."

He didn't smile, "Don't know what?"

For all she was worth, though Cathy had been around drinkers and at parties for years she seldom drank anything herself, and never paid any attention to what other people had. Waitresses and waiters always brought those things. She'd never had to do it, not once. She was desperate, "I don't know which drink is which."

The bartender gave her a quick review, "This is a Jack and coke, this is Jim Beam and coke, that's an Old Fashioned, this here is a Margarita, that's a Manhattan, and that's a Long Island Iced Tea.

She looked them over, "OK Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Manhattan, Old Fashioned, an Iced Tea, and a Margarita."

He corrected her, "Long Island Iced Tea."

She nodded, "OK, Long Island." She picked up the tray and dashed over to the circle of partiers. She looked around. No one was smiling, She asked, "OK, who gets the Margarita."

Theresa Stockton raised her hand.

She passed her the Margarita.

Now who gets the Jack Daniels?" Barry Austin held his hand up. She handed him his.

Now who gets...?"

Mr.Austin tasted the drink and interrupted her, "This is Jim Beam."

Cathy looked at him. Now she was confused, "Oh." She took back the Jim beam, "Who gets the Jim Beam?"

Steve held up his hand, "I get the Jim Beam.

Cathy handed him the recently tasted Jim Beam.

Steve stopped her, "Cathy do you know what you're doing?"

She was scared. She wanted to cry, "I'm giving every one their drinks."

He looked at her with compassion; it was the first nonthreatening look she'd gotten in forty minutes, "You gave me a drink somebody else already drank from."

She was crushed. What should she do? She put the tray down on the coffee table that sat in the middle of the circle of people. I'll be right back." She looked at Steve, "You get a Jim Beam, and Mr. Peregoy gets a Jack Daniels."

Steve corrected her, "No Mr. Austin gets the Jack Daniels. I get a Jim Beam. Mrs. Austin gets the Manhattan."

Cathy wanted to cry, "Oh, I'll be right back." She started for the bartender again.

Steve stood up and caught her by the arm. He gently swung her back around. He watched as she took her index finger and pushed her glasses further up her nose. When she looked back up at him he saw she had that bright eyed near tears look again. He spoke more softly, "I'll get the drinks. You go in the kitchen and get some more snacks."

She stood motionless for several seconds. She put the fingers of her left hand to her lips. She nodded and started to run for the kitchen.

Steve called after her, "Slow..."she slipped over the rug"...down."

When she fell forward the light frothy material of her skirt flipped up around her waist exposing her snow white panties replete with the small white bow in the back. She jumped back up. The woolen fabric of the rug had scraped some of the skin off her knees leaving red burn marks. It hurt. She ran for the kitchen.

As she ran she heard Mrs. Peregoy, "Well I never..."

Mrs. Austin chimed in, "I wonder where Steve found her?"

Mr. Austin came to her defense in that way only a self gratifying over sexed man could, "Oh come on. She looked kind of sweet. Allen did you see that cute bow?"

Carol Austin shut him up, "I thought it looked tacky."

By then Steve had made it back with a new set of drinks. He passed them around and excused himself, "I'm going to check on dinner."

Steve went back to the kitchen where he found Cathy squatting on a stool in the corner. He walked over and leaned down. He put his hand on her head, "You OK?"

She'd obviously just started to cry. She hiccoughed, sniffed, and wiped her nose, "I'm fine." She wasn't fine. She felt horrible, her knees hurt, and now on top of everything Steve was standing over her with his hand on the top of her head like she was some kind of puppy dog.

He shook her head back and forth, "It'll be all right. Wait here."

Steve stepped to the back pantry where numerous odds and ends were stored. He came back in the kitchen with two small bottles, "Iodine or Mercurochrome?"

Cathy sniffed, "Mercurochrome."

Steve opened the bottle and took the small swab and dabbed the medicine on each knee. He closed he bottle, and patted her head again, "Now get yourself together and let our Spanish ladies show you how to bring out the dinner."

She looked up and nodded. This was the stupidest she'd ever felt in her life. She was supposed to be the clever one, the one who was going to fleece the fool. Now she was the fool. She nodded again and put her hand in his, "I'm sorry. I'll do better."

He reached down, pinched her chin softly, and fiddled with the little locket, "I know." Then he left.

She wondered if he was sorry he'd given her the locket. She figured she wouldn't blame him if he asked for it back.

Steve got back in sat down with his friends, "Cathy's having a tough time right now."

Theresa smiled.

Barry looked at him, "That was sadistic sending her in for snacks then hiding her pad."

Steve looked around at his friends, "I'm beginning to wonder. She's supposed to be some kind of sophisticated clever bitch. She doesn't even know her drinks. She's in there crying right now; she thinks she's letting me down."

Glynnis Peregoy, so far the biggest bitch of the night, but in reality the sweetest of the women suggested, "Maybe we should go easier on her at dinner."

Steve agreed, "Yes, let's keep it light at dinner, and then afterward during after dinner drinks and dessert we'll tighten up a little."

Barry had a better idea, "Steve this girl is no femme fatale. Maybe we could trick her into answering a few questions."

Theresa Stockton nodded her agreement, "I agree. If this girl was able to clean out two other men then what kind of fools were they?"

Carol nodded her agreement too, "I don't think she's even that pretty."

Barry trumped his wife. He looked at Steve, "You see something don't you?"

Steve sort of looked away, like he was off somewhere else, "She has potential."

Cathy stepped from the kitchen door. Everyone could she'd been crying, her eyes were red, her make-up looked smeared, and her knees were orange, "Dinner is ready." She held out her arm and, palm up, pointed to the dining room.

Dinner went pretty smoothly. Cathy got the salads out; some wanted Caesar, some a regular tossed, one wanted spinach. She noticed she must have made a mistake because when her back was turned the men exchanged their plates.

The entree was a lot harder. She was a nervous wreck, especially knowing she'd screwed up the salads. She got the pork and the lamb confused, and the Cod and the Flounder mixed up, but nobody said anything. She rationalized, why hadn't Steve arranged that everyone have the same thing. If they all had spaghetti things would have gone great.

Mr. Austin deliberately dropped his napkin on the floor, and she had to bend down to pick it up.

She could tell he was trying to see something. For once she was glad she had on a tight collared dress and a skirt long enough to cover both her legs and rear end. She also felt affirmed about the exercises Steve made her do, and Steve's preference for a snugly fitting camisole rather than the padded uplift bra she might have worn had it been any other time. She also caught the disapproving look Steve gave Barry; that she thought was very reassuring.

Following dinner everyone retired back into the living room for after dinner drinks. Cathy figured she was probably in for another round of watery fluids and humiliating mistakes. To her surprise she found after dinner alcohols were commonly handled directly by the bartender. Later she found out the truth that the bartender was afraid of losing his gratuity, but that didn't come till later. All she was expected to do was carry around a few trays of snacks and a small after dinner dessert tray.

After Dinner:

It was while she passed around the desserts that her number came up again. She'd just finished her first round with the tray when Ms. Stockton stopped her. Theresa eyed Cathy up and down, "Come over here."

Cathy dutifully scuttled over to Ms. Stockton.

Theresa eyed the locket around her neck, "Kneel down a minute."

Cathy knelt in front of the woman.

Theresa took her left hand and fidgeted with the locket. She traced the outline of the etching on he locket with her fingernail She wondered if the woman wearing it knew what it meant, "Steve wasn't this Leah's?"

Steve gave Theresa a look like there was no tomorrow, "Yes."

"You gave it to her?"

"Yes."

Theresa leaned way forward and took the fingers of her right hand and placed them against Cathy's left cheek, "Come over closer."

Cathy looked up, confused, she about as close as she could get.

Theresa took a long nailed finger and pointed to the carpet directly at her feet, "Down here."

Cathy didn't want to, but she knew Steve wanted her to be cooperative. She got up and moved closer. She knelt directly on the carpet. It hurt her sore knees. If she'd gotten any closer she would have been on right on the woman's feet. She kept her eyes focused on the carpet, not daring to look up. She was afraid. Why she didn't know, but she knew she should be afraid of this person.

Theresa took her left hand and touched the locket again. She used her finger tips and almost lovingly smoothed over the white collar of Cathy's uniform. She let the tips of her fingers lightly touch beneath Cathy's chin. She commented, "It's pretty, very stylish, youthful."

Cathy wasn't sure of she was talking about the necklace or her.

The woman slid her fingers up and down Cathy's right arm, using them to touch the thin white edges of the sleeve of her blouse. Then she took both hands and rested them just below Cathy's breasts, "Do you mind?"

Cathy kept her head down but shifted her eyes to the woman's face. She realized Ms. Stockton was asking for permission to touch her breasts. She felt so small; she wished she could've crawled away and hid someplace. She looked up back down at the carpet, "It's OK."

Theresa used both hands. She reached down and gently lifted her breasts. She was able to hold them comfortably in her hands, "They're quite small."

Cathy kept her head down but looked up with her eyes. This was certainly the most humiliating moment of her life. She barely murmured, "Yes."

Everybody watched the little drama that was playing out in front of them. Ms. Stockton, best friend of Steve's deceased wife, primary investor in all Steve's activities, certainly the most influential person in the room was evaluating the young woman they all suspected of being a swindler and cheat. Ms. Stockton, tall, confident, Cathy small and looking very frail; it was like watching a mantis about to wrap its arms around a butterfly. They wondered if she would suck the life out of the young woman right there where they sat.

Theresa let go of the woman's breasts. She took her right hand, placed it under Cathy's chin and lifted her face. Cathy still kept her eyes averted, looking downward. Ms. Stockton said, "No woman's harness I see."

Cathy did look up then. She smiled softly and answered with a little more confidence at the inside joke, "No."

Theresa continued to hold her chin, "How old are you Cathy?"

She blushed, "Twenty-seven."

Theresa commented, "I would have guessed much younger." She looked away, "OK, you can get up."

The group breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Cathy was overcome. She realized Steve had given her a locket that had belonged to his wife, and she knew Theresa was the dead wife's best friend. Cathy also sensed that Theresa knew something more, something very important about her, but she wasn't saying anything. She also felt like she'd been tested, and she thought she'd somehow failed. She got back up and stepped away from the circled guests.

She stood in the background while the guests all talked about trivia. In the midst of everything Barry brought up the main topic, "So Steve you're looking to expand the hospice?"

"Yes, I thought I'd add another wing."

Glynnis commented, "That won't be cheap."

Steve smiled, "I'll need lots of help from my friends."

Everyone laughed. They all knew this was the main reason they were there.

Theresa stopped the levity, "You have any ideas about size, about costs?"

Steve looked pointedly at Cathy, "Cathy go in my office, and bring out that stack of folders on the corner of my desk."

Relieved at the chance to do something, to move around. She got up, "Yes sir.

She started for his office, but before she could escape Theresa stopped her again, "Wait a minute. Come back here Cathy."

Cathy looked at Steve, then came back.

Theresa pointed to the top of the coffee table, "Sit down a minute."

Sitting at the coffee table would place her directly in middle of the entire group. She'd be seated on a table that was perhaps six inches high, much lower than everyone seated around her on sofas and chairs. She took the seat Theresa pointed to.

Theresa looked her up and down, "Has Steve said anything to you about his plans to expand the hospice?" Theresa asked this because she had a suspicion that if this woman could get into anything regarding money it would be any investments in the hospice.

Cathy looked at Steve first, but before she could answer an equally suspicious Glynnis piped up, "Well?"

Cathy looked at Stave again and then at the two people she could see, "Steve and I have talked about it, yes."