Dearly Beloved

            “Is this seat open?” Sam asked the solitary woman sitting at the table.

The Commerce Council meeting had moved out of the lecture hall into the bar for the mixer phase. Everyone here knew this was where business really took place. Have a drink (or drinks), mingle and make connections – hopefully business related. Being a single woman, Sam had learned to keep her guard up and stick to a two drink limit.

           “Hi. Yes, have a seat,” the woman smiled back - with relief Sam thought. “I’m Margie.”

           “I’m Sam, Samantha,” she replied slipping into the chair.    

           Facing each other, smiles set, the two women checked each other over. To any nearby observer, they were a perfect match - the picture of a “mature business woman.” Both fifty-ish, conservatively well-dressed with perfect hair and nails. Margie with a shoulder length pageboy, had chosen a navy dress half-draped by a pashmina shawl. Sam, edgier with her hair cut short and spiked, contrasted her dark tailored pantsuit with a patterned scarf and big link necklace.

           “This is nice. Have you been to many of these get-togethers?” Margie began.

           “Oh, a few. It’s good for networking, but some of these guys have more than business on their agenda.”

           Margie laughed. “I have noticed. This is only my second time. I have to admit, I was glad when you came to the table.”

           “So what kind of business are you in?”

           “I have an accounting firm. Small scale, mind you, but that’s what I wanted. I get to know all my clients.” After a quiet chuckle, she added, “Sometimes more than I want to. Here let me give you a card. I do taxes – personal and business.”

           Sam studied the card without comment.

“What about you?” Margie continued. “Something more exciting than accounting, I hope.”

           “I have a boutique. Jewelry, scarves, miscellaneous accessories. Perhaps you heard of it - Carlie’s Collections?”

           Margie thought for a minute. “It’s downtown. Middle of the block on First Avenue.”

           Sam sat back with a huge smile. “That’s right! I just love the location. Lots of foot traffic. Have you ever been?”    

           “No, but I don’t go downtown much. At least, not to shop. I have some clients there.”

           “Oh, you should. It’s so invigorating. All the little shops. So fun. And I bet you could find something. I have a bracelet and necklace set that would be wonderful with your outfit. Let me see if I have a picture,” Sam said as she pulled out her phone.

           Margie smiled, “I guess that is more exciting. How long have you had your shop?”

           Sam lowered her phone and looked up at Margie. She was surprised to see Sam suddenly look so sad.

           “I had been thinking of it for years. But I really started planning seriously after Carl died.” Her eyes lost their focus as she slipped into the past. “Carlyle. My dear, sweet Carlyle. He was always such a comfort to me. I think after he was gone, I needed something to take my mind off -” She stopped and snapping back to the present, added with a wan smile. “It was a good distraction. I named the store after him.”

           “I’m so sorry. Losing a loved one is always hard. How long had you been together?”

           “Fifteen years,” Sam shook her head as if remembering them all. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t all cream and roses – or whatever the saying is. And he wasn’t the first, but he was the best.”

           Margie nodded.

           “I suppose some people wouldn’t think fifteen years is so long. I heard some go on to twenty or more,” Sam continued.

           Slightly confused, Margie added with a laugh, “On the other hand, some may think fifteen is way too long.”

           Sam raised her glass. “To love!”        

           Eager to change the subject, Margie followed suit and toasted, “To love … and business!”

           Back to shop talk, they chatted supply shortages, cost per square for rent and the challenges of online advertising. Both pledged to visit the other’s business. Sam was almost finished with her second drink, when two men approached the table.

           “Hi there lovely ladies. I’m Michael and this is my associate, Jules. Could we get you two a drink?”

           Sam, remembering her two drink limit, was ready to decline when Margie, eager for more networking and not having given herself a two drink limit, enthusiastically agreed.

           When the two men left for the bar, Margie leaned closer to Sam and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind. They look nice. It’ll be good for you.”

           The pair returned juggling four drinks and leaving Sam’s reply unspoken.

           They were nice – and smart and good in business. Michael knew some suppliers who could get Margie office supplies for almost half of what she was paying. And Jules had a friend or a relative (or maybe an ex, Sam thought) in fashion who was always looking for new decorative merchandise. As the time passed and the drinks were drunk, the room got louder and louder, until it was almost impossible to hear anyone who wasn’t shouting.

           Michael spoke into Jules’ ear, then asked Sam and Margie if they wanted to go somewhere quieter. Margie grabbed Sam’s hand and with sign language arranged a trip to the Ladies’ Room. Door closed, Margie turned to Sam, bright eyes shining.

           “You’re coming, right?”

           Sam slowly shook her head while answering. “I didn’t come here for a pick up. I didn’t think you were looking for that either.”

           “I wasn’t, but they are so nice. And they can help us. Besides, it will be good for you.”

           “They are nice. They already offered us help. But that doesn’t mean we have to go off with them. And what do you mean it’ll be good for me?”

           Margie glanced down for a second before speaking. “You looked so sad talking about your husband Carl. I bet you haven’t dated at all since he died, have you? It’s time to let him go. Enjoy life.”

           Sam stared at Margie open-mouthed. “My husband?” She started to laugh. She got louder and louder until she was gasping for air. Margie stood motionless watching her. Finally, wiping away the tears and quieted down to a chuckle, Sam replied.

           “Carlyle wasn’t my husband. He wasn’t even my boyfriend. He was my cat!” She pulled out her phone. “A beautiful wonderful cat. Here.” She turned the phone around.

           Margie saw a fluffy gray cat with a sparkling rhinestone collar laying in a patch of sun. Margie studied the picture for a minute, then looked at Sam.

           “Well then, which one do you like – Michael or Jules?”