By Any Other Name
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
~William Shakespeare
She
remembered exactly how it had started. They had entered the main lobby
from a walk at the same time, she happy and warm in only jeans and a
sweater, he grumbling about the cold weather, despite his coat and
scarf. She had admired the expensive-looking dress coat, but found it
rather amusing, given that their Florida resort was 50-ish already, at
only ten in the morning. He had caught her gaze and turned, smiling.
“You don’t think this is freezing?” he asked incredulously.
“I spent the last winter in Wisconsin, and the winter before in Maine. No. This is quite warm, actually.” she answered.
He
finished unbuttoning his coat and untied his scarf. “I am from southern
California, so this is very cold. Are you headed toward the coffee
shop?”
She ducked her head, “Yes. But not because I’m cold, I just need caffeine.”
They
had enjoyed their Friday morning coffee. This was an extended weekend
conference for writers, editors and publishers, and the first session
was not until after lunch, leaving them time to become acquainted with
the very luxurious resort that housed their hotel, conference center,
and multiple restaurants, a gift shop, and a coffee shop. They had
discussed everything but themselves. Shakespeare, Keats, and Wordsworth,
to the latest books on the New York bestseller’s list. It went from a
serious discussion to a mild flirtation before their coffees were half
gone. They had departed for lunch reluctantly, only to end up again in
the same restaurant. They shared a table, both having come to the
conference on their own, as opposed to the many publishing companies
that had sent large groups, who talked loudly, laughing and criticizing.
They had been tucked in a quiet corner, and ate their lunch almost
shyly, their discussion turning to their mutual love for traveling. They
did not purposefully seek one another out, but over the rest of the
day, they bumped into each other several more times, almost as if it
were fate.
Saturday
morning, both migrated to the coffee shop at the exact same time as the
previous morning, and again sipped their coffees together, this time
discussing politics and history. The mystery of their acquaintance was
so entrancing to both that even after that, the fifth meeting, they
still had not exchanged names. Something in the ability to freely state
their opinions, and even their heart, without strings attached, kept
them silent on the subject of personal details.
They parted way for the morning clinics, only to meet again at lunch, and dinner.
Sunday
night was the climax of conference, with a masquerade. She went as
Elizabeth Bennett, in a silvery Regency style ball gown, with her hair
twisted up in silver combs, and a beaded silver mask that outlined her
eyes and shaded her cheeks. She danced a dance with a Zorro, and
Sherlock Holmes, and a Robin Hood, before meeting him again, dressed, to
her great delight, as Mr. Darcy. He recognized her, even behind the
mask, and bowed long and low.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I have this dance?” he asked in perfectly serious courtesy.
She ducked her head and blushed, then curtseyed, “With pleasure, Mr. Darcy.”
Neither
danced with anyone else the entire night, and they parted after the
unmasking with a gentle kiss and whispered good nights, addressed almost
teasingly to Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, the only names they knew each
other by.
Monday
morning they were officially released, and though both stopped at the
coffee shop for a coffee before they left, neither saw each other, and
both left with a small sense of dissatisfaction.
In
the coming days and weeks, that grew into misery. Their times of
talking had made both wonder if they had truly found their soul mate,
but without even a name, they had returned to their daily lives, knowing
that there was no other recourse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Fine, Evie, I will come.” she said tiredly.
“Good! My boss is in a funk, and you are a grump, but maybe I can cheer you up, at least.”
“Great.” she said, “I’ll land at 11:00, and meet you at your office and we can go to lunch.”
“Perfect!” Evie chirped. “Please don’t forget to pack your smile!” She said cheerily before hanging up.
She
hung up her phone sadly. She was a grump and she knew it. Her latest
book had not gone beyond outline stage. She could hardly bear to write a
romance. She told herself that it was nothing, that what she had shared
with her Mr. Darcy was simply a short flirtation, two lonely adults
that had enjoyed each other’s company, but she still longed for it.
Maybe a visit to California would help.
Maybe
it would not, she realized as she stepped out of the airport. This was
the state where HE lived. Maybe she would see him. It seemed very
likely, she realized sarcastically, given that there were 38 million
people living in the state.She shoved those depressing thoughts out of
her head, and picked up her rental car, determined to be cheerful for
her friends sake. She flipped on the radio as she headed toward the
office building where her friend worked. Maybe something peppy would
keep her from being grumpy. Instead, the song on the radio was something
about a lost love, and made her click it off in frustration.
She
arrived at the building, a publishing company,, and made her way up to
the top floor where her friend worked. Evie greeted her cheerfully and
directed her to a chair.
“I’ll
be just a couple of minutes. My lunch break is in three minutes, but
given the way my boss has been acting lately, if I were to leave early, I
might not have a job when I got back.” Evie turned back to her
computer. Her normally bubbly friend sank into the chair, then jumped to
the window, gazing sullenly at the sidewalk down below, almost as if
searching for someone. Evie shook her head and picked up the papers
fresh from the printer.
Her boss entered her slightly open door. “Can you get these......Elizabeth?”
Evie
gaped. Her friend had swung around at his entry, and stood with an
absolutely awestruck look on her face. He took another step into the
room, and she smiled.
“Mr. Darcy.”
Evie blinked, looking back and forth. Her friend’s name was certainly not Elizabeth, but that was obviously not bothering her.
“Coffee, maybe?” He asked, “Then lunch.”
“Iced coffee,” she told him smilingly, “It is too warm for hot.”
He offered her his arm, and they exited without a backward glance.
Evie turned off her computer and grabbed her purse. She was obviously going to have to find her own lunch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comment, please!
~Clio
