"You certainly seem to have gotten a lot of the facts."
"My dear, I insisted she give me
all
the gory, gorgeous details! The chamois bag was her passport. If Lopez hadn't given it to Elena, she'd still be back there in the mountains, shoveling you know what!"
The sound of the elevator indicated Ferris was arriving. "That's quite a story," Marian was relieved to have an excuse for not finishing the lethal drink. "Maybe after we're settled, if she hasn't found another job — "
"Dear heart, Elena's my Christmas present to you! Try her on for size. Even if you don't drink the drink I fixed for you, at least give the Princess an appointment!"
The interview took place in the old downtown offices, while Marian was packing. Miss D'Ortega did not behave like an ex-Princess or ex-farm girl. "Oh please, let me hand you things while you're asking me questions," Miss D'Ortega suggested.
"You can hand me those books," Marian noted that the girl had only a trace of a Spanish accent. "How did you learn to speak our language so well?"
"I spoke English since childhood, Mrs. Cooper. I came to America at sweet sixteen. I studied speech when I was trying to be an actress."
"I would think acting would be a very good profession for you."
"Never! To me, stage work is…it is not..." She searched for the word. "It is not important work. The work you do — that is important. Ferris told me what wonderful work you do for people…ah…I mean…
Mr. Cooper
, he told me."
"It's O.K. to call him Ferris. You can call me 'Marian.' We use first names around here."
"Then you will give me a chance to work for you, Mah-ri-an?"
"On a trial basis." Marian liked the girl — her old fashioned manners, her breathless enthusiasm, but Charles' enthusiasm had made Marian somewhat apprehensive. "You can start next week when we're in the new office."
Marian's new employee had a better idea.
"I'm good at packing, Mah-ri-an. Can't I help you with the boxes? Then I can be the one to unpack them." Elena was hanging up her fur coat, rolling up her sleeves. Marian noticed that the fur and dress were both fussy, fancy, and expensive.
In the new headquarters, Marian assigned Elena to help Herman with accounting. "If I'm going to be signing on more clients, Herman, you're going to need help with your projections."
Herman was skeptical. Projections were estimates of how much it was going to cost to raise each dollar for the client. They were something Herman had always handled by himself. "If you gave me a young man who liked numbers, a kid who wants to be a lawyer someday, I'd say maybe, but a girl like that — she looks like she should be selling cosmetics."
It was true. The girl did wear heavy makeup, but it was in style. "Herman, we've got seven clients. You and Edna, Victor and I — we simply have to learn to be better administrators. I'm not suggesting you train her to do projections, that'll take a year, but she could help with mechanical details."
Herman sighed. "I'll give her a try but I'm telling you, she's not the type."
It was about a month later, Marian was arranging her private office after hours, when Elena peeked in. "I heard you needed help, Mah-ri-an?"
"Who told you that?" Marian's hands were full of dusty folders.
Elena took a handful. "Actually, I heard a noise. I was reading through some old annual reports. They're fascinating."
"You stayed over time to read an old annual report? That's dull reading."
"It's the company history, I like history. It helps Herman, when I can refresh his memory on how you handled some of the old clients."
"I would think so!"
"Herm's letting me do a projection for the Parks project, so I was looking over some related programs." Elena picked up a dust rag. "My boss shouldn't be getting her hands dirty. You know, if I re-marked these folders with numbers, it would be easier than filing them alphabetically!"
It was all quite remarkable, especially the way Elena looked — it was hard to believe it was the same girl. With hair combed, less makeup, in tweed skirt and plain blouse, she'd transformed herself into a college girl type.
"You really are something, Elena!"
"I like to work with my hands, Mahri. I was brought up on a farm you know."
"Charles told me. But you seem so American today..."
"I'm a naturalized citizen, I've got all the papers if you'd care to see them. I'm not here illegally!"
It was clearly a sensitive subject. "That never occurred to me Elena. But how did you get here? Did you come on a student visa?"
"Such a boring story, our chauffer took me in after the revolucion..."
"La Violencia!" Marian imitated Charles' pronunciation. "I thought Charles said it was the family butler?"
"Such a good memory you have! He was butler and chauffeur — anyhow, it was riches to rags. When I was sixteen the Chauffeur-Butler said, 'Marry or go to work,' and when I said I wanted to work, he gave me my passport!"
"Ah yes, the gold ladle in the chamois bag."
"I shall never marry! I
must
have my freedom.
"I can understand your feeling that way."
"My shrink says it's my
paternal deprivation
complex. Oh, I like men, important and powerful ones. Some of my best friends have been men. But women, I trust more. Haven't you found that to be true?"
Two teaspoons bought Elena a seat in a truck that was traveling East to the Magdelena river. On the river banks, another spoon was bartered for a corner on a barge that was sailing up river to Barranquilla, where a helpful First Mate introduced her to a friend — a Captain of a freighter which was crossing the Caribbean to Mexico.
"And after we arrived in North America it was easy — my friend the Captain introduced me to his friend — the gentleman, who owned the shipping company. My gentleman friend had a Corvette, fantastico — red and silver! He drove me to Brownsville, Texas, and here I am!"
"Here you are," Marian echoed, but she had a lot of questions, for instance, what did Elena mean by the word friend? "Brownsville is a long way from New York, Elena."
"A straight line is not necessarily the shortest distance. Do you really want to hear all these boring details?" Elena started to rattle off the names of cities, the diverse jobs — "I was a waitress in Houston, bar girl in New Orleans, housekeeper in Athens and — "
"Wait a minute...Athens?"
"Georgia. That's where I went to college. My friend was a Professor at the University. I took a few courses — history and language — Frances insisted. Fran was always nagging me about my accent, especially my syntax. But she bought me nice clothes, took me places, told everybody I was her favorite niece, you know what I mean?"
"I think so..." But Marian wasn't quite sure — Elena had a way of making an innocent remark suggestive, and a suggestive remark innocent.
"But then I got mixed up with the Mandrakes — Harry played the piano, Bobby was great on the drums, and I'm not bad on the guitar. Fran hates pop stuff, so when they got a booking in Charlotte I went along for the ride!"
"Sounds like quite a ride, Elena."
"It's on the way to New York. Fran and I keep in touch — she's got a gymnastics instructor now — I imagine Frances is quite content."
"And the Mandrakes?"
"We worked our way up the coast, we were pretty wild trio for a while! But here I am — thanks to my friends!" Elena smiled, indicating the finished, beautifully arranged shelves. "I love to make things neat."
What Elena meant by wild came out in bits and pieces on other overtime occasions.
Friend
meant lover, and
wild
meant wild.
By the end of the first year on the 29th floor, overtime was beginning to be a way of life for all — especially Elena. If she had been unattractive no one would have wondered why she was always offering to stay on after hours. But Elena was exceptionally attractive. Everyone wondered, but no one knew where she lived or what she did with her social life. The girl had a talent for avoiding questions. There was a lot of grapevine speculation — for instance, why was it that every Wednesday Elena D'Ortega wore a severely tailored black suit with an onyx necklace? And who was sending the half dozen Bird of Paradise flowers that arrived, every Friday morning without fail? There were rumors about famous lovers — a movie star, a politician, a renown photographer — but Elena remained a woman of mystery.
FRE took on its first national client — the
Share & Care
project. Marian arrived at seven a.m. one morning to prepare material for a nine a.m. staff briefing.
She discovered Elena asleep on the cot in the ladies room. For a moment, Marian was afraid something was terribly wrong, but then she noticed how neatly Elena's clothes were folded and a travel alarm clock on the sink.
"Elena, are you O.K?"
Elena seemed dazed for a moment, and then she began to giggle.
"What are you doing here?" Marian asked sternly.
Suddenly Elena was shaking and quivering with sobs.
Marian put her arms around Elena's shoulders. All sorts of dire things came to mind. "Do you want to tell me something?"
Elena shook her head. She was very pale. "I can't..."
Marian fixed coffee, but when she brought it into the ladies' room, Elena was fully dressed — not in the clothes that were folded — in an entirely different outfit.
After one sip, Elena was talking about an idea she'd been working on. "Mari, we've simply got to do Art work here! We've got to stop jobbing it out! I've done a work-up — it proves how much money we could save on
Share & Care
alone! You'll flip out when you see it!" Elena was taking out a worksheet.
"Good heavens, not now, Elena!"
"Oh Mari, you're annoyed because I slept in the john. But, I was with Louis — I was afraid I'd be late for the briefing — Lou was doing eighty in the Ferrari — we were practically in Maryland, and he had a ring in his pocket!"
"Louis is who, your friend?"
"A Greek. It was an eight carat Emerald. You'd recognize his last name if I told you, but..."
"I didn't mean to pry."
"Lou's O.K., he did a U turn on the turnpike and here I am! He's really quite nice, maybe not as exciting as Alfredo, but Alf's just a stock broker. There's this Indian — he has a 40 foot Hatteras, and a 35 horsepower Evinrude outboard — and Mari, I adore wind surfing!"
"Sounds like you have a busy schedule."
"Oh God! I've ruined everything!" Elena was in tears again.
"What are you talking about?"
"I shouldn't be telling you these things!"
"You haven't ruined anything," Marian started laughing. "I'm just wondering how you're going to handle so many adoring friends?"
"Mari, men are like Kleenex. Use 'em, toss 'em! There's always a fresh one to pull out of the pack."
"You don't mean that, you funny, crazy girl!"
Grinning through her tears, Elena handed Marian the worksheet. "Wait till you see the totals!"
A short time later, an Art Department began to emerge, and so did a new Elena. First, it was a new hair style — braids, which she wore over each shoulder. Gradually, a complete transformation — hand-woven smocks, artist's portfolio instead of accountant's briefcase, flat sandals, and a new vocabulary studded with artist's and printer's terminology. It was as if Elena had been in Commercial Art for years!
Then, the writer's had problems.
Victor Parsons had been with Marian from the start of the business. Marian was delighted when Victor finally sold his fictional biography on Shakespeare. But Victor didn't get along well with Sasha — she was his talented but temperamental assistant. Between the two of them, office deadlines were not being met.
Marian assigned Elena, hoping Elena would do for the writer's department, what she'd managed for Edna in Art and for Herman in accounting.
Overnight, Elena was in suits and slacks, wearing horn-rimmed glasses, and quoting Shakespeare. Artist's portfolio became writer's briefcase, and the work began to emerge right on schedule.
There wasn't a hint of anything personal. Victor studiously called Elena "Miss Ortega" and Elena formally addressed him as "Mr. Parsons," but as they began to eat paper-bag lunches together, Sasha began drinking too many cocktails.
Marian knew she'd have to let Sasha go. When she called Sasha into her office to talk it over and explain, Sasha seemed to take it very well. But afterwards, Marian heard unusual noises just outside her office — it sounded like a scuffle.
In the hallway, Sasha was dripping with water. Elena was standing there with a vase in one hand, bedraggled Paradise flowers in the other.
"What's going on?" Marian asked.
"Fuck you," said Sasha, stomping out the door.
Marian turned to the red-faced Elena but Elena stomped off to the ladies room.
Victor explained. "T'was a bit of a spat. Sasha wasn't too happy about being terminated and Elena dumped her flowers on the girl."
"Why would Elena do a thing like that?"
"Sasha said some rather nasty things about you. It upset Elena."
"What did Sasha say?"
"Nasty curse words. I've never seen Elena angry. I thought she was going to break the vase on Sasha's head. Used some remarkably strong words herself. I must say, for a girl who was brought up in a convent, Elena has quite a interesting vocabulary."
"A convent?"
"Elena's really a very interesting person, isn't she Mari? Quite unusual."
"Yes. Quite," Marian mused.
The next few years were a boom time — the ten clients doubled — there were twenty-five employees and more being interviewed. When Marian's secretary left to get married, chameleon Elena seemed an ideal replacement. Marian needed someone who could blend, when necessary, into the background, who could pinch hit and take over aggressively when conferences took the director out-of-town — the new clients were from all over the country.
And that was
IT
. By the time Friday of the first week came round it was as if they'd been a team for many years though in fact Elena had been a part of the research exchange for just three years.
On coffee breaks there was always something new. On more than one occasion, Marian was surprised, even rather shocked by some of Elena's madcap adventures.
"You stretch me, Elena," Marian said.
"You always straighten me out when I get off the track, Mari."
"Sometimes I think you invent these stories to keep me amused!" Marian said, but the fact was, no matter how fantastical, the wild side of Elena never interfered with her work.
When Elena appeared with the black eye, Marian had just signed the lease for the entire twenty-ninth floor and the carpenters were starting the renovations. Elena joked about bumping into a ladder, and put in full day — meetings with a client, drinks with the staff at Victor's farewell party, even stayed overtime to review the blueprints and color samples for paint.
"Now that Victor is gone, I can tell you — we were involved, Mari. He's a passionate man, don't let the ivy and the Shakespeare fool you. He wanted to divorce Ceila and marry me, but then last week...well, he caught me with a friend... Oh, Mari, you and Ferris are the only twosome I know, who are a permanent happy couple. Everyone else is a neurotic mess!"
"What about Alex, your shrink — surely he isn't a mess?"
Elena shrugged. "Alex is like my hacienda in Bogata." Her tone of voice was light and gay.
"'A home for the orphans'..." Marian remembered Charles' description.
Suddenly Elena had a tears in her eyes, "Oh Mari, this place — it's my home, and you and Ferris are my family." Then, Elena picked up the blueprint for the executive offices — it was to be a row of cubicles. "Mari, let's take down the partitions and make it one big room! The heads of the departments are always running in and out of each other's offices anyway. It'll be our 'living room'!"
It was a perfect idea — exactly what Marian wanted and needed for her the future of her corporation.
++++++++++
Chapter 29
"Mrs. Cooper sent you here to mollify me. Goddammit Elena, I ask for a conference I expect a conference. Not a secretary stalling me with a layout for a poster."
"Mr. Wexler, I'm second in command." Elena knew it was risky, to disagree with him.
"I am not a man to be diddled with."
"Mr. Wexler, I can assure you, we've been discussing and — "
"Bullshit. Why isn't she here!" Wexler thundered, pounding the desk.
Elena put a hand up to steady the three ivory monkeys that were sitting on his imposing desk. She'd never seen him so upset. "I'm certain Mrs. Cooper intended to be here." The time of the meeting was on Mari's office schedule. She'd reminded Mari over the phone.
"She's with one of your other damn clients — your underprivileged children, your
Biological Club
or that retirement home group," he sputtered. "Goddammit, the Wexler Institute gave you people a hundred-thousand dollar retainer six months ago. Six months ago, there were two-hundred visitors to the gallery per day. There are still only two-hundred on a good day! I'm prepared to spend big money, I want to hear suggestions! I want to bring art to the public — this year, not next year!"
"Mr. Wexler, something extraordinary must have come up, otherwise Mrs. Cooper would be here with me."
"Balderdash and more bullshit. I'm sixty-seven-years-old. You don't con a man my age with 'something extraordinary must have come up.' I'm going to call Paul — he's the one that brought me to you as a client. He can get me out of my contract."
Elena bit her lip, wanting to explain about Mari's personal problems, knowing Mari wouldn't want her to. "Marian Cooper wouldn't have taken you on as a client if she didn't feel that your project is important, that's what's unique about FRE — there are plenty of fund-raising companies that would take you on and promote Art, but Marian believes in it."
"So why hasn't she come up with an idea?"
One of the monkeys had fallen on its side. Elena straightened it up. "I don't think you need to phone Paul Sheldon." She could see that Wexy was finally focusing on her. "Maybe we can take advantage of the fact that Mrs. Cooper isn't here. She always says the right idea comes to her from something that the client says that strikes a spark. Sometimes I can help her find the spark!"
Wexler took out a cigar. "Do you mind if I smoke? Help yourself."
Elena rarely smoked but she took a cigarette so that Wexler would light it for her.
Wexler took a puff, sighed as he let out the smoke. "I've always wanted to ask you about your name, 'Ortega'. Is it Spanish? How old are you...Never mind," He laughed dryly. "I'm old enough to be your father, I just an old man who finds you a delightfully charming lady. Maybe you ought to come and work for me?"
"I love my job, Mr. Wexler and I am working for you."
There was a pause. They both inhaled.
Wexler nodded. "'Spark'... Mrs. Cooper is right, Elena. There has to be something that we can do that strikes the spark in young people, that competes with rock concerts, movies, sports —
spark
is a damn good word. I'd like to ignite a love for what I love, what I've spent my life enjoying — I'd like to fire up a million people in this city before I die."
"Don't go dying on us, Mr. Wexler, we need you and your art. I showed a gum-chewing receptionist those glorious full color photos of the paintings. You should have seen her telling the other secretaries about them. It's really remarkable how Nancy changed, because her eyes have seen the glory!"
"'Mine eyes have seen the glory...'" Wexler nodded, tasting the phrase that Elena had used.
"
Maybe that's an idea — we could use that song! Make it a theme for an art show that could be taken around to schools. Music...full color blowups of the pictures...A bus and truck museum on wheels?"
"A bus and truck museum.... Not bad." Wexler's eye sparkled.
Elena was already figuring. "It would take a lot to make it work, more than a million dollars if you wanted to tour all around the country."
Wexler stood up, didn't say anything for a moment. When he began speaking again his tone of voice was soft and thoughtful. "Elena my dear, I've been talking to Paul about a proposition..."
"Yes?"
"We're considering making an offer... Well, you could call it a purchase offer... If Mrs. Cooper weren't so busy with so many clients...if we could have her mind and yours, my dear, concentrating on
sparks
for the Wexler Institute, the Institute might become a powerful influence in the Arts."
Elena's mind was high-speeding ahead. The idea of Wexler buying control of the corporation was not impossible, but it would mean drastic changes, a totally different direction for FRE. "May I trouble you for an ashtray please?"
Wexler passed it to Elena. "My pleasure."
Elena flicked off an ash, studying the porcelain ashtray. "I love Dresden-Meissen and your Aubusson carpet." She tapped her feet on it, noting his eye following her legs down to the floor, then, diverted him to the monkeys which she lightly caressed. "But these are my favorites. I'm afraid my taste is rather prosaic!" She had a feeling they were his favorites, also.
"'Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, See No Evil.'" Wexler adjusted them. "My wife gave them to me a long time ago. You know I'm a widower. And you are playing 'Circe' again, aren't you Miss Elena?"
"Mr. Wexler, you're an attractive man. Of course I'm flirting with you. I admire a strong, powerful man who knows what he wants." Elena put out her cigarette. "Are you getting Paul to invite you to the annual board meeting? Is that when you're planning to make the offer?"
"You're a very astute young lady."
"I have a very astute boss for a teacher." Elena moved to the door. "I imagine you'll make it an attractive offer financially — one that the board members can't resist, I imagine... But what about my boss?"
"What about you, Elena?"
Wexler smiled. Elena smiled back. Neither spoke while Elena put things back into the portfolio.
"Mr. Wexler, are you offering me
her
job?"
"You go right to the point, don't you? Are you going to have dinner with me tonight if I ask you?"
"I'm married, Mr. Wexler. My husband is a very fine painter. So you see, I'm someone who really has something at stake in the future of Wexler Institute." Elena gave Wexler her mischievous smile. "I don't think dinner is a good idea but I'd love to have lunch with you, why don't I call you the end of the week?"
Elena, what are you doing here in the dark?" Marian turned on the light over her driftwood desk.
"Looking for a safe place for this stuff." Elena indicated the portfolio with the art work.
"I got stuck at the hospital so I couldn't make it to the meeting. How was Wexler?"
"I think the big bad wolf wants to eat us all up!"
"He's just anxious for us to get going. He'll simmer down." Marian waved the letter she was holding. "Right now we've got more urgent problems!"
"California?"
Marian nodded. "The mail clerk handed it to me on his way out."
"You mean Eddie — Nancy's lover boy?"
"I guess it was Eddie — all the mail room boys are beginning to look the same to me." With a sigh, Marian sat down. "What are we going to do about the style show luncheon, Elena? We've got to set the date. The speech needs to be re-done..." Marian folded her hands, unfolded them, and looked up at her assistant. "Elena, you are going to have to go to California."
"But Mari, they're expecting you! I can't go away now! You know I can't make speeches!"
"There's no one else to ask but you. Elena, you can do anything you put your mind to doing."
"But Mari, you worked so hard to get this client. And I know how much this idea means to you." Elena was pacing. "Planting roots for children, not trees — and those
Caucus Club
women are counting on you. And you're such a powerful public speaker!"