Dear Slovenly Miss. Lazybones,
People should be judged by what they look like—not 100%, but it should be taken into account. If you work hard on yourself, take care of yourself, then it’s a reflection of the person within.
People are more than just their brains. Like it or not, assuming a person has control over their personal appearance, the body is just as important.
If you ignore your body, you are ignoring an essential part of yourself.
-Ronan
***
The third gift arrived late in the afternoon on March 16.
I was just returning from my walk in Central Park when Tony called to me before I could make it to the elevator.
“Ms. Catrel! Wait—wait a moment.” He jogged over. I’d never seen him jog before.
“Oh, hi. Thank you again for your help with the flowers yesterday.”
“No problem at all, Ms. Catrel.” He made me a little polite bow then glanced over his shoulder. I followed the path of his eyes and found a very pretty lady in a very nice suit walking toward us. “So, this lady here”—Tony lowered his voice and threw a thumb over his shoulder— “she’s from Cartier, and she—”
“Ms. Catrel?” the woman asked with a wide smile. “Are you Ms. Annie Catrel?”
I nodded, shrinking back a little. She was so very pretty, sleek even. Her makeup was impeccable in a way I’d never mastered, even when I’d dabbled with eye shadow and lipstick in the past. She was also very tall, with very black hair, and very blue eyes, and very white, straight teeth.
“This is for you.” She reached into an attaché case and withdrew a red velvet box, pushing at me until my hands automatically lifted to grab it.
“For me? What is it?”
She gave me a very nice smile. “Compliments of Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
Then she turned and left, her heels clicking and echoing on the stone floor.
I glanced from Tony to the box. He shrugged then sighed, “So…this guy, this Mr. Fitzpatrick, is he going to keep sending you gifts? I mean, not that it’s any of my business. But if he is, we should maybe set up some kind of system for receivership if you’re not in the building.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, Tony. I honestly don’t know what’s going on.”
“Really?” He sounded both skeptical and amused. “Ms. Catrel, let me spell it out for you: I think you’re being wooed.”
My eyebrows jumped, causing Tony to chuckle. Then he turned and left me, too.
I gripped the box tighter and made my way to the elevator, feeling a buzzing sense of unease. In my hands was a velvet box from Cartier, hand-delivered by the store, compliments of Ronan Fitzpatrick.
Back in my small living room, I placed the box on the coffee table and went to my room to change. I decided that, whatever it was, I had to send it back. Part of me didn’t even want to open it. What was the use of opening it when I couldn’t keep it?
But curiosity eventually overcame the better part of valor. I sat on the couch, took a deep breath, and then opened the box.
There was a note. I picked it up. Beneath the note was a delicate gold necklace with an attached gold and diamond pendant. It was breathtaking. The pendant was comprised of a series of intricate knots; I recognized them as Celtic, but I had no idea what they meant. A larger diamond was set very tastefully within the center of the knot; as well, several smaller stones were set in highlighted relief along the outside border.
It was really quite magnificent. Refined, understated, subtle, and yet must have been outrageously expensive. I quickly closed the box, setting it back on the table, then turned my attention to the note.
It read:
Dear Annie,
I saw this today, and it reminded me of you. Do not even think about trying to give it back to me; I’ll not take it. You’ll have to donate it to charity if you don’t want it. It is freely given and comes with no strings attached. Though, if you decide to model it for me while naked, I’ll not complain.
-Ronan
***
March 16
7:30 p.m.
Dear Ronan,
I cede your point about the physical being an important part of self; it’s important to be healthy, I agree. But I don’t understand spending hours primping or spending hundreds of dollars on clothes that go out of style after two months. Extremes—in either direction, ignoring the physical or giving it too much importance—I think are counterproductive and dangerous to overall well-being.
Though, you must admit, in-person interactions are fleeting. But online the interaction is preserved (basically) forever. Nothing is fleeting because it can be revisited anytime you wish.
Give it a chance!
- Slovenly Miss. Lazybones
March 16
11:15 p.m.
Dear Secretly Miss. Lonelyheart,
If you want to preserve in-person interactions, all you need to do is record them…. I’ve done this in the past, each time with stellar results.
It sounds to me like, as much as I need lessons in social media, you need lessons on how to truly live. When’s the last time you experienced any kind of in-person interaction that left you breathless or excited? Nothing online can come close to experiencing the touch of another person, a kiss, a caress—or the anticipation of these things.
Nothing in this make-believe world comes close.
I would send you a link to an article on the subject, but that would really undermine my point. You need to actually experience it. Take your own advice and give it a chance.
-Ronan
Chapter Eight
March 17
1:14 a.m.
Dear Ronan,
I’m not ignoring your last message, but I’m writing you now because I wanted to be the one to tell you before you found out from someone else. This article (attached) hasn’t been published yet, but it will be in tomorrow’s newspaper, and shortly after that all over the gossip sites. As you read it, you’ll see that your ex-girlfriend is accusing you of domestic violence and years of emotional abuse. I have a friend at the paper who sends me celebrity stuff before it’s in print.
Please don’t react! You should probably make a few benign posts on Twitter today, maybe about your boring diet (take pictures) or about your friend Tom’s restaurant. I will also be happy to tweet back and forth with you about something related to your charity.
Just…don’t react to it. She sounds completely crazy. If you react, you’ll be playing right into her hands.
Sincerely, Secretly Miss. Lonelyheart
Annie
My internal debate lasted from the time I went to bed at 1:30 a.m. until I awoke from a fitful sleep at 7:13 a.m.
Then it lasted two minutes more. I could stay at home and work and ignore my worry about Ronan and his spiteful ex-girlfriend, wait to be contacted by the office once the story was printed; or I could go into work, break the news to Joan, and have him called in for a damage-control meeting.
Ultimately, I gave into the urge to seek out Ronan. I justified it to myself by recalling that he wasn’t just any client. We’d been partnered, and Joan wanted me to be more present in the office. Plus, I could use it as an opportunity to return the necklace.
When I arrived at the office Monday morning, the streets were already crowded with people setting up for New York’s St. Patrick’s Day parade. I wasn’t scheduled to be in the office until Wednesday and may have been checking both my work account and my Socialmedialite email account obsessively on the way in, hoping he would email one of us. I was also checking his Twitter feed, hoping he didn’t plan to retaliate publically.
As soon as I arrived, I went to Joan’s office. Her assistant told me she’d arrived an hour ago but was currently in a meeting. I asked that she call me as soon as she had a free moment and then I retreated to my office.
I was able to get some work done. Focusing on the beginnings of an action plan to counter Brona O’Shea’s propaganda was a good way to channel my restless energy, but I continued to check my emails.