Act Fifteen - Scene Two: Phone Call

   The phone is ringing. I glance up from the newspaper. I make a move to answer it, but someone in another room picks it up. I settle back down. Norman comes into the room carrying the tray of tea, instead of Dorothy. “Norman, where’s Dorothy?”

    “She’s on the phone, sir.”

    “Oh, on the phone.”

   I begin going back to my paper before I blink and start a little.

   “On the phone? Who would call to talk to Dorothy?” I get quickly from my chair and head out to find her. Absently, I hear Norman’s call of, “Check the kitchen, sir,” and head there.

   “Hello, Smith Residence.” It is how I was instructed to answer the phone when a call comes anywhere but Roger’s office.

    “With whom am I speaking?”

    “A servant in the household. Would you like to speak to Norman or Roger, please?”

    “The person on the phone now is exactly who I wish to speak with.”

    “Who is calling?”

    “That’s of little importance, dear girl.”

    “On the contrary,” I begin, but the voice cuts me off.

    “You’ll be attending the Saint’s Day Ball, won’t you, miss?”

    “Who is calling?”

    “I guess I’ll take that as an affirmative. Your counterpart has a habit of answering questions with more questions, it must be a part of your programming. I look forward to seeing you there.”

    Roger enters the kitchen, and the person on the phone hangs up immediately.

    “Dorothy, who was that?” his voice is high, his eyes skeptical.

    “I do not know,” I respond, hanging up the receiver. I turn back to the dishes and finish washing them. For a moment, Roger stands in the doorway, looking a little disheveled. After a moment of silence in the room he steps over, and rolls up his sleeves to help me with the dishes.

    “What did they want?” he asks casually, taking the dishes and starting to dry them with a cloth.

    “They asked if I would be attending the Saint’s Day Ball.”

    Roger nearly drops a plate. “Was it a man or a woman?”

    “From what I could tell,” I catch the slipping plate and hand it to him, “a woman.”

    “Did you recognize the voice?” He sounds suspicious.

    “Not really.”

    He ponders, and I start to rinse clean dishes again. There is something nagging in the back of my mind... processor. Perhaps I do recognize that voice, only I can not determine exactly from where.

    “Roger, you seem reticent to go to the Saint’s Day Ball, why is that?”

    “Between Heaven’s Day and Saint’s Day, Paradigm takes a vacation, and Saint’s Day is used as a celebratory marker for the start of the new year of business for them.”

    “I thought it was to remember the deaths of all the people who died in the Incident, Roger.”

    “Originally, it was.”

    We continue working on the dishes in silence for a while.

    “Dorothy, I was only unhappy about going before because…”

    “Master Roger, there is a call in your office for you.”

    Roger frowns, I think he is upset about the continuous interruptions. I know Norman does not plan them on purpose, but he certainly seems to have excellent timing at catching us, when we are alone, with something business related. He glances at the clock. It is barely seven-thirty.

    “You normally hold office hours until nine o’clock, Roger.”

    “I know,” he responds with a grumble and puts his dish into the cabinet with a decisive motion. The noise of the cabinet door closing reverberates long after he is gone from the kitchen, carried off by angry, powerful footsteps, and Norman moves to help me finish drying the dishes.

    “Master Roger seemed rather disturbed to be interrupted, Miss Dorothy. Is there any reason for that?” his voice is as unassuming as it always is.

    “I’m not entirely sure if there is or not, Norman.” I honestly cannot put my finger on it. First the phone call, with that strange voice, and then...

    “If you would like to retire,” Norman interrupts my thoughts, “I can finish the dishes, Miss Dorothy.” He smiles at me kindly, in a fatherly manner. He is part of the reason I have been able to stand staying here for so long. But that is a harsh thought. Originally, it was easy because he reminded me of my father. Now, he is a secondary reason to remain...

    “No thank you, Norman.”

   All I have to say is that it had better be important. I loosen my tie and answer the phone. “Roger Smith here.”

    “Mr. Negotiator, I know it is rather late in the day to be calling you…” it’s a woman’s voice. Young. That used to matter more to me.

    “My office phone is answered every evening until nine o’clock. So what can I do for you…?” I am being short with her, and even I can hear it in my voice. It is unfair to her, I haven’t even met her yet.

    “My name is Nadine Fitz, Mr. Negotiator, and I want to hire you.” But I’m still measuring her against the young wo... against Dorothy. It’s something I can’t help anymore.

    “Well, Miss Fitz, would you like to set up an appointment to meet with me and discuss your case?” I want to get off this phone. I want to get back to my prior conversation with Dorothy, I want...

    “Well I’m just outside, Mr. Neogitator, and a few blocks down. I was hoping… if you have the time, that I could stop by now and go over what’s happened with you.”

    I hold back my sigh. “Please do.”

    “Are you certain, Mr. Negotiator? You sound rather… tired.”

    A polite way of saying I sound like I’d rather be doing anything than talking to her.

    “I’ve had a long couple of days, Miss Fitz.”

    “I could… stop by tomorrow if you’re not up to it.”

    Not up to it? “No, please, Miss Fitz, by all means, drop by.”

***