Chapter 24: Back on the merry-go-round.

I wrapped up a few reports by five, then headed home a bit earlier than usual. There was a play I wanted to catch at the Stuart Street Playhouse--some long-winded title about the pitfalls of modern dating. I thought that laughing over someone else's dating follies would be nice for a change, and the play had gotten complimentary reviews.

Even though I had chosen the early show, the place was still packed. Luckily for me, there was a single seat in the middle of the fifth row that was still open--apparently, the audience was heavily couple-oriented. <sigh> I should have guessed. I took out an old novel I kept with me--an old Ludlum thriller--for time-killing purposes, but only managed a page before a vaguely familiar waterfall of gold up near the stage drew my attention. Penelope Stanton, her friend, and their escorts were trying to find seats up front, but had to head toward the back of the theater. I shrugged mentally and returned to my book.

(For those of you scratching your head, Penelope had a lovely head of hair. In--or out of, for that matter--the proper light, her hair resembled a molten river of gold. I suppose she was attractive in all the conventional ways, as was her friend, but I frankly wasn't paying any attention.)

The first half of the play was pretty good, though it didn't quite have me riveted to the seat. When intermission rolled around, I headed for the inner courtyard to get some fresh air. After getting through the smokers and their low-lying smog bank, I sat down by the fountain in the middle of the courtyard and watched the falling water. Granted, it was an insipid fountain--four dolphins rearing up, water spitting from their mouths. Still, moving water always had a soothing quality on me, no matter the source.

My back was to the entrance, but I could hear the footsteps of people nearby over the quiet murmur of the fountain. A minute or two after I sat down, two sets of new footsteps made themselves, their sharp clicking sounds a marked contrast to the rest of the crowd. Whereas the other footsteps were slow and relaxed (as befitting people wandering about), these were crisp and decisive. And heading straight for me.

I turned to see Penelope and her friend heading in my direction. Now, that was odd--considering our last, um, encounter, I should have been the last person on earth she would voluntarily approach. I had recently suggested to the senior partners that the firm cancel its plans to establish its own scientific research library, and allocate the not insignificant amount of money set aside for it to better uses. It was much more cost-effective, I argued, to broker a deal with Harvard to use their far superior (and pre-existing) resources for a fraction of the cost. The library had been Penelope's baby, and she was furious when I convinced the senior partners to scrap the project. Actually, furious doesn't even come close to describing her reaction (communicated to me secondhand, natch), much as saying Van Gogh's 'Starry Nights' was just a few dabs of paint on canvas.

By the time all this had flashed through my mind, the two had almost reached the fountain. "Hello, Jordan. Fancy meeting you here," said Penelope politely, stopping in front of me. Very believably civil as well.

"Hello, Penelope. Likewise."

"This is my friend, Claire St. James. She's in the English department over at Boston College. Claire, this is Jordan Hentgen, my firm's new head of scientific resources. I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?" She turned and walked away briskly.

"Color me impressed," I said, turning to look at Claire. "You must be a really good friend of Penny's."

"Why do you say that?" she replied, also sitting down by the fountain, about a foot away.

"You talked her into making introductions."

"Well, that was her fault." A smile appeared on her heart-shaped face. Brushing a lock of wavy brown hair out of her eyes, she continued, "Penny had spent the whole evening ranting to me about how the little Doogie Howser-wannabe twerp had scotched her well-thought-out proposal for the firm's new research center. How you got your job by knowing the right bit of basketball trivia at the right time. She made you sound so diabolically interesting that when we saw you in the theater, I demanded an introduction."

"I'd have argued that it was an over-ambitious associate trying to poach on my turf before I could assert my claims to it, but it all depends on your point of view. And knowing basketball trivia is a whole lot easier than playing a foot piano."

"Like Tom Hanks in 'Big.'"

"Exactly. But, what about your escort? Won't he feel neglected?"

"Those two?" She snorted. "They probably haven't noticed that we came outside yet, they were so busy deconstructing the play. Just can't leave the workplace."