-6-

"Couldn't you contrive a meeting between them first? I think they would be ideally suited," a slightly quivering voice spoke from the other end of the line.

"No, that won't do," Shirley said. "She prefers it like a package delivery."

"Well, that's tough, Shirley," her mother said.

"You don't say," the secretary sighed. "But are you sure you don't know anyone trustworthy who can save my career?"

"Well, aside from Sir. Flufferton and Mr. Piscatso, I don't know anyone with that human quality."

"I trust you to involve cats in our serious conversation, Ma," Shirley said and rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you ask around? Don't you have friends at all?"

Shirley clicked her tongue and felt embarrassed for her lack of social life despite her always socializing. The last time she met up with her old friends was when she walked down the church aisle to her late husband ten years ago. He died when the chemo didn't work. The Duke of Averbury took her in when he spotted her through the car window. She was crying before the Thame, heartbroken and almost penniless. And the rest was history.

She decided to stay in England and worked at the castle ever since. No wonder she had made no real friends. They were just business friends.

"Ma, can you promise me not to say a word about it to anyone?" Shirley warned in a serious voice.

"Who would I tell this to, Sir. Flufferton or Mr. Piscatso?" her mother said. "Besides I wouldn't want to be the reason my daughter gets fired."

"Well, then I would be the reason I get fired if I didn't find a wife for her on time," Shirley murmured before she hung up.

After the fruitless exchanges with her mother, Shirley had never felt a strong urge to pull out her hair as she did now. In all her years of working with the Wintour, she had met all sorts of challenges, big and small, but this one took the cake. Sighing, she leaned back against her office chair and swirled away from the desk to look out the window. This began to feel like a needle-in-the-haystack situation, and she was so nearsighted.

~*~

Jennifer Leighton went through her high school albums. The house was quiet. On the kitchen table, fruit flies hovered over the half-rotten bananas next to her. She was too engrossed with the past to pay any mind. Flipping one page at a time, she looked at the smiling faces of herself and old friends. At least, the past was concrete. After finishing one album, she put it into a cardboard box. It was only a matter of time before they would be forced to move — might as well get everything ready.

When she flipped through the last page of the last album, she found an old high school photo of her and another girl with bright yellow hair. They stood with their backs against each other. Their heads turned toward the camera with a wide happy smile. Jenny remembered the girl immediately. She was a transferred student. Everyone wasn't interested in getting to know her except for Jenny. She protected the girl from the bullies, and they became the best of friends.

After school, they would go down the dirt roads and explore the abandoned houses. They'd find injured squirrels or baby birds and put them back in the trees. She was the closest friend that Jenny had at the time. After graduating from high school, Jenny met her husband and got married while the other went off to college. They continued to write to each other until one day, the letters stopped coming.

Jenny had Clare and her life revolved around her baby girl. As time went by and the thought of her high school friend also drifted away. Now Jenny felt a sudden longing for the same companionship in her youth. She wondered what her friend was doing now.

With an impulse, Jenny got up and went to grab the telephone book. She flipped through the pages until she found a row of identical family names. There were about fifteen Shirley Johnsons. Jenny got her phone out and started dialing from the top one. Fourteen phone calls later, she got put on hold by a nurse for a woman she hoped to be Shirley.

"Hello?" an elderly voice spoke from the other side. Jenny's heart fell. She had tried all of the numbers, and this was her last hope, but the voice speaking to her was obviously someone else's.

"Oh, hello? Sorry to bother you. May I ask if Shirley Johnson is there?" Jenny said.

"No," said the older woman. "She isn't here anymore. She moved to England a long time ago. Who's this?"

Jenny tried not to sound too disappointed.

"I'm her friend from high school," she said. "I've been trying to find her after we have lost touch for many years."

"Ah, now I see," the woman said. "Well, I am her mother."

"Oh! Mrs. Johnson?" Jenny cried. "It's me! I'm Jennifer, you remember me?"

"Jennifer? The pretty girl who chased frogs in the pond with my daughter?" the old lady said. Jenny couldn't help laughing.

"Yes, that's me," she said. "How are you? I didn't know Shirley left for England."

"Yes, she's been working for some rich family there," Mrs. Johnson said. "Otherwise I wouldn't be able to have this special care I do today. I'll give you her number so you can give her a call."

"Oh that would be wonderful," Jenny said and wrote down the numbers from the old woman.

~*~

It was long past noon when Violet awoke. She rarely woke up late. Her housekeepers had crept several times on tiptoe into the room to see if she was stirring, and had wondered what made their young mistress sleep so late. Finally, their bell sounded, and Hannah came softly in with a cup of tea and a tray of truffle omelets and a warm croissant. Sophia drew back the satin curtains with their shimmering gold lining that hung in front of the three tall windows.

"You have slept well this morning," Hannah said, smiling.

"Where is Shirley?" asked Violet, drowsily.

"She is waiting for you at your office, Your Grace," Hannah said.

"Tell her I'll be ready in fifteen minutes," she said, and, having sipped some tea, turned over a pile of letters placed on a small brass tray beside her. They were the usual collection of cards, invitations to dinner, auctions, tickets for private charities and concerts. There were several very courteously worded letters from the banks reporting future investments. She picked the most important ones and left the rest for another time.

After about ten minutes she got up, and, throwing on an elaborate dressing-gown of silk-embroidered cashmere wool, passed into the onyx-paved bathroom. The warm shower refreshed her mind after the deep slumber. She seemed to have forgotten all about the encounter with Eleanor.

As soon as she was dressed, she went into the library where her father's office was. Shirley had been waiting for her on the couch by the door.

"Are you alright?" was the first question Shirley asked her. Violet frowned back.

"What made you ask that?" she said before sitting down at her desk.

"Oh, it's just that you're hardly ever late...so I assumed..."

"I'm fine, thank you," Violet said, brushing her hair back behind her ear as she looked at another pile of papers on her desk. "How's the search going?"

Shirley stiffened a little. She had been nervous about this meeting all morning. Her hand deftly fished out a file from her briefcase and set them on the table for the young duchess.

"I have compiled some profiles using a private service under an alias," she said. "I made sure that it was a hundred percent untraceable before submitting the request, and these are what I have got so far."

Violet picked up the file and opened it. There were printed documents of women with their backgrounds and photographs attached.

Shirley stood, waiting with her heart in her throat as the Duchess flipped through each one of them. Her face was unreadable. A moment later, Violet put the file down and pushed it back to her secretary.

"Throw them out," said the Duchess.

Shirley's eyes widened in surprise.

"But...why..."

"Shirley," Violet said.

The secretary blinked in confusion but she went to retrieve the file nevertheless. She didn't understand. All the women she had chosen were seemingly qualified. They got both the looks and the educations. One of them was even a beauty pageant. Not to mention they were from outside of the country. Still, Violet wasn't interested in any of them.

"I'll keep looking," Shirley said in a resigned voice.

"Bear in mind that I'm not looking for perfection," Violet said before turning her attention to the other tasks. "And please, hurry up."

"Yes, Your Grace." Shirley gave a bow before turning away.

~*~

Back in her office, Shirley flung herself down on her chair and let out a heavy sigh. She rubbed her temple, feeling an upcoming migraine. Suddenly, her cell phone rang. She frowned at the unknown number from overseas but answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Is this Shirley Johnson?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yes, it's me," Shirley said. "Who's this?"

"Oh! Shirley! It's me, Jennifer Hayes from high school, remember?"

Shirley sat up with a start.

"Jenny?" she gasped. "Oh my god, it's been ages since I last heard from you! How are you doing?"

"I'm good," Jenny said. "I found our old photos and decided to try and contact you. Took several attempts before I found your number. Actually, I found your mother's and then she gave me yours."

"I see," Shirley said with a laugh. "I'm so glad to hear from you again. How is David?"

"Oh, he's alright," Jenny said, but there was an underlying tone in her voice. Shirley picked it up quickly like she always did when they were young.

"What's wrong, Jenny?" she said. "You don't sound fine when you mentioned him. Are you two still together?"

"Yes, yes, we are," Jenny reassured her with a laugh. "It's just been a really tough time for us lately. But nothing to worry about. By the way, how are you?"

Shirley knew Jenny was trying to change the subject. All the memories came back to her. When Jenny didn't want to trouble her friend, she would try to steer the conversation to something else.

They talked for a while about their lives after being apart for many years. Shirley told her about her husband, how he died and how she got to work at one of the most beautiful countrysides like Averbury. Jenny sympathized with her heartache and admired her hardworking spirit. At last, Jenny told Shirley about her story.

"Oh that must have been awful for David," Shirley said in pity.

"Honestly, it has been awful for Clare more," Jenny spoke in a sad helpless voice. "She has never had a moment of relief since we went bankrupt. That poor girl is always on her feet."

"Clare?"

"My only daughter," Jenny said. "She's the glue that holds us together, and I love her with all my heart."

"Jenny," Shirley said. "You had been my rock when I needed. I want to help you out."

"Oh, no, please, I didn't call you for money," Jenny said. "We will sort it out once we move to another place. Thank you very much."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Jenny said. She thought it would be undignified of her to ask for Shirley's help after years of no contact.

"Alright then, I wish you all the best," Shirley said.

At last, they said goodbye and promised to stay in touch.

Shirley felt sorry for her old friend and was slightly disappointed that Jenny didn't let her help out. Not that she was loaded or anything, but at least, she could spare them some.

The secretary leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes, but there was something nagging in the back of her mind. Then it hit her like a lightning. She grabbed her phone back and dialed the recorded number. After a few rings, Jenny's voice answered, and Shirley wasted no time.

"Is your daughter single?"