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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 6, 2009 16:25:20 GMT -5
“We are,” Kit replied in the same distant tone she had used on Beatrice when asked about Esmé. “It’s just that things change, Beatrice. People change.”
“Have the Squalors changed?” Beatrice asked.
Averting her daughter’s eyes, Kit looked down at her hands. “I wish I knew.”
“What were they like when you did know them?”
“Please, dear,” Kit said patiently. “This is neither the time nor place to have this discussion. I’ll tell you about it some other time.”
Beatrice took this as a sign to drop the conversation, and lifted up the glass containing a pale green liquid she had yet to taste that Mrs. Squalor had served her with dinner. Beatrice was just about to take her first sip, when Emma returned to the dining room. Behind her was Mr. Squalor, his arm wrapped tightly around a slightly tearful Mrs. Squalor.
It had been years since Kit had seen Esmé shed any tears, and the last time it had occurred Esmé could not have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old. Since Kit remembered Esmé as the cold, conniving villainess that Olaf had transformed her into, it came as a bit of a shock that the financial advisor was capable of showing any real human emotion.
Kit immediately scolded herself for such a slanderous thought. Certainly Esmé must have undergone some sort of significant changes over the years, or why else would she be living with the husband she had once abandoned?
Clearing her throat, Kit asked, “Is everything alright?”
Jerome nodded, and looked sadly down at his wife, who was lingering in the entranceway. “Fine,” he replied, perhaps a little too absentmindedly. “Esmé just isn’t feeling very well, I’m afraid.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Kit, who wasn’t sure if she believed that Esmé was suffering from any such condition. She had always been a gifted actress, and had fooled numerous people on several occasions. “Perhaps it’s best if I take my daughter and go, then. We wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“But you wouldn’t be!” Emma exclaimed. She still wasn’t exactly sure why her mother was so upset, but she doubted it had anything to do with Kit Snicket, since she and Esmé had only just met.
Hadn’t they?
Jerome felt badly about forcing Esmé to come face to face with the woman she claimed to hate so much. However, he didn’t want to be rude to Kit or to Beatrice, and he certainly didn’t want to leave his wife alone, even for the sake of being hospitable. Realizing that he really had no choice in the matter, he had come to the decision that he would simply have to take Esmé with him into the dining room, weather she liked it or not.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 6, 2009 19:53:41 GMT -5
Though that last part stung quite a bit, Kit was careful not to become emotional. She had always done an impressive job of controlling her emotions around others (not like her two brothers), and rarely cried unless she was alone.
“I see,” Kit said, and took a slow sip of her tea. “That’s wonderful. Fiona will be pleased to know that her brother is close by.”
“Actually,” Jerome replied, “the Hotel Denouement is quite a ways from Poultryville, which is the town where Fernald and his family reside in.”
“His wife happens to be my best friend,” Esmé added. “Perhaps you may have heard of her: Colette Dubois.”
“Yes,” Kit said. “As a matter of fact, her name has come up in numerous conversations. But never has anyone mentioned anything about her romantic involvement with Fernald Widdershins.”
“Well, that isn’t surprising. The two of them did a very impressive job at hiding their relationship from the troupe. Even I had no idea until Jerome and I ran into them at the Not So Supermarket just last year.”
Jerome was grateful that his wife seemed to be getting on (relatively) well with Kit Snicket. However, Esmé’s tone was still questionable at this point, and there was no way he would even consider leaving the two women alone for any amount of time whatsoever.
“Beatrice seems very eager to have your entire family over to the hotel,” Kit continued.
Jerome took this as his opportunity to take over his wife’s half of the conversation. “Emma expressed a serious interest in your daughter’s invitation,” he said.
Kit smiled. “Beatrice has a tendency to make plans on my behalf without checking with me first. But this is the first time she’s had a friend since our arrival in the city, and so I can’t possibly blame her. She’ll be overjoyed to have Emma spend a night or two at the hotel, but I already told my daughter that it’s up to you and your wife to decide what happens from there.”
Not wanting to make the same mistake he had made when inviting the Widdershins over to dinner, Jerome turned to his wife.
“Well,” Esmé said, “I suppose it will be alright. However, there is one thing that worries me.”
“What’s that?” Kit asked.
Lifting her head, Esmé’s blue eyes met directly with Kit’s green ones. “Ghosts.”
Kit couldn’t keep the smile from her lips, which only angered the financial advisor.
“You don’t believe in ghosts, I suppose,” Esmé said, irritation lacing her voice.
“On the contrary,” Kit replied. “I’ve seen them for myself, many times.”
“Beatrice seems to think they’re friendly,” Jerome said.
“They are.”
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Post by Jenny on Jan 7, 2009 14:12:52 GMT -5
Esmé didn't quite know the best way to phrase the question she wanted to ask most of all without making Kit angry, which would have made the situation even more uncomfortable. Luckily, her husband decided to ask it for her.
'I think what worried us most,' he admitted, and ran a hand through his hair, obviously a little embarrassed at having to take the lead in an awkward conversation. 'Was that Beatrice mentioned that the ghosts are people we remember from years ago.'
'And what concerns us most,' Esmé added. 'Is that if Emma does stay at the hotel with Beatrice, that she might see them.'
'I don't know how much you've told Beatrice about the fire, and about the people who died in it,' Jerome took over again, and Kit tried to contain her smile. Since when did a couple that had never gotten on complete each other's thoughts? 'But we certainly haven't mentioned much of it to Emma.'
'And that's how we'd prefer it to stay,' Esmé finished, and Jerome nodded.
'Well, if it would make you feel any better,' Kit said, thinking quickly of a solution. 'Then of course you could come and stay along with Emma. I mean, that way, you'd be able to know where she was, and at least be there to explain if she did by any chance find out any...details of the fire you hadn't wanted her to know.'
Kit knew, of course, that it wasn't so much details of the fire that Jerome and Esmé wanted to keep Emma from hearing. She couldn't know it for sure, but if they hadn't told Emma about the fire, they probably wouldn't have told her about her mother's villanous past, or about everything else that had happened at the Hotel Denoument.
Jerome seemed to consider it, but Esmé's head snapped up in alarm. Spend a couple of days with the Baudelaires, Fiona Triangle-eyes Widdershins, Kit Snicket and the ghosts of all the people she'd tricked wasn't exactly a most inviting prospect. Besides, she could see it now--everyone would be delighted to see Jerome, of course, he had been nothing but kind to everyone for his whole entire life, and Beatrice and Emma were good friends, so no-one would look at her twice. And then there would be her. Completely out numbered by people that hated her.
Unless...
'Well, perhaps,' she said, and Jerome looked the picture of shock at that. 'I was thinking that Beatrice might like to meet Faust. She's another of Emma's friends. Then Beatrice could make another friend in the city.'
Of course that was all well and good, but Kit wasn't stupid, and the tilt of Esmé's chin and the raise of one of her dark eyebrows was enough to let her know that she had an ulterior motive. It was how Olaf had always looked, of course. Years of learning and imitation.
When Kit failed to reply, Esmé spoke again. 'Well,' she said. 'That would be nice, wouldn't it?'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 7, 2009 16:05:12 GMT -5
Once again, Jerome cut in. “Faust is Fernald and Colette’s daughter,” he explained. “She’s eleven, and a particularly lovely child. A little hyperactive at times, but nice.”
Kit nodded thoughtfully. “I see,” she replied. “Well, Faust and her parents are welcome to come as well. The more the merrier, as my father always said.”
“What day shall we be expected to arrive?”
“Why not this Friday? Emma can ride the bus back to the hotel with Beatrice, and the rest of you can meet us there.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Jerome said, and then turned to his wife. “Isn’t this the week Colette starts her new job at the bank? Why don’t Fernald and I pick the two of you up there on Friday afternoon, and we can all drive to the hotel together?”
“Alright,” Esmé replied, and once more looked to Kit Snicket. “Thank you for your invitation. I’m sure Emma will be thrilled when Jerome and I tell her the news.”
Kit smiled, and soon after went with the Squalors to collect Beatrice. The girls were seated together at the computer in Jerome’s study, playing an online game of solitaire.
“Come along, Beatrice,” Kit said from the doorway. “It’s time to go.”
“Oh, just a few more minutes, Mother?” Beatrice whined in a way that reminded Esmé eerily of Olaf. The financial advisor cringed inwardly, as Emma had never managed to sound as much like her father as Beatrice had done. “Just until we finish our game?”
“I mean it now, Beatrice,” Kit said, though still managed to hold her smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Squalor have been very kind to have you over, and I won’t have you taking advantage of their hospitality.”
“Besides,” Jerome added helpfully, “you don’t want to do anything that might prevent Emma from coming over on Friday, do you?”
The two girls gasped simultaneously, their faces turning away from the computer screen and their eyes meeting.
“Do you mean it, Mother?” Beatrice asked from over her shoulder.
“Is it true, Jerome?” Emma added from over her shoulder.
“Yes,” Kit said to Beatrice, “as long as you behave yourself for the rest of the week.”
“And that goes for you, too, Emma,” Jerome added.
“I’ve also invited Emma’s parents to come along,” Kit said. “As well as some friends of theirs, the Widdershins. Mr. Widdershins is the elder brother of Fiona.”
“The one she’s always talking about?” Beatrice asked.
“The very same. He and his wife have an eleven-year-old daughter, who will be joining them.”
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Post by Jenny on Jan 7, 2009 17:03:39 GMT -5
Emma was quite shocked to hear that Faust would be coming with them to the Hotel Denoument, and she couldn't decide whether she liked it or not. Faust was a bit younger than herself and Beatrice and didn't always want to talk about the same things. Faust was completely hyperactive, all the time, and sometimes she was a bit annoying. She couldn't help but think that maybe her and Beatrice could have done quite well without Faust tagging along behind, even if she did like the eleven-year-old.
Nevertheless, that didn't stop her being excited about that Friday. She walked with Beatrice to the door, and then once she and Kit Snicket had left, she turned around and wrapped her arms around her mother.
'Are you OK?' she asked. She hadn't forgotten seeing her mother tearful earlier on, and she hated to think that she had upset anyone by having Beatrice and her mother over.
Esmé couldn't supress a smile. Even if she always felt guilty for making Emma worry about her, it was still nice to know that her daughter really did care about her tremendously. 'I'm absolutely fine, darling,' she said, and looked back into Emma's equally blue eyes. 'And I'm sorry if you were worrying about me.'
'Was it because of Mrs Snicket?'
Esmé wasn't sure how to respond to that, and instead just shook her head, and kissed her on her forehead. 'Don't you worry about that,' she said.
~
Once Emma had finally determined that her mother wasn't upset and left to have a shower, Esmé crossed to the sitting room, and picked up the phone.
'What are you doing?' Jerome asked, sitting down beside her, wary that she might've still been upset.
'Calling Fernald and Colette,' she explained. 'To convince them to come on Friday. I can't possibly go without them.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 7, 2009 20:53:07 GMT -5
Esmé dialed the numbers on the telephone and then held it to her ear. It was five whole rings before someone picked up, and the voice on the other line brought a smile to the financial advisor’s face.
“Hi.”
“Hello, Faust,” Esmé said, and Jerome grinned. “This is Mrs. Squalor. Tell me, is your mother available?”
“Just a second,” Faust replied, and then: “MAAAA-MEEEE!!! MRS. SQUALOR’S ON THE PHONE AND WANTS TO TALK TO YOOOOU!!!”
Though she was still smiling, it was necessary for Esmé to hold the phone away to avoid the possibility of deafness in her right ear.
“Faust, please,” came the French-accented voice of Colette Widdershins a moment later. “Use your indoor voice.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Faust replied in a much more mellow tone.
Esmé waited patiently, while Colette ordered Faust to go into her room and get ready for bed. Afterward, Colette spoke to Esmé.
“Esmé, how nice it is to hear from you,” Colette said. “How are you?”
The question caused tears to spring to Esmé’s eyes, and she turned towards the wall in the hope that Jerome wouldn’t notice. “I’m fine,” she replied, and blinked back her tears. “How are you? And how are Fernald and Faust?”
“Faust is fine, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Fernald,” Colette sighed. “He just got demoted to stocking shelves at the Not So Supermarket, after only being on register for two weeks. His manager’s excuse was that he wasn’t typing in the numbers fast enough. Honestly, the nerve of some people!”
“That’s terrible,” Esmé said. She wondered if perhaps she could pull some more strings with Mr. Poe, and get Fernald a job at Mulctuary Money Management alongside Colette. After a moment, however, Esmé thought better of the idea, considering how irritating it would be having Jerome around her all day. True, he was the most loving, caring husband any woman could ever hope for, but even the most secure of marriages can fall apart if people have to spend the entire day together. “Well, maybe Fernald’s manager will reconsider. Besides, two weeks isn’t really enough time to learn a new trade.”
“It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was doing,” Colette explained. “It’s that his hooks kept getting in the way.” She sighed, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s very difficult for someone in Fernald’s position to find something he’s good at that will also boost his confidence. And I don’t think that stocking shelves at the Not So Supermarket does much to improve that.”
Esmé suddenly felt very guilty, having not known that the Widdershins were in the middle of a family crisis. But perhaps she could word what she said next so that it didn’t sound like a request. “Colette,” she said. “How would you, Fernald and Faust like to come with Jerome, Emma and me for a getaway this coming weekend?”
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Post by Jenny on Jan 8, 2009 15:47:32 GMT -5
Colette already felt grateful enough towards Esmé for securing her a job at Mulctuary Money Management even though Colette had no experience or qualifications to speak of. Now, however, she felt like she really could have driven all the way to the penthouse and kissed her friend. This was the perfect opportunity for her to attempt to take Fernald's mind off the problems he had with his job, and for Faust to see Emma for a couple of days, which she would find delightful. And, of course, a proper chance to catch up with Esmé over the weekend.
Holding down an excited squeak, she responded. 'I couldn't think of anything better,' she answered, and smiled to herself at what her daughter would say when she told her. 'Where to?'
Esmé held her breath. 'Well, the things is, I do have a favour to ask of you.'
Colette didn't see anything wrong with that. After all, because Esmé had known how much financial difficulty Fernald and Colette were in, she had done Colette a favour by finding her a job at the bank, which would be immensely helpful. She had even helped her purchase something to wear to work, as she didn't have anything remotely suitable. Anything Colette could do to help her, she would.
'What is it?' she asked.
Esmé bit her lip. 'We might have a few other people with us,' she stated.
'Oh?' Colette enquired, once again seeing nothing amiss. She liked having people to talk to, and if they were friends of Esmé's they were friends of hers.
'Kit Snicket,' Esmé blurted, and Colette froze. 'And the Baudelaire's. And Fiona Widdershins.'
'What?' Colette cried into the reciever. 'You aren't friends with the Baudelaire's, Esmé! I know we reconciled, but isn't that going a bit far?'
Esmé sighed. 'The problem is,' she explained. 'It seems Emma and Kit's daughter have become very good friends. They go to the same school, and they're desperate to stay over at....well, at Kit's. It's just that I thought if you came with me----'
'---Then you wouldn't be so outnumbered,' Colette finished. 'And especially if Fernald.....did you say Fiona Widdershins?'
'Yes,' she answered. 'I thought this was a great way for them to get in touch again. And Faust can meet Beatrice, and you and me can stick together, can't we?'
Colette sighed. Fernald wasn't going to be happy about this little getaway. He would be delighted at the prospect of seeing Fiona, of course, but the minute he learned about the Baudelaire's (or Kit, she supposed, having learnt a lot about his past over the past year) he would surely try to get himself out of it.
'It's Friday evening,' Esmé continued. 'So I figured that since you'll be working at the bank with me Jerome can pick us up, and Fernald can get Faust and meet us there.'
The reminder that Colette was beginning her job at Mulctuary Money Management the next day made butterflies flutter in her stomach. She just didn't know how she was going to cope with it, and she certainly didn't want to disappoint Esmé after she had pulled all the possible strings to get her there in the first place.
'There's just one more little thing,' Esmé said. 'Kit happens to live at the Hotel Denouement.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 8, 2009 20:17:24 GMT -5
An uncomfortable silence lingered on the other end of the line for several moments, until at last Esmé took it upon herself to speak up.
“I’ll understand,” she said, “if you’d rather not go.”
In reality, of course, Esmé had said this for the benefit of herself, as she didn’t want Colette to think she was pushing the contortionist into something. But Esmé honestly didn’t know what she was going to do when she found herself surrounded by a group of people who clearly resented her.
“No,” Colette said at last. “No, Esmé. I’ll go. You’re my dearest friend, after all, and I hate the thought of you spending two whole days at a place you’re not altogether comfortable in.”
Esmé smiled. “Thank you, Colette. You’re a good friend.”
“I’m sure I’ll have no trouble convincing Fernald, especially since he’s never seen the Hotel Denouement before. So I’ll see you tomorrow at Mulctuary Money Management? Nine o’ clock?”
“Yes,” replied Esmé. “Don’t be late.”
“I won’t,” Colette promised. “My main concern is how well I’ll fit in with the rest of your co-workers.”
“Oh, Colette, you don’t have a thing to worry about. You’re going to get along just fine.”
“I hope so. Well, it’s time I go and get Faust ready for bed. Have a pleasant evening, and say hello to Jerome and Emma for me.”
“I will. Goodnight,” Esmé said.
“Goodnight.”
Jerome waited until after Esmé had hung up the telephone, and then asked the question he had been waiting all this time to inquire about: “Well? What did she say?”
“She said she’s going to talk to Fernald,” Esmé replied, “and that it probably won’t take much to convince him to come along to the hotel with us.”
“That’s good,” Jerome said. “It’ll be a comfort to me knowing you’ll have a friend with you.”
“You mean because that way I won’t be the only one under suspicion?”
Jerome looked shocked. “Darling, that isn’t what I—”
Esmé held up a slim, pale hand, and her husband quieted at once. “It’s O.K.,” she said, and walked over to the couch to sit with him. Resting one hand on his shoulder, she laid her head on his chest. “I know you’re worried for me, Jerome, but I promise you that I’ll be fine for the duration of our upcoming weekend.”
The billionaire looked down at the woman snuggling up to him. The scar from the time she had cut herself with one of his razorblades was still visible on the arm attached to the hand that had slipped down a few inches and was now resting on his stomach.
“I know, sweetheart,” Jerome said, and very gently stroked his wife’s pink scar with one chubby finger. She looked up. “But it does absolutely nothing to limit my concern for you.”
He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and then pulled her in for a kiss. It lasted for nearly two whole minutes, until the big grandfather clock at the end of the hallway struck nine.
“We’d better get to bed,” Esmé said. “I have work tomorrow, and you…” She thought a moment, and then smiled. “Well, I need something soft and warm to cuddle with in bed.”
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Post by Jenny on Jan 9, 2009 15:59:51 GMT -5
Jerome grinned, and kissed his wife again on her forehead, before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking off with her to the master bedroom, calling in on Emma on the way past to let her know they were going to bed, and tell her not to be up to late (though such a warning was completely useless: Emma would be unable to sleep now through excitement anyway), and stopping to set his alarm clock so that they wouldn't wake up late and therefore make Colette Widdershins late for work as well as his wife, before he fell into bed and hoped that for the first time in Squalor family history this particular problem might resolve itself without too much trauma.
~
The next morning the alarm clock rang at six o'clock as usual, and Jerome awoke to find Esmé already sitting at her vanity applying her make-up.
'Good morning,' said his wife, and stood and crossed the room to give him his customary morning kiss. Through his bleary eyes he registered that his wife had gotten up early because she was so excited about Colette beginning her job at Mulctuary Money Management that morning coupled with her desperation not to make her friend late for her first day at work.
'I might as well drop you off at work,' Jerome said, and rubbed his eyes wearily. 'I'll be taking Emma to school anyway, and then you won't have to take your car. And besides, it'll be nice to see Colette.'
Esmé nodded distantly, lips slightly parted as she applied a coat of coral-tinted lipstick. 'Alright,' she agreed, knowing fully well that what he meant was that he wanted to explain the situation to Colette Widdershins in a slightly less biased fashion than his wife was going to tell it in. At least it stopped her having to drive, and that nobody would try and stop her on the way out because she had a lift waiting. There were always upsides.
Even though Jerome had woken up an hour or so later than his wife, he was still faster at finding a kitchen and preparing breakfast for the three of them, and was also the quickest one of them to wake Emma up (which was more difficult than it sounded). After finally finishing breakfast and leaving enough time for Emma to get ready, the Squalor's finally found their way into Jerome's Lexus and out of 667 Dark Avenue.
'I'll make sure to tell Beatrice about Faust today,' Emma said from the backseat, fiddling with the strap of her schoolbag. 'I just hope she isn't too hyper when Beatrice meets her.'
'It seems like Beatrice is the type of girl that will get on with almost everyone,' Esmé responded. 'I doublt she'll mind, even if Faust is a bit over exciteable.'
Jerome said nothing. He didn't really like speaking when he drove, just in case. It was distracting, after all, and anything that could possibly endanger his wife or his daughter while he was at the wheel was out of the question.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 9, 2009 16:48:16 GMT -5
After dropping Emma off at Prufrock Preparatory School (Beatrice was standing out front, and the two girls waved to the Squalors as they drove away), Jerome and Esmé headed across town to Mulctuary Money Management.
Upon leaving the penthouse apartment, Esmé’s anxiety had not let up. Every now and then, she would glance over at the Lexus’ digital clock, or at her watch. She sighed when they reached a stoplight, and Jerome took it as an opportunity to reach for her hand.
“My dear,” he said, “everything is going to be fine. You’re simply going to have to learn to relax.”
Although Esmé knew her behavior was silly, she couldn’t seem to dismiss the idea that today was not going to be without its difficulties. “I’m sorry, Jerome,” she said. “I guess I’m just nervous about Colette’s first day as a bank-teller.”
Jerome chuckled. “The last time I saw you this nervous was on Emma’s first day of kindergarten.”
Esmé smiled at the memory, remembering how she had insisted on crouching outside the window for an hour after dropping Emma off, just to make sure she got along with the other children. Esmé had been ready to hurry back inside when one of the children had begun teasing Emma about her single eyebrow and made her cry. But the teacher had taken care of it by ordering the other child into a corner for time out, and afterward Jerome had escorted his slightly tearful wife back to their car.
The Squalors soon pulled into the parking lot of Mulctuary Money Management, and made their way arm in arm over to the building.
There were still a few minutes before the bank opened to the public, and Esmé wasn’t surprised to see Colette sitting at her desk, seemingly preoccupied in arranging and rearranging her collection of knickknacks. But as the Squalors approached her, she stopped what she was doing and looked up.
“Good morning, Colette,” Esmé said. “It’s good to see you’ve arrived bright and early.”
“Yes,” Colette agreed. “Since we only have one car, Fernald figured he could drop me off on his way to the Not So Supermarket.”
“Have you gotten a chance to meet everyone yet?”
Colette was getting ready to respond, when a loud cough broke through the air. She jumped, and nearly fell out of her chair with fright.
“Don’t worry,” Esmé soothed. “It’s only Mr. Poe.”
“I thought it was a bear!” Colette exclaimed. “That awful noise he keeps making would certainly constitute that.”
Esmé couldn’t help but laugh. “Mr. Poe is the Vice-President in Charge of Orphan Affairs. He’s very unstylish, but completely harmless.”
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Post by Jenny on Jan 9, 2009 17:56:46 GMT -5
Colette did look a little shaken, and Jerome felt quite sorry for her. He had tried to get a job once (at a maternity clothing store, with disastrous consequences) and had hated trying to become acquainted with his colleagues. He had always been very, very shy, and he thought that this was perhaps something Esmé struggled to understand, because she had never struggled to get along with the people she worked with. He had a horrible feeling that Esmé might be less sympathetic than might have been useful to Colette if she had trouble settling in.
'I haven't really met a lot of them yet,' Colette said, and motioned with her left hand to the other early-arrivers at the bank. 'Nobody's said hello yet, so I don't want to just go over and interrupt whatever they're----'
And before she could finish, Esmé had called over several people she knew to introduce Colette to them. Colette had never felt more on display or more inadequate. How did Esmé manage to command people like that? Colette supposed it was a skill she just did not have.
'This is Colette,' said Esmé, and a blonde woman with short hair held out a hand for Colette to shake. Her palms were a little sweaty, which this other woman's weren't, and Colette felt a little embarrassed about that as well.
'I'm Ellinore Connelly,' the other woman resonded. She was a little older than Esmé and Colette, and looked a little too stern to be friendly. She gave Colette a tight-lipped smile, and then quickly removed her hand from Colette's clammy grasp and turned to start a conversation with Esmé instead. Jerome offered a comforting smile. 'You'll be OK,' he assured, even though he knew no such thing. Colette didn't have any experience in this area, and he had no idea the kind of pressures that were involved. All he knew was his wife worked very, very hard, and Colette was likely going to have to do the same, even if she wasn't in so advanced a position.
Colette laughed nervously. 'Maybe,' she answered. 'Or at least I hope so.'
After Fernald had been demoted, it was all she needed to be fired..
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 10, 2009 13:04:37 GMT -5
While Esmé became involved in her own conversation with Ellinore Connolly, Jerome chose to continue his with Colette.
“Esmé and I are looking forward to this weekend,” he said. “It’ll be nice to spend some time with you and your family again, though thankfully this time we won’t have any dangers to deal with.”
“Fernald and I have decided to wait until Friday to tell Faust the news,” Colette said. “If she finds out now, then she’ll just become overexcited.”
Jerome laughed, and glanced back over his shoulder at his wife and her co-worker.
“No, no, no,” Esmé was saying. “Yellow stripes were in last month. This month, blue is what’s in!”
The billionaire rolled his eyes and turned back to Colette, smiling. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he joked.
“Just as long I know what I’m doing,” she said, “then I can handle anything.”
“I admire your attitude, Colette, and it’s much more than I can say for myself. I could never handle a job in which I had to deal with large groups of people all day long.”
Colette nodded, though her face betrayed the fact that she was painfully unsure. She had never been very skilled when it came to being around too many people at once, and the closer the clock’s hand got to nine, the more nervous she became. But she was determined to do the best she could at her new job, and hope that would be enough.
“I want to thank you and Fernald,” Jerome went on, “for agreeing to join my family and me at the Hotel Denouement. I know it won’t exactly be the easiest of experiences for you, but we really do appreciate it. Particularly Esmé.”
“It’ll be much easier for Fernald than it will be for me,” Colette admitted, “because he wasn’t there. But I know that Esmé would do the same for me, and that makes it all worth it. The thought of how the Baudelaires will react when they see her does trouble me, and I want to be there to make sure she doesn’t do anything foolish.”
Both Colette and Jerome looked back over in the direction of Esmé and Ellinore. They had been joined at some point by three other women, and apparently one of them had said something funny, because all of them were finding it difficult to contain their laughter.
Jerome looked at his watch. “I should probably go say goodbye to Esmé and then get going,” he said. “It’s almost nine o’ clock.”
Colette nodded at him, but her tension was evident in her expression. Jerome gave her a confident smile, and then turned away.
Very carefully and timidly, he began to approach the group of women, jumping back in fright when one of them laughed too loudly.
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Post by Jenny on Jan 10, 2009 13:42:32 GMT -5
[Aww ] Colette might have laughed at Jerome's terror in front of the group of women had she not felt exactly the same way confronted with the prospect of socializing with them all day. Luckily, Jerome eventually resorted to coughing loudly, and his wife spun round to face him without him having to go too near the group of women that he was frightened of. 'Have a good day,' he said, and before he could do anything else his wife had wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips in front of all those people. He blushed hopelessly, but he couldn't help but be pleased inwardly; it was a lovely comparison compared to the times she wouldn't have even stood next to him in public during the first six months of their marriage. And then Jerome Squalor left, and Colette was left with the prospect of sitting awkwardly on her own or attempting to join the group of women in front of her. Esmé glanced over at her, and sort of beckoned her over, but in that moment Colette didn't move. It wasn't as simple as that. What if they didn't want to talk to her? What if she didn't fit in with Esmé and her wealthy friends? Colette felt a little ashamed, looking down at her scuffed low heels, that she hadn't had the money to buy herself any clothes that would have at least made her look like one of them. Eventually she took a deep breath and scuttled over to Esmé's side. She reminded herself of Faust, a little, and she almost didn't recognize the way she was behaving. She was never this skittish--it was usually Fernald that had trouble explaining about his hooks, or starting a conversation. Why was this happening to her now, when she needed to be normal? 'Hi,' she said awkwardly, and the five women fell silent. They had all been laughing, and Esmé had to pause to elegantly dab at her eyes before saying anything. 'This is Colette Widdershins,' she said eventually, and Colette shyly smiled. 'She's a friend of mine. It's her first day here.' Everyone nodded, and then Ellinore Connelly spoke. 'So, Colette,' she said casually. 'Where were you working before you decided to come here?' Esmé cringed a little, inwardly, and Colette froze. How could she explain to a group of high-flying business women that she'd done nothing but perform as a contortionist for a circus, and that she was only at Mulctuary Money Management because Esmé had pulled all the strings to get her in?
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 10, 2009 14:38:55 GMT -5
Luckily for Colette, Esmé recognized her friend’s uneasiness, and took it upon herself to speak up.
“Colette was working as a receptionist,” Esmé said briskly, “down on Wall-Street.”
“Wall-Street!” Ellinore Connolly exclaimed, and her tone caused the contortionist to jump. “How exciting! I’ll bet you rubbed elbows with some of the wealthiest people in the city.”
Colette nodded, her eyes focused on the pearl-white carpet. She knew that Esmé had only been trying to make her feel more comfortable, but the contortionist felt her anxiety rise a fraction higher at the possibility of having to lie just to be accepted.
“So, tell me,” Ellinore Connolly went on, her eyes completely focused on Colette as she spoke. “Who are some of the people you became acquainted with while working on Wall-Street?”
One look at Colette made Esmé realize what a terrible mistake she’d just made. She knew her friend would never be able to lie herself out of this alone, and so once more Esmé acted as the narrator.
“Well, there’s Nolan Richards,” she said, “who owns a chain of grocery stores. Then there’s Matilda Kelley, who owns her own law firm. And then there’s—”
Esmé was forced to cut her list of wealthy people short when the front doors of the bank opened, and a combination of employees and co-workers shuffled in. The women all hurried to their stations, and Esmé was about to do the same when she looked back at Colette. She was standing with her fingers knotted together and her eyes focused on the floor.
“Colette,” Esmé said gently, “do you know where you’re supposed to be?”
Colette looked up. “My desk?” she asked.
Esmé shook her head. “No, no.” Still, her smile was gentle, and she pointed across the room. “You’re supposed to be behind that counter over there, see?”
Colette followed Esmé’s long-nailed finger. “Oh.”
“Here,” Esmé said, tightening her hand on Colette’s shoulder as if she was a young child the financial advisor was afraid might stray from her. “I’ll walk you over and show you what to do in order to get started.”
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Post by Jenny on Jan 10, 2009 15:25:10 GMT -5
Colette felt a bit embarrassed that she needed Esmé to walk her through things like a child. She couldn't imagine a time when Esmé had been the newest person at Mulctuary Money Management, even though she knew it must have happened. But even if it had been imaginable, it wouldn't have been anything like this. Esmé was incredibly sociable, and wouldn't have had any trouble doing the mundane tasks Colette was being asked to do.
'You're working here,' Esmé said, and Colette couldn't help but think it didn't look as comfortable as her desk. Two men and another woman were seated around the seat she would be expected to fill, and only turned for a second to acknowledge her. 'This is what I used to do when I started at the bank,' Esmé continued, unaware of Colette's intimidation. 'It's not that hard. All you'll have to do is talk to people--' Colette could have burst into tears on the spot. '--and then look them up in the database--' There was a computer involved? How was she supposed to know how to use that? '--And then either give them their money, or give them their cheque, or whatever else they ask you for.'
Colette was so overcome by the amount of questions she had to ask that she managed to get out none of them. She simply said nothing, and sat down where Esmé had indicated.
'I'm sure you won't have any trouble,' Esmé said, and maybe that was what worried Coloette the most out of anything: that Esmé had found the job so easy, obviously, and had moved up so much since doing it. Would she think her completely stupid if she couldn't do it so well?
'OK,' said Colette shakily. 'But--But what if they give me money?'
Esmé looked a little surprised for a second that she'd even asked the question. 'Well,' she said patiently, and blamed herself really for not explaining properly. 'Then you put it into their account, presumably.'
'But---'
'---I'm sure you'll pick it up as you go along,' Esmé said less-than-comfortingly. 'It'll take you until your lunch break to get used to it, I guess. Then you'll be alright in the afternoon.'
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