Puttin' on the Ritz finding a woman of quality

cicero (58)in #fiction • 8 years ago

Like the worn, but expensive furniture in my New York Apartment, I had seen better days, but also like the furniture, I had come from quality and that would serve me in the end.

As I recall that time, I have to smile at what Ibsen called a life-lie— a deliberate untruth people tell themselves to help them muddle through.

Muddle was a good descriptor for the way I dealt with things then.

I might also add pride into the mix too.

It was two years since Cybil left and to tell the truth, I couldn’t blame her—not really.

Urban Life, a guide to high living and fine dining, had closed its doors and I, the great Blair Barrington, bon vivant, gourmand and celebrated food critic was out of work.

Cybil put up with me for the first year, but when a new position didn’t materialize and my moods grew increasingly foul, she departed in a whirlwind of anger and mutual recriminations.

She left me with the apartment, the Bentley and a drawer full of unpaid bills.

Still, it wasn’t her fault and I missed her terribly—missed her humour, her beauty and the ease with which she schmoozed with society’s elite.

If she were here now, I told myself, I’d be employed again, if only because Cybil would have made a way for me with her upscale friends.

But unfortunately, left to my own devices, my stubborn pride kept me unemployed and struggling to keep up appearances.

I rarely drove the Bentley, never dined out and studiously eluded friends, most of whom I owed money. That Friday, I had been in Manhattan diligently avoiding old haunts when I was caught unawares.

“Blair, you old dog, how are you?”

It was Harry Stevens, the former owner of Urban Life and the last person in the world I wanted to see.

“Harry, how good to see you.”

I lied. It wasn’t good to see him, at least, not in my present state of privation. How I wished I could brag about some new assignment or project I was pursuing.

Ah well, I’d put up a brave front.

Harry grabbed my hand and squeezed tight. “Sorry to hear about you and Cybil. How are you getting by on your own?”

“Oh, muddling through, I suppose.”

Now, that was the truth, said in such a way that Harry would think me totally aloof …and completely in control.

“I can’t believe the coincidence,” he went on, “Tom Brady and I were just talking about you. Have you heard?

We’re starting up the mag again and your old position is yours, if you’ve got a mind to come back and put up with us again.”

I could hardly believe my ears. My money had all but run out and I wasn’t sure I could even make the month’s rent. I wanted so badly to shout and dance for joy, but my pride wouldn’t let me.

“Starting up again?” I said, “That’s great Harry. As for my old job—well, I’d have to take that under consideration—it is short notice…”

Harry held up a hand to interrupt. “I’ll double your salary and give you two months in advance. C’mon Blair—it’ll be grand again. What do you say?”

I pretended to hedge, and then finally relented. “I say you’ve persuaded me, Harry. You’ve got a deal.”

He grabbed hold my hand, pumping it vigorously.

“Brilliant. We’ll start in the morning, you old devil—breakfast at Cezanne’s—you can critique their breakfast offerings—What do you say to about nine?”

I told him I’d be there and watched him walk away rejoicing—of course, his joy was nothing compared to my relief and happiness.

It was an honest feeling I’d never openly express.

All in all, I guess I came through all right in the end. I managed to regain my position and self-respect—at double the salary! Life was grand, or so I thought.

I thought I finally made it back into the high life.

I didn’t see Cybil in the doorway watching and smiling.

For years I believed I alone achieved victory and vindicated myself.

It was only today after her funeral that Harry finally told me the truth.

“She was a good woman, Blair—she really loved you. I thought you should know.”

I nodded.

When he told me what she did, I was touched by her gesture, but to my shame, I must admit I was disappointed too.

I thought I made it on my own, without help—without her help, to be precise.

Harry had been walking away, but something made him stop, turn around and come back again.

“I wanted to tell you something else, Blair—something that Cybil said that I thought you should know. "

"When I asked her why she was doing this for you despite the way you treated her, she said to me—'Blair has his faults but he's still a man of quality. I just thought you should know that'.”

All the way home I thought about what Cybil told Harry.

I was ashamed—all those years I mocked her and her upscale friends, but in the end, the only real person of quality finally shone through.

Rest in peace, my Love.