Girls Just Want to Have Fun

When the working day is done
Oh girls they wanna have fun
Oh girls they wanna have fun

 

This is it!  Trixie knew the moment she walked in the door she had found her new home.  It wasn’t a loft, which was her preference, but the open floor plan and the view out the window were perfectly perfect.  At least she wouldn’t need to spend her days in the city staring at a brick wall.  Lisa Chin, a real-estate agent recommended by Mr. Wheeler, chattered on about the services offered.  Trixie heard nothing as she struggled to open the door onto the terrace.  There would be enough room for a planter, some chairs and a table.  With the right sized furniture, a group of four could easily eat breakfast there.  The agent chattered on, and suddenly Trixie’s ears pricked up.  “You said it was Internet ready?” she asked.

“Oh yes, pets are allowed as well,” she added.

“This is it,” she said softly, her eyes taking in the well-designed kitchen.  It was a bit small for entertaining but she should be able manage.  The entire apartment seemed to be designed for her:  an alcove for an office, room for dining and entertaining, even a guest room.  She loved it.

“Do you want to look at the other properties?” Lisa asked her.

“No, this is the one.  What do we do now?”

Lisa Chin smiled.  She had enjoyed the time she spent with Beatrix Belden, finding her to be chic, yet polite.  A rarity among many of the clientele with which she dealt in her job. 

“Let’s go to lunch, I’ll walk you through it.”

“How do you know Matthew Wheeler?” Lisa Chin asked, already amazed that Beatrix hadn’t ordered a salad for lunch.  Lisa worked with all types of people and prided herself on reading them.  Beatrix was the first young woman she had worked with that didn’t seem to subsist on bottled water and two leaves of lettuce to maintain a size two stick figure.  She studied Beatrix carefully, and while she wasn’t a size two, she was definitely very fit.

“I grew up next door to him,” Trixie replied after swallowing her creamy soup.

“You know, you’re the first socialite I’ve ever met that actually eats carbs!” Lisa informed her compulsively.  This young woman had that effect on her; she was confiding as much about herself as she was learning about her new client.

“Carbs? What do you mean?” Trixie asked, puzzled.

“Bread, cream of potato soup, and a chicken salad sandwich – I’ve never met a girl like you that ate that much food for lunch.”

“Oh, well I work out regularly,” Trixie responded, hoping she wasn’t going to have to change how she ate to manage this case.  The charm school had said nothing about not eating certain foods, although they did teach her how to eat soup without slurping or spilling it all down her front.  Dip, spoon away, carry --  do not bend your neck!  We never stop sitting up straight! Trixie would have sworn if the old bat teaching her had had a stick she would have been swatted with it.

“I think it’s great!” Lisa reassured her.  “You know, you’re not like other girls, you can actually talk about things besides the A, B, Cs.”

Trixie set her spoon down as she had been taught, making sure to leave a little soup in the bottom of the bowl.  “What do you mean the A, B, Cs?” she asked.

“Oh, you know, the in-crowd around here falls into one of two categories.  They either talk about nothing but appearances, breeding, and class or the other group.”

“What other group?” Trixie asked.

“You know,” Lisa’s voice dropped to a whisper, “affairs, blow-jobs and Cosmo.”

Trixie almost choked on her water.  “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Lisa quickly said, “I guess you you’ll be thinking class is something I’m totally lacking!”

“No, it’s not that.  I just never heard those expressions before,” Trixie admitted.

“Don’t worry; I don’t picture you belonging in either of those groups.  You seem like you’re going to do your own thing,” Lisa answered with a flippant tone.  “What kinds of things interest you?”

“I’m not sure,” Trixie answered.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, what category would you like to be in?”

“I guess I’ll make my own,” she answered with a shrug, knowing she could never fit in either of the groups Lisa had mentioned to her.

“Oh – like what?”

“How about activities, business, and charity?” Trixie replied with a small smile.

Lisa laughed.  “See what I mean?  You’re definitely what this town needs.  Once Mitsy Thornhill and Kitty Buchanan get a load of your style, they’ll be clawing to stay on top of the elite power ranking.”

“Lisa, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Trixie said pleasantly.  “I don’t know anyone named Mitsy or Kitty.”

“No,but they’ll know you,” she smiled as she shook her head at the waiter with the dessert tray.

It would have been a tough call as to who was more shocked when Beatrix selected a piece of triple chocolate cake -- Lisa Chin or the dessert waiter.  The waiter hadn’t had a young woman select a dessert off his tray in months.

 

 

Wow, this is at least thirty pages! Trixie couldn’t believe the extensive plans Mrs. Wheeler had already made for Jim’s fundraiser.  She closed the notebook she had been given and sighed, looking around the living room carefully.  The décor had been updated, but the apartment was still the same.  Somehow it managed to be both elegant and comfortable. Grace was holding a planning meeting for Jim’s fundraiser at the Wheeler’s penthouse apartment. Trixie had arrived early at Mrs. Wheeler’s request.

“Still look familiar?”

Trixie turned, surprised to find Jim watching her from the doorway.

“Yes, it does,” Trixie answered, adding in surprise, “I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”

“You don’t think I’m going to let Mother do all the planning, do you?” he asked as he crossed the room to sit down next to her.

“Well, of course you wouldn’t,” Trixie smiled.

Jim had been studying her for a few minutes.  He still couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different about his special girl.  She certainly looked better than ever.  Maybe it’s the skirt, he mused.  She doesn’t usually wear skirts.  

Trixie was wearing a rich brown suede skirt, one of the latest from a popular designer that had been packed in her suitcase when she left the school.  The cream turtleneck and brown suede jacket topped the ensemble and flattered Trixie’s athletic figure.  The skirt was shorter than anything she would have worn, but the matching tights seemed to provide enough coverage to give her confidence.  She was rapidly getting used to wearing heels, although today’s ensemble called for chunky platform shoes.

“You’re early,” he said.

“Your mother wanted some time to review the current plans with me, before the rest of the committee arrived.”

“Oh, I’m sure Mother will team you up with someone,” Jim asked.  “Maybe Di, or her mother.”

“What? Do you mean Diana will be here?” she asked in a panic.

“Well, sure.  She volunteered to help back at Christmas, don’t you…” Jim smacked his forehead. “Of course you don’t remember.  You weren’t here. Once she found out the benefit was going to be held at the Guggenheim museum, I couldn’t have stopped her from helping.”

“It’s at the Guggenheim?”

“Yep. Didn’t Mother tell you?  Holding it in such a famous landmark, and a newer one at that, she thinks we’ll attract both old money and new money.  Di’s excited because she thinks it’s hip and fresh.”

“Wow, it sounds like I’ve got a lot to learn,” Trixie lamented.  “I’ve been reading all the plans and I still didn’t pick up on that fact that it was going to be at the Guggenheim.  I didn’t see Diana’s name anywhere and…”

“You’ll do fine, Trix.” Jim’s reassuring voice interrupted her as he covered her hand with his own.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll learn it all in plenty of time.  Just let me know if you have any questions.”

Right and how am I going to explain to Diana that I’m in town and haven’t called her? Trixie fretted. 

“Are you okay, Trixie?” he asked, noting her sudden unease.

Trixie took a deep breath; only total and complete honesty would help her now.  “Jim, I’ve had so much on my mind lately, I forgot to call Di and let her know I was in town.  You don’t think she’s going to be hurt I haven’t called her to do something?”

“Come on, Trix.  She’s one of your oldest friends.  Of course she’ll understand.  If you like we could all get together one night and hang-out.  Maybe catch a movie, grab something to eat?”

“I think that would be fun,” Trixie answered with a tentative smile.

“I’ll arrange it,” he promised.  Then he paused to stare at her curiously. “You know, Trix, you seem different.”

She went rigid.  “What do you mean?” she managed.

He shrugged, “There’s this air about you, a confidence that I don’t remember from before.”

“Are you trying to nicely tell me that I seem older now?” Trixie demanded, grinning at him.

He gave her a familiar grin, “Yeah, that’s it.  You seem like a dotty old woman.  Next thing we know, you’ll have fourteen cats and be collecting bread bags!”

“My new apartment does allow pets,” she teased in return.

“Hey,you found one already?” he asked.

“Thanks to your Dad.”  This was neutral territory.  She immediately launched into a detailed description of the place she had found.

 

 

“So,what brings a federal agent to the big city?” Diana asked, slipping up behind her friend.

“Diana!” Trixie turned for a hug.  “I was just telling Jim I felt like a jerk for not calling you before now.”

“Good, keep feeling that way!” Diana joked, sharing a wink with Jim.  “Do we have time to catch-up now?”

Jim perused the room, “Not much, maybe if you can manage to sit next to each other.  I’ll go find out from Mother when she plans to get started.”

“Trixie, you look fantastic,” Di checked out her friend with her eagle eyes.  “What on earth possessed you to purchase such a fab ensemble?”

Trixie shrugged, “I had to have some new clothes if I’m going to network in the heart of the fashion industry.  This one was comfortable enough.”

“Hmm, so why are you hobnobbing in the heart of the fashion industry?  I didn’t realize haute couture was of interest to our homeland security interests.  Are we exporting too much fashion?”  Di cocked her head to one side as she studied Trixie.  The skirt and top might be comfortable enough, but her friend would never willingly wear the stylish shoes.

Trixie shook her head, “I’m on vacation, maybe permanently.”

“What?” Di asked, looking at her friend askance.  “Is this your decision?”

Trixie nodded, “Look, Di.  I don’t want all these people hearing my tale of woe.  Maybe we could get coffee after.”

“Okay, Trixie, but you’ve got some serious explaining to do.” 

Jim rejoined them then with a quick shake of his head.  “Mother said we’re getting started now.  She also told me to tell you two for heaven’s sake to please split up, otherwise neither one of you will pay attention.”

Di and Trixie exchanged guilty looks before giggling.  “Okay, I’ll save Trixie this time and go sit by the formidable Mrs. Warren Mortimer, affectionately known to all and sundry as BeBe.”  She turned to leave before winking at Jim yet again.  “Protect her this time, Frayne.  She may think terrorists are scary, but she’s yet to associate with New York’s society matrons.”

“You don’t think we should just toss her to the she-cats and be done with it?” he joked in return.

“Let’s give her a get-out-of-jail-free card for her first outing,” Diana suggested.  “But after today, she’ll have to sink or swim on her own.”

“You really want me to believe this roomful of elegant and stylish women are scary?” Trixie asked Jim in surprise.

“Just wait.  Come on, you can sit next to me,” Jim said softly as he pulled her towards his mother.  His tone spurred the return of that delightful shiver she had felt when he picked her up at the airport.  “I promise not to throw you to the cats.”

Trixie nodded, looking around the crowded room.  They all seem fairly harmless.

 

 

Grace Wheeler collapsed on the comfortable but elegant sectional sofa as the door closed behind the last of her guests.  “I thought they’d never leave,” she muttered slipping off her shoes.

“Mother,” Jim reproved.  “You’re going to scare Trixie off the project.”

“If Trixie thinks she wants to move about in New York society for the next year, then she needs to see first-hand what she’s getting into.  I saw you and Diana blocking the worst of it.” Grace smiled at her son.  She didn’t say that she and Carol Lynch had done plenty of blocking themselves.  It was easier for Grace to let the women assume that the young blonde was likely the future Mrs. James Winthrop Frayne the second, thus assuring they would not disparage Grace’s future daughter-in-law.  Carol had picked up on those undercurrents and followed her lead.  Jim and Trixie were both blissfully unaware of their maneuvering.

Diana, who had spent the meeting sandwiched between the formidable Mrs. Mortimer and the snobby Kitty Buchanan, felt she had more than done her part to shield Trixie.

“Why do you do all this?” Trixie asked, still not understanding how or why Grace Wheeler bothered to go through the hassle.

“Jim’s school is just as important to us as it is to him,” she replied easily.  “A fundraiser like this will help insure financial stability for the school for years.”

“But what about Jim’s trust fund -- isn’t that enough?” She asked bewildered.  “You can’t possibly raise more than that as the benefit, can you?”

“Oh, Trixie, there’s more potential than you can imagine!” Carol Lynch sank down on the sofa next to her friend and ideal.  As the result of the friendship between their daughters, Grace Wheeler had helped her traverse these rough waters as well.  “We’re planning on raising millions through endowments and donations as the result of this benefit.   We want to convince people and companies to make this one of their pet projects.  To fund the library, the educational wing, the dorms – can’t you just imagine – The Mortimer Library.” 

“Not really,” Trixie answered honestly.  “Why would they give that kind of money to Jim’s school?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jim teased as he pulled her curl.

Trixie blushed, “That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled.

Mrs. Wheeler smiled.  “They do get a nice tax deduction for one thing; charitable donations are important to their overall financial health.  Corporations fund pet charitable projects for a variety of reasons, and education is an area appealing to many of them.  If you sell computers, for example, you want students learning on your computers.  Carol and I have been working for several years to convince these women that this is a worthwhile project.  They’re the top leaders in society and for the most part, their husbands or families control several of the top privately-owned corporations.  The fact that the school is located in New York and close to the city helps us as well.  They feel as if their money is helping out close to home.”

“I had no idea.  I thought most of the fundraisers that went on in the city were for questionable causes, like propagating the cause for faux fur.”

Mrs. Lynch and Mrs. Wheeler shared a laugh.  “Most of these women are discerning enough to recognize real needs.  There is some of what you’re talking about, but we made a decision three years ago that we would only be chasing after the real money.”

“You’ve been working this for three years?” Trixie was dumbfounded at this revelation.

“When Jim first graduated from college and he still had his dream of a school, Carol and I put our heads together and started planting seeds -- just enough to create interest and excitement, of course.  We think it’ll pay off with some rather substantial donations.  Of course, we’ve had a few early donors, mostly the women on the committee.  Mrs. Mortimer gave a donation from her personal pet projects fund, but we’re hoping her husband will agree to have their company underwrite a major portion of the building.”

“I never imagined this was so involved,” Trixie said, sitting back in surprise.

“Come on, Trixie.  I don’t have all day.  I have to be back to the museum by three.  Let’s get that coffee.”  Diana spoke up.  “If you have more questions, maybe I can answer them.”

“Do you participate in most of these fundraising activities?” Trixie asked.

“No, silly.  I’m only doing this one because it’s for Jim’s school.  Mummy and Daddy drag me to a few of their pet projects from time to time.  I don’t usually mind the ones related to art,” she admitted.  “Come on, I’m buying.  Unless Jim is coming with us and then I’ll do the honorable thing and let him buy.”

“Sorry, ladies.  I’ve got a meeting with my architect shortly.  He has a couple of design changes he wants me to look at that might save us some substantial money in the construction phase.”  Jim shook his head in regret.

 

 

“Double-shot, half-caf, skinny,” Diana gave her order to the barista and turned to look at Trixie.  “Go ahead, Trix.  I said it was my treat.”

Trixie stared in bewilderment at the menu in front of her.  She was familiar with coffee, she had poured enough of the sludge into her system, but Di seemed to speak an entirely different language than the simple choice of cream and sugar.  “I’ll have the same,” she said deciding she couldn’t go wrong mimicking Di.  She made a mental note to brush up on coffee lingo.  Unfortunately, her training had skimmed details about the trendy coffee bar scene.

Di settled the tab and the girls moved to a corner table, where they could talk privately.

“Okay, spill it, Trixie.  What’s this about a permanent vacation?”

Trixie took a deep breath and attempted to give one of the best performances of her life.

Diana listened and, unlike her parents or the Wheelers, surprisingly said nothing until Trixie finished the spiel.  She watched Trixie carefully.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Trixie finally asked.

Di nodded. “I’m thinking.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of their coffee order.  Trixie wanted to stomp her foot, as Di doctored her cup further, not speaking until she had finished stirring more artificial sweetener into her cup.  “Trix, what did Honey say about this plan of yours?” she asked finally.

“I haven’t talked to Honey yet,” Trixie admitted.

“Why on earth not?” Di demanded.

“Because she’s happy in Boston.  She loves her job in the district attorney’s office there.  She has no idea they want me to move to Kansas.”

“Trixie, what’s really going on?” Diana implored, her hand moving to grab Trixie’s free hand.

“What … what do you mean?” Trixie stammered in reply.

“You show up in the city, willingly participating in a planning meeting for a society fundraiser, announce to me that you’ve just found an apartment you plan to purchase in one of the toniest sections of the city, you’re wearing a designer skirt and while it seems to be cute and comfortable, those exclusive platform shoes had to set you back four hundred dollars. You’re acting more like me than me!  Now what gives?”

Trixie took a deep breath.  Here goes. 

“Look,Di.  I’m tired of working.  I’ve been working since I left to go to college; every summer was spent earning my scholarship.  Now, the stupid government wants me to move to Kansas and I don’t want to go.  Why is everyone so suspicious because I want to be closer to my friends and maybe enjoy life for a little while?  Do you think I’m going to dress like a tomboy for the rest of my life?” Trixie couldn’t keep the testiness from her tone, not matter how hard she tried.  Only she knew her irritation was directed towards her bosses at the agency, not her friends.

“I thought you loved your job,” Di said innocently, peering into her cup.

Trixie sighed.  “I did, until now.  Don’t you like your job?”

“You know I do, the Met is a wonderful place to work.” Di gushed.  All of the Bob-Whites knew Di could talk about art for hours.  “Of course, I’m only a lowly assistant and everything, but just being around all those wonderful exhibits … I adore it.”

“Would you love your job if you worked for the Wichita Museum of Art?” Trixie asked pointedly.

Diana looked at her friend and sighed, “Probably not as much,” she admitted.

“Yeah, well that’s how I feel and to top it all off there wouldn’t be a Bob-White within 1500 miles of me.”

“Okay, so if I buy your story, and I’m not saying that I do,” Diana warned, “what’s with not talking to Honey?”

Trixie sighed, if only her boss knew how hard this was!  “Did you see Honey at Thanksgiving?” she asked quietly.

“Of course, and again at Christmas.  She looks great.”

“She’s totally happy, Di.  She loves Boston and she’s so in love with Brian she makes me sick.  I get the feeling they’re enjoying being in love away from the prying eyes of friends and family.  Honey isn’t going to want to leave Boston until Brian’s ready.”

“Are you trying to convince me that what’s going on here is a timing issue?” Diana asked incredulously. 

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” Di spoke slowly, “I think I’m getting it.  You’re saying that your job situation sucks.  The timing with starting a business sucks and your new wardrobe, well…” Diana waved her hands airily, her violet eyes twinkled.  “Will it hurt your feelings if I say it’s the hardest part of your story to swallow?”

“Do you not think that you and Honey could have finally rubbed off on me?” Trixie asked pointedly.

“No,” Diana said fervently.  “You couldn’t convince me of that in a million years.”

“Look, Di – I finally can afford to dress a little nicer.  Some of it is your influence and also, Mrs. Wheeler’s influence,” Trixie answered immediately.  “Everyone’s told me if I’m going to network, then I have to look the part.”

“Hmmm. Everyone told you that Italian shoes and designer handbags were required to network in New York?”

“Not exactly,” Trixie answered carefully, “it was just easier to go to one of those places that put it all together for you than to try and figure it out for myself.” She hoped that Diana wouldn’t think to ask exactly where it was she went.  “Why shouldn’t I dress like a girl instead of a tomboy?” The defensive tone crept into her voice, despite her efforts to sound calm.

“Okay, Trixie Belden – oh, excuse me Beatrix,” Di’s eyes twinkled.  “What’s with being introduced to everyone today as Beatrix?”

“I’ve always gone by Beatrix professionally,” she insisted.  “Trixie sounds too much like a dog’s name or maybe one of those girls on the 1-900 calls.”

Diana giggled.  “Yes, I can hear you now.” She dropped her voice and employed a sultry, seductive tone. “Hello big boy, tell Trixie what it is you want me to do to you tonight.”

Trixie giggled as well, more relieved that Diana seemed to be abandoning her questions.

“When do you go back to Chicago?” Diana asked, glancing at her watch and wincing.

“I left the date open,” Trixie admitted.  “I’m not sure if I’m going to take one week or two.  The boss said it was okay either way.”

“Well, I’m going to suggest that before you make a final decision that you talk to Honey first.  Boston isn’t that far away.  Go see her.”

“What about Mart?” she asked nervously.

“What about him?” Di asked, her eyes twinkling.  “He’s still cute, cuddly and a fabulous husband!”

Trixie rolled her eyes.  “That is too much information!  Are you going to tell him?”

“I’m going to tell him you were at the planning meeting for Jim’s fundraiser,” Diana replied.

“Is that all?” Trixie asked chewing her lower lip.

“No, I’m also going to tell him we had coffee after.”  Di grinned wickedly.

“That’s all you’re going to tell him?”

“No, I think I’ll also let it slip that you only had eyes for Jim.”

“Diana – you wouldn’t!” Trixie protested.

“Yep, I would and I am.  Look Trixie, if you’re really going to quit your job and move, then Mart needs to hear it from you.  It’s your story to tell.  If I tell him about Jim, it’ll distract him from wondering why you were in the city for a silly planning meeting with a bunch of society women.”

Trixie sighed; mentally cursing her bosses at the Agency.  “Look, Di, what will it take to convince you I’m serious about this?”

Di’s violet eyes widened.  “Oh that’s easy -- just convince Honey, Mart and Dan.”