Did I Shave my Legs for This?

I bought these new heels, did my nails
Had my hair done just right
I thought this new dress was a sure bet
As I head for the door I turn around to be sure
Did I shave my legs for this? – Deana Carter

 

 

“Beatrix!” The matronly darling of New York society, Bitsy Thornhill, gave Trixie air kisses and held out her hands, grasping both of Trixie’s and giving them a squeeze.  “Beatrix, you sweet darling!  You did make it to my benefit.  I don’t believe you’ve met my husband.  This is William Thornhill.” 

Trixie smiled politely as she shook his hand and murmured her full name.  Of course, William Jefferson Thornhill III was on her list as the President and CEO of Control & Venture.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thornhill.”

“Likewise,” he told her formally.  “Bitsy tells me you have just moved back to New York from Chicago.”

“Yes, sir. In fact, just this week.  I finally got back in town on Monday.”

“Beatrix is working with Grace Wheeler and her son James on the benefit for their new project, the school for disadvantaged and orphan boys.” Bitsy continued to babble animatedly about Jim’s school, Trixie’s venture into New York society, and any inane topic that popped into her stylishly-coiffed head, while Trixie stood and kept a smile pasted on her face. 

Trixie took the opportunity to size up William Thornhill.  Quite the opposite of his wife, he was much more sedate, standing by quietly while his wife chattered on about the evening’s event.   He certainly doesn’t look like he would have much patience with brainless blondes!

 “… We just can’t wait for the school to be open.  Beatrix, are you here tonight with James?”

Trixie shook her head, realizing she needed to answer a question, one that she had only half-heard.  “I haven’t had an opportunity to speak with Ji—James since I returned to New York.” Trixie renewed her smile and a tap on the shoulder rescued her from further explanations.  Turning, Trixie stared in surprise at her savior.

“Ben Riker!” she exclaimed.  “I had no idea you were planning to be here tonight.” Honey’s handsome cousin was the recipient of her first genuine smile of the evening; she was delighted to see a familiar face.

Ben smoothly reminded the Thornhills who he was.  “Would you excuse us for a few moments?” he asked politely.  “I haven’t seen Beatrix in years, and we have quite a bit to catch up on.”  Ben had used her formal name just to needle her, not realizing the joke was on him since she was using the formerly hated moniker these days.

Bitsy beamed as the young people walked away from her, giving them both a studied look.   She turned to her husband.  “Oh, Billy – do you think there is a romance brewing between those two?”  She didn’t even take a breath to allow him a chance to answer.  “Of course, I was certain that Grace implied that her son was interested in Beatrix – they were certainly friendly enough during the meeting they both attended at Grace’s penthouse.  Oh, well, all we can do is leave them alone to see.  Ben is Grace’s only nephew, after all.  Perhaps he and James are close.  We’ll just have to wait and see, but I would love to see something develop between James and our Mitsy.  Grace’s son is simply divine.  He has the most wonderful manners.”

“Manners don’t say what kind of a man he is,” William Thornhill answered gruffly.  “Mitsy needs someone who’s responsible and will take care of her, make sure the family fortune remains intact.  I still think she should consider Emerson.  He’s a good man.”

“Billy!” Bitsy was horrified.  “Emerson is twenty years older than Mitsy!  How can you suggest such a thing!  Our Mitsy needs someone who’s still young enough to share some fun times with her before she settles down and gives us grandchildren.”  Mitsy paused, and her eyes took on a far-away look.  “James and Mitsy would give us beautiful grandchildren.”

Trixie and Ben would have hooted uproariously together, had they been aware of the conversation between Bitsy and Billy Thornhill.  Blissfully unaware that Bitsy had paired them up, Ben and Trixie spent a few moments catching up on each other’s lives.  Ben had not heard that Trixie had left her job at the Central Investigative Bureau.  Trixie learned that Ben worked at a prestigious New York Law Firm working hard to gain experience as a trial lawyer.  After they shared a laugh at being on opposite sides of the law, Ben admitted that someone requested an introduction to meet her.

“What do you mean?”  Trixie frowned glancing around the room.   It was crowded, but not unbearably so.  The waiters remained unobtrusive, and the music played softly enough not to be annoying to the numerous people standing around making polite conversation.  Trixie noticed that very few of the people in attendance seemed to be having a good time.  If these society people would just realize how wrong these benefits are, it would be a lot more fun.  They should wear blue jeans and sweatshirts to these things with a nice pair of well-worn loafers they could kick off when the dancing started.  Everyone would be so much happier to be here.  Not to mention, some music that rocked. Trixie shifted her weight slightly.  Her three-and-a-half inch heeled Jimmy Choo pumps were making her miserable.

“A friend, or more correctly an associate of mine at the firm, pointed you out,” Ben admitted reluctantly.  “He commented that he wished he knew someone who could introduce him.  When you turned around and I recognized you, I told him that I could probably oblige.”  A familiar impish grin crossed his face as he completed his admission to Trixie.

Trixie couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth. “I’d be more than a little wary to meet a colleague of yours.  Please tell me he’s not an old fraternity buddy.” 

“Remember Trixie, I said he was an associate, not a friend,” Ben warned, as they walked across the room. 

His tone was enough to make her look sharply at him before nodding thoughtfully.   That’s an unusual distinction coming from Benjamin Riker.  “Okay,” she hedged, “but please remember when you introduce me that I’d rather you called me Beatrix.  Only my friends call me Trixie, and since he’s not your friend, I kind of doubt he’ll end up being mine.” 

Ben laughed. “No wonder you didn’t tear into me for calling you Beatrix in front of the Thornhills.  When did you get so formal?”  He made an unobtrusive but keener study of the petite blonde-haired woman, wondering how someone who had hated the name Beatrix ten years earlier was now almost adamant that he use it.

“Working,” she explained.  “The Bureau loves to use last names, and Belden is as good as any.  For some reason, when I entered the workplace, no one would take me seriously, when I used my nickname.  The only agent I came across that was worse off than me was an agent named Bambi.  Unfortunately, for her it wasn’t a nickname.  Suddenly, Beatrix didn’t seem so bad.”

Ben nodded in agreement.  “Compared to Bambi, well face it; there is no comparison to Bambi!  Besides, there’s nothing wrong with Beatrix.  You were the only one who hated that name, anyway.  We only used it when we wanted to get a rise out of you.”

They took another half-dozen steps across the elegant ballroom before Ben stopped her with a slight touch on her arm; he gave an almost imperceptible nod towards the handsome, dark-haired man standing there with a martini in his hand. 

“Beatrix, I’d like to introduce you to a colleague of mine, Charles Emerson Prescott IV.  Charlie, this is an old friend of the family, Beatrix Belden.  Beatrix is a native of New York and is currently working to open her own business with my cousin, Madeleine, at the first of the year.”

Trixie, noting that Ben did not refer to Honey by her nickname, extended her hand in a welcoming gesture towards the dark-eyed man.   “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charles.”

“Charlie, please.  I’m delighted to meet such a charming young woman as yourself, someone who actually claims to know Ben here and will still refer to him as a friend.”  His clipped, formal voice belied his friendly words, as his eyes seemed to take in everything about her, sizing her up as if she were a potential witness for one of his cases.

Trixie’s instinctive reaction was an immediate wariness to Charlie.  She was unsure if it were his undeniably handsome good looks, his slender but clearly fit build, or his height – a tad on the short side compared to most of the men she knew.

Unfortunately, now that Ben had made the introduction, he saw someone else across the room that he wanted to speak with off-the-record about a problem with one of his cases.  He shot Trixie an apologetic look, reluctant to leave her in the clutches of Charlie the Chump.  However, he still made his excuse to leave the two of them, his ambition prevailing over chivalry.

Trixie sighed inwardly.  I cannot complain.  This is what the job is about these days.  It still beats Kansas, but cripes, this guy’s name sounds familiar.  Prescott, Prescott.  Think, Belden!  You should know the connection.    Pasting a fake smile on her face, she proceeded with innocuous questions to learn more about him. 

Trixie listened and the more she did so, the more she believed her initial instincts were on the mark.  Known for being a bit of a chump at times, Charlie immediately believed Trixie was impressed with his good looks, wealth, and charm.  He talked and chatted about himself, never pausing to ask about her.  Trixie noticed he stood stiffly as he spoke, with his right hand stuck in his pocket and his left holding his martini. 

It finally hit her several minutes into the conversation.  Trixie realized that Charles was the son of the Prescott family, owners and operators of the well-known, family controlled, Eastway-Berkley, Incorporated.  Eastway-Berkley, a holding company of numerous wholly-owned subsidiaries, was into everything from athletic apparel to window fabrication.  More importantly, it was one of the ten corporations on her list.   I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection immediately.  Trixie was irritated with herself for not realizing sooner. Ben Riker just did me the biggest favor in the world.  Charlie’s father is someone I definitely need to meet and check out. Too bad, he doesn’t work in the family business.

Trixie listened closely to Charlie’s prattle, learning where he went to school, where he worked, where he lived and most important of all, where his father was.  The payoff for her diligent listening finally came when Charlie asked her a question.

“So are you busy tomorrow night?” The dark eyebrows waggled and there was a hint of suggestion in his tone.

Trixie bit back a smart retort and answered in a sweet voice.  “I’m not sure.  What did you have in mind?”

 

 

Trixie’s notes varied, so in the end she gave Diana a call and asked her what was the appropriate dress for a night at the opera.

“You’re going to the Opera?” Diana asked in disbelief.  Her violet eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “What’s the deal?  Did Jim get drafted because of some potential benefactor?”

“No,” Trixie answered calmly.  “I’ve got a date with a guy Ben Riker introduced me to last night at Bitsy’s big fundraiser -- you know the one where she wants to make sure every girl in Ethiopia gets a Prada bag on her thirteenth birthday.”  Trixie rolled her eyes, but even Di and Mart had managed to escape Bitsy’s most recent fundraising event.

“Who do you have a date with?” Di demanded a hint of impatience in her tone as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  She had to attend a meeting scheduled to begin in minutes, but this was important stuff.  She knew it was highly unlikely that Jim Frayne had asked Trixie to attend the opera with him. 

“Charles Prescott the fourth.” Trixie was deliberately flippant.  She knew not to make a big deal out of the date or Diana would know something was up.  “His father’s involved in a number of separate business ventures.  If he would just throw some business our way for only one of his companies, we’d be thrilled.”

Di, however, was less fixated on the purpose of the date than on the fact that it was occurring at all. “You have a date to the Opera with Charlie the Chump Prescott?”  Diana sat down.  She couldn’t have been more shocked if Trixie had told her she was taking a quick business trip to Mars.

“Diana!” Trixie inflected the appropriate amount of censure into her voice.  “I can’t believe you call him that.  He seems nice enough.  I told you I was going to be networking for business.  His parents will be there and it’s an opportunity I can’t afford to miss.”

Diana gave an unladylike snort.  “If you’re not calling him that before your date is over, I’ll be amazed.  Everyone knows that Charlie is nothing more than a frivolous playboy.  He works because his father makes him.  If Mart and I hadn’t already made plans tonight, I’d drag him to the Opera just so we could watch you.  That will be the best show in town tonight!”

“Diana Lynch Belden!” Trixie wailed.  “Will you please just tell me what to wear to the opera tonight?  I don’t want to look out of place.  Please.” 

Diana sighed.  Something is definitely up. She glanced at her watch and winced.  There’s no time to pump her for details now. “I’ll tell you if you promise to meet us for brunch tomorrow.  You haven’t seen Mart or Dan since you’ve been back, and we all like to go to brunch on Sunday whenever we can.”

“It’s a deal.  Just tell me where to meet you.  Now, what do I wear?”

 

 

Less than one hour after Charlie had picked her up, Trixie was cursing Ben Riker, her elegant dress and her date.  Thanks to Di’s guidance and her training, she easily found an appropriate dress in her closet.  The dark navy color wasn’t the black Diana suggested, but her mentor purchased it during her European training stint lending validity to her decision the dress would work for the opera.

Trixie didn’t think twice about the dress until she realized exactly how much Charlie the Chump deserved his nickname.  What is his problem?  His hands keep drifting into places they have no business being!  Dang, it’s going to be a long night.  Think, Belden… figure out how to get through this disaster of a date.

It hit her then.  It was so simple she almost laughed.  Her mission was simple – obtain a meeting with the head of Prescott Industries.  The rest of the date would be incidental to her operation.  She was working, and at the end of the day, the more difficult the assignment, the more she would be determined to pull it off!

Trixie’s mind immediately clicked into work mode.  It was easy enough.  Charlie continued talking about what seemed to be his favorite subject – Charlie.  Trixie only had to nod and listen, paying careful attention whenever she heard his father’s name mentioned.

To her surprise, the opera was bearable and she secretly admitted that while it couldn’t compare to the latest James Bond in terms of thrills, there was a certain emotional tension than ran through the performance of Eugene Onegin.  The tension built until the duel at the end of Act II, and left Trixie smiling at intermission.

When Charlie’s parents joined them in the foyer, she inwardly leaped for joy.  There had been no time to speak to them prior to the start of the opera, even though they had sat right next to the attractive couple. 

“Are you enjoying the opera, Beatrix?” Miriam “Mimi” Prescott exuded a graciousness that encouraged Trixie to engage her in conversation.

“Yes, I am. That duel was very dramatic.  My heart was pounding.  It was really an excellent display of swordsmanship, don’t you think?”  Trixie’s blue eyes twinkled with pleasure.  The intensity of the swordfight had been thrilling.

Mimi was flabbergasted.  “But… Kholokov is such an excellent baritone!”

Charles Emerson Prescott III laughed.  Trixie’s comments had piqued his interest in his son’s date.  “Come on, Mimi.  Beatrix is like Charlie and me.  We enjoy the action.  You have to admit, this director does an admirable job substituting the swords for the gunplay in the traditional version.  It makes the act much more climactic.”

“Absolutely was I was thinking, Mr. Prescott!” Trixie assured him, her eyes twinkling as she recognized a kindred spirit.  “I haven’t been fortunate enough to attend many operas of this quality, having been in Chicago for so long.”  She wondered if she were evading the truth.  The fact was she hadn’t attended any operas in Chicago, much less New York.

“Please call me Chuck, and of course you’ve already met Mimi.”

“You must be so relieved to finally be back in New York!” Mimi Prescott could not imagine living anywhere else.  The arts and opportunities she could participate in kept her happy.  Moreover, as long as Mimi was happy, Chuck Prescott was happy.

The conversation evolved into an invitation for the younger couple to join Charlie’s parents for coffee and dessert after the opera. 

The third and final act included more baritone and less action than the previous act.  Trixie was ready to leave and was amazed at how quickly the Prescott limousine appeared and whisked them to Harry’s Italian Bar.  Within moments of arriving at the European-styled pub, the maître d’ greeted the Prescotts by name.  He escorted them to a secluded table and then effortlessly adjusted the reservation from two to four by quickly adding two chairs to the café table and unobtrusively slipping two rolled napkins into place. 

Trixie noticed that Mimi Prescott passed on the elaborate dessert tray and selected black coffee.  She sighed, inwardly wondering if she should as well, and decided on an elaborate mocha coffee instead.  She knew she had made the wrong choice when Mimi raised an eyebrow and murmured, “How do you stay so fit,dear?”

Pasting on a friendly smile, Trixie elected to go with the truth.  “I’m still stuck in my training routine from my work with the CIB.”

Her answer got Chuck Prescott’s attention.  He leaned back and smiled at her; she was obviously bright.  “So tell me, Beatrix -- what does a beautiful woman do working for the CIB?  Was it exciting, like the swordplay between Lensky and Yevgeny tonight, or were you riding a desk?” 

Trixie paused a brief moment to formulate her answer.  “I’m not sure what beautiful women did, but I was an investigative agent,” she began. “Our assignments were varied -- bank fraud, security reviews, terrorist threats.” She shrugged as she forced herself not to play with the edges of her napkin.  “We’d do some of everything, but nothing as exciting as what we saw tonight.  We were required to stay in shape and I haven’t gotten out of the habit.”

“Am I right then, that you’ve left the government?” Chuck asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.  “What are you doing now?”

Before Trixie could answer, the waiter arrived.  She smiled in anticipation as he sat the steaming mug of cappuccino in front of her. Laced with liqueur and whipped cream it looked delicious.  Trixie waited a half beat, noting when everyone else started to eat and drink, before taking a quick, fortifying sip of the delicious beverage.  She took a breath and gave Chuck Prescott her standard spiel, making sure he knew she was looking for business now.     

The business tycoon was curious.  “When will you be ready to take on clients?” he asked, thinking about how he had been pushing Charlie to get his law firm to pay more attention to cyber security.

“It just depends.  For security work, I’ve already started.  I’m doing all the security planning and design for the work on Jim Frayne’s school.  You might be familiar with the foundation he’s establishing.  His parents, Matthew and Grace Wheeler, have been instrumental in helping him set it up.  I’m working with Grace on the gala now.  I hope we can count on your support.  It’s a wonderful cause.”

Mimi Prescott nodded.  Grace Wheeler’s work with the as-yet-unnamed foundation was familiar to most of the women in her circle.  “Yes, Grace sponsors a small fundraising lunch each month at her home in Westchester County.  I attended last month, it was quite delightful.” 

“I certainly hope you’ll be there again,” Trixie commented, realizing she would probably be attending next month’s event herself.  “It would be a pleasure to see you there.”

“How do you know Matthew Wheeler?” Chuck Prescott inquired.  “Hopefully you didn’t meet him while you were doing a fraud investigation.”

Trixie laughed.“Oh no! My family lives next door to the Wheelers’ home in Sleepyside.   Their daughter Madeleine and I attended school together.  In fact, she’s my future partner in the business.

Mimi took notice immediately, her mind going to the many large estates in the area, not once thinking of the cozy farmhouse since she had never noticed its existence.  If Beatrix is that close to the Wheeler family, then she’s certainly marriage material for Charlie.  Goodness, I hope he’s interested in her and hasn’t been a complete boor this evening.  He’s hardly said a word since we’ve been here, but the boy probably talked her ears off at dinner.  They would make us very beautiful grandchildren.”

Trixie would have crawled under the table had she realized that Mimi was sizing her up as a potential future daughter-in-law.  Later, when Charlie was escorting her home, she had to admit the evening had been a success.   At least I can report that I’ve made contact with the owners of Eastway-Berkley.  Mimi can be a little hard to take, but Chuck was interesting and insightful.  I could tell he was interested, but he’ll never fall for the dumb blonde routine!

A short time later, Trixie sighed in relief as she leaned against the closed door to her apartment.  Glancing around the quiet apartment, she was happy that it had been an easy matter to send Charlie on his way.  “This assignment is definitely work!” she muttered to herself.

Looking at the clock, she sighed again, knowing she still had to make the necessary notes in her case file.  She also needed to develop a rudimentary database in which to key the information she had learned, but that undertaking would have to wait.  It was too late and she needed to be rested and sharp to start that particular task.

Finally, at a very late hour -- or rather a very early hour -- Trixie tumbled into bed.  Diana would have shuddered to see the designer dress in a crumpled pile on the floor of Trixie’s room.  However, Trixie was too exhausted to do anything else.  Fending off Charlie the Chump was hard work.  One yawn and she was sound asleep.