Macy's Department Store ….
"Mommy, Mommy, look at this one, she looks just like me!" A little girl of about six years old with big, blue eyes and waist length blonde hair tugged on her mother's wool coat as Meg strolled down the toy aisle, trying to find a birthday gift for her friend, Patricia's, two year old daughter.
"Oh, she does, Alyssa." The woman, in her late twenties, knelt down beside the little girl and held the doll up beside her daughter. Chattering away, the little girl's eyes danced with excitement. Meg stopped pushing her cart and watched the mother and daughter talking for a minute. The little girl threw her arms around her mother's neck when she agreed to buy the moderately priced doll. A lump formed in Meg's throat as she turned away, pretending to read the label of a Winnie the Pooh plush teddy bear.
"I knew I should have sent Turnbull to buy a gift." Meg lamented as she felt a tear in the corner of her eye.
"May I help you, Dear?" An older woman asked, a store vest over her white blouse, large, round glasses perched on her nose beneath gray curls. Meg whirled around and greeted the store employee with her best, diplomatic smile.
"I'm trying to decide on a gift for a two year old." Meg explained, holding up Winnie the Pooh.
"Oh, where is the little tyke, with their father I suppose." The kindly, older lady put her hands together as she smiled.
"No, she doesn't have a father." Meg mentally slapped herself. The older woman's eyes widened.
"What I meant was, the child isn't mine, I don't have children, it's for a college friend's daughter." Meg amended, her face feeling hot.
"Well, that's too bad, a young thing like you should have two or three by now." The older woman walked over to the toddler section and took a red, Fisher-Price three wheeler off the shelf. It was only a few inches off the ground and had big, fat tires on it.
"It's not from a lack of wanting to, I assure you." Meg thought to herself as she stepped down the aisle behind the woman.
"This should be a good gift, the little darling can play with it in the house or outside when the weather cooperates." The older woman suggested. Meg balked at the price, it was a good ten percent more than she'd budgeted, but she also felt desperate to get out of the toy section. Hanging on every peg were reminders of something she felt she'd never have. Quickly, she took the three wheeler and placed it in her cart, thanking the woman as she helped her carry it.
"You're welcome, Dear, I'm sure the little tyke will love it." The older woman pushed her glasses back onto her nose with the back of her hand. Meg walked away, the lump still in her throat but a feeling of emptiness growing in her stomach. She paid for the three wheeler and had it gift wrapped before she left.
When the lady Mountie arrived at the consulate a short while later she still felt heavyhearted. She wanted to feel a little one's arms around her neck and to hear them call her 'Mommy'.
"Good afternoon, Inspector Thatcher, I have your correspondence right here, I've taken the liberty of sorting the mail according to sender, with what you call, 'junk mail', in the back of the stack, although I'm not certain where this Roaman's catalog would fall." Constable Turnbull, a bright and shining annoyance Meg tried not to kill on a daily basis greeted her.
"Just give me the mail, Turnbull." Meg sighed, frowning up at him. With a nod, he laid the large stack of mail in her hand and took a step backward.
"Thank you, Turnbull, dismissed." Meg shooed him away as she made her way to her office.
"May I carry that package for you, Sir?" Turnbull offered. With a tired sigh, Meg gave him the gift then turned to open her office door.
"Thank you kindly, Turnbull, that's all." Meg smiled but it didn't reach her dark eyes. She wanted to be alone for a while.
"Ah, Inspector Thatcher, there you are." Constable Benton Fraser's voice shattered Meg's dreams of being alone. It's not that she didn't enjoy his company, on the contrary, she wanted to spend everyday near him. Like a baby, the handsome Mountie felt like something Meg couldn't have.
"Yes, Constable Fraser, come in." Meg sat down at her chair and began sorting through her mail for herself. Turnbull set the gift bag on a chair and left the office.
"Inspector, I'm afraid my 744-8 form is incorrect, I realized the mistake after I'd already turned it in for the week." Fraser began, a new 744-8 form in hand. Meg knew him well enough to know there was probably a self-written reprimand form attached to it.
"I'll take care of it, Fraser." She held out her hand for the form without looking up.
"Don't you wish to look at the form to make certain it's correct?" Fraser asked, laying the paper in her hand carefully.
"I'm certain you've double checked the new form, Fraser, just don't do it again, understood?" Meg met his gaze, her tone dry.
"Yes, Sir." With a nod, the Mountie waited for a dismissal.
"Was there something else, Fraser?" Meg demanded.
"No, Sir, I was just leaving." Benton turned on his boot heel and left the office.
After he closed the door, Meg laid her head on her desk and let out a long, forced breath. She felt frustrated and unhappy. There was only one person who could lift her spirits and that was her. Still, the lady Mountie felt like she'd lost traction in her personal life. Her professional life wasn't going much better. Her superior officers in Ottawa were always breathing down her neck about Fraser's extracurricular activities, despite the good press he brought to the Canadian government.
"I've got to do something different, something has to change." Meg whispered to herself as she tried to pull herself out of the doldrums and get in on the pile of paperwork awaiting her from Fraser's latest investigation into the theft of a semi truck full of cocaine hidden in frozen chicken.
While trying to apprehend the driver, the semi had jack knifed and ended up in a ditch, slicing through a dozen trees. Four heavy tow truck were required to pull the trailer out of the ditch and then the contents had spilled out all over the shoulder of the road. It had taken road crews four days to clear the wreckage.
Thursday Afternoon ….
Meg carried the shopping bag with her friend's gift in it into a crowded community center room decorated with balloons and streamers. It was a large room with standard issue tile floors and white walls. Four folding tables, each eight feet long, made a horse shoe shape dining area while a fifth set off to the side. Cake, ice cream and refreshments were spread out along the festive table cloth.
"Hello, Meg, come on in." A petite, blonde woman with short hair and a sweater freshly stained with peas greeted her warmly.
"Hello, Patricia, how are you?" Meg pointed to the peas on her shirt cuff but didn't say anything.
"Oh, good I guess, I got four hours of sleep some time this morning." The petite woman shrugged and threw her hands up. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you kindly." Meg responded automatically. Looking around the room, Meg counted ten toddlers and their mothers. She felt out of place.
"Just set that down at the end of the cake table, we were just getting ready to serve then sing, have a seat and join the fun." Patricia indicated an assortment of other gifts already on the table.
"I'm sorry, Patricia, but I can't stay, I have a meeting across town with the Swedish Ambassador's assistant." Meg begged off, praying Patricia wouldn't mind. After the fiasco at Macy's the day before, she didn't think she could stand being around so many happy mothers and their babies, all full of giggles and soft, round cheeks.
"That's too bad, Meg, I wish you could stay so we could catch up. It's been hard to carve out the time for some girl talk lately, what with Denver and Mattie always needing my attention, the housework and my job." Patricia beamed proudly. She had a full, busy, kinda crazy life and she loved every minute of it.
"Yes, I'd love to stay and catch up but you know the nature of the diplomatic beast." Meg's understanding smile didn't reach her dark eyes.
"Have fun." Patricia rolled her eyes, a darling cherub pulling on her pant leg for attention.
"Mommy, I'm fursty." The girl said, hiding behind her mother when she noticed Meg watching.
"Just a second, Mattie." Patricia pulled the pink and purple clad girl up onto her hip and turned to Meg.
"I'll call you later, Patricia." The lady Mountie waved at the two year old and walked back out the double glass door of the community center.
Meg walked down the sidewalk, pulling on her red coat's collar to dodge the forceful breeze that made Chicago the Windy City. She wiped away tears that had gathered in her eyes with her free hand.
"Mommy, I'm fursty." Kept ringing in her ears. Meg envied Patricia her crazy, busy life so much she almost hated her. She didn't know what made them so different. Patricia had been an ambitious, hardworking attorney for a high power law firm for nearly a decade in Ottawa. She and Meg had become friends while Meg was a rookie officer and Patricia was a lowly clerk. They'd both wanted to shatter the glass ceiling while wearing Channel and silk.
Now Patricia was wearing discount store sweaters stained with peas and had a thirty year mortgage here in Chicago. Meg worked sixty hours at the consulate every week while Patricia worked nonstop between the customs office and her family. Still, the lady Mountie envied her friend both the stress and the satisfaction of family life.
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