"Arnstein Accounting. How may I direct your call?"
"Arnstein Accounting. How may I help you this morning?"
There wasn't a lot of variety to my job. I had been excited when I was chosen to be the receptionist, but when I found out I was chosen more for my looks than my abilities, well, that took the luster off the rose. "Answer the phone, greet customers and look pretty" was Mr. Arnstein, Jr.'s job description. To add insult to injury, I hadn't been very popular in the typing pool to begin with, but the promotion pretty much ruined any chance I had of making friends. See, I'd only been working there for six months, and the girls with more seniority were pretty ticked off. Still, I tried to do my best. I had been second in my class at Miss Murgatroyd's School of Secretarial Skills, and I had hopes of working my way into the Executive office.
"Hey, Baby Cakes, wanna go somewhere after work?" Mr. Spooler, one of the junior accountants was always trying to get me to go out. I knew his type. No thanks.
"Sorry, Mr. Spooler. I have other plans," I answered primly.
"Suit yourself, Miss Priss," Mr. Spooler sniffed as he went past on his way back to his office. My, he certainly spent a lot of time socializing. Not that it was any of my business. Still, one couldn't help but notice. I knew that by noticing, I was adding to my un-popularity, but that was just how I was brought up.
"Oh, Miss Monroe, I didn't know you were working for the Arnsteins," a smooth voice murmured across the front desk. I looked up to see one of the most handsome men I'd ever laid eyes on. Before I even realized it, one hand had flown up to fluff my hair. He noticed, of course and smirked just a little.
"Brantley Crawford, here to see Mr. Arnstein, Jr.," he said.
"Do you have an appointment?" I pulled open the big calendar. There were no appointments anywhere for this afternoon.
"Oh, we're old school chums. He'll see me," Mr. Crawford said, leaning across the desk to look at the empty page with me. "Just give him a call, Miss, uh Prytle." He squinted at my name plaque. Like most people, he got the pronunciation wrong.
"It's pronounced Prittle with a short 'i'," I informed Mr. Crawford before moving on to his request. "I'm not really supposed to bother Mr. Arnstein, Jr. or Sr. if they don't have an appointment," I demurred. Actually, only Mr. Arnstein, Sr. had strict do-not-disturb rules. I hadn't even met him yet. I hadn't even met Mrs. Withem, his Executive Secretary, but one of the other girls in the typing pool had pointed her out to me. She just oozed competence. Mrs. Withem, that is. The girl who pointed her out, Patty Logan, oozed cheap perfume and spearmint gum.
"I promise, Arnie will be delighted to know I'm here," Mr. Crawford assured me. "If he isn't, I will personally take the blame."
I dialed Mr. Arnstein, Jr.'s extension. To my mild annoyance, he actually did sound excited to hear that Mr. Crawford was visiting. "I'll be right down," he promised.
I passed the information back to Mr. Crawford and went back to sitting at attention, waiting for another guest or phone call. I had thought there might be other work for me to do, but Mr. Arnstein, Jr. said he didn't want the receptionist to be distracted from her primary duties. I spent a lot of time being bored, and the boredom was far more distracting that some worthwhile work would have been.
Mr. Arnstein, Jr. appeared, and he and Mr. Crawford went off down the hall laughing. When they returned a little while later, Mr. Crawford stopped at my desk.
"Miss Pritle, I hear you are an excellent receptionist. I appreciate you bending the rules for me this afternoon. As a reward, I would love to take you out for an early dinner after work. I know a lovely place not far from here."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't date customers." I didn't. For one thing, it was a company rule, but I wouldn't have done it anyway.
"I would consider it a personal favor if you'd allow my dear friend to treat you tonight," Mr. Arnstein put in. "Brantley told me how he had to strong-arm you into calling me. I appreciate your consideration of my privacy, but any time Mr. Crawford shows up, you may call me immediately."
Oh dear, a personal favor for my boss. Well, what harm was there in an early dinner?
"All right, Mr. Crawford. I'll let you take me to dinner this evening," I said.
"She gets off at five," Mr. Arnstein said.
"Oh, but I need time to go home and change," I said.
"You look fine," Mr. Crawford said, barely looking at me. Then, I guess realizing that he's been abrupt, he turned back and added. "You look lovely in your trim little suit. The place I have in mind is pretty casual, and this way we can keep it early as promised."
I agreed, and we finalized the plans. He and Mr. Arnstein shook hands. I went back to looking pretty and answering the phone. At my two o'clock break, Essie Davis, one of the girls from the typing pool, came in to relieve me. As I was getting ready to go powder my nose, she touched my arm.
"The grape vine says Brantley Crawford asked you out." I wondered how she had found out. I suppose by grape vine she meant gossip.
"I'm going as a favor to Mr. Arnstein, Jr.," I told her. She motioned me to bend closer.
"Be very careful, Penny. A lot of us have gone out with Mr. Crawford as a special favor to Mr. Arnstein, Jr. . We call Brantley the Italian because he's got Roman hands."
"I'm sure I can take care of myself if he gets fresh," I said. From what I'd heard about Essie, she probably let those hands roam wherever they wanted.
"I'm just letting you know," Essie said. As I walked away, I thought I heard her add, "I wish someone had warned me."
Brantley Crawford showed up right at five to pick me up. The restaurant was only two blocks away. Well, it was really more of a cocktail lounge. I wasn't very comfortable, and Mr. Crawford noticed.
"I thought we would come for drinks first," he said. "I wasn't able to get reservations for dinner until six."
Drinks! I'd never touched a single drop of alcohol, not even champagne at a wedding. I didn't intend to start tonight. When the waitress came by, I asked for a ginger ale. Mr. Crawford laughed.
"Shirley, the lady will have a Brandy Alexander. Heavy on the Alexander and light on the brandy."
"I don't drink alcohol," I told him firmly.
"Nonsense, nonsense," Mr. Crawford protested. "You like chocolate, right? Every young woman I know loves chocolate. You'll love this drink. If you don't, you can have your ginger ale."
Shirley (how did Mr. Crawford know her name anyway?) brought the drinks, and I took a tiny sip of mine. Mmmmm. It really was good. And if it didn't have much brandy, it was probably okay to drink. Before I knew it, the first drink was finished, and before I could protest, there was a second one in front of me. Then whoops! that one was gone, too, and number three was in its place. When Mr. Crawford said it was time to go to dinner, I stood up and whole room seemed to spin. Lucky for me he was right there to put an arm around me and keep me steady.
"A little food is just what you need," he promised me. "I know a short cut. We'll be there in no time."
I just let him guide me. I hardly noticed when we left the street and went into an alley. I started to notice when he suddenly shoved me up against a wall. And I really noticed when those Roman hands started snaking up under my shirt as he thrust his tongue down my throat. I tried to fight him off, but I was too tipsy. I couldn't even get my mouth away from him to scream. Then something wonderful and terrible happened. Those three Brandy Alexander's were back in my mouth. It didn't take long for Brantley Crawford to realize what had happened, and he threw me away from him as I threw up. Oh, dear, this suit had to be dry cleaned, and these were my best pumps. I tried to lean over far enough to keep from getting splashed.
"Arnie was right. You are such a tight-assed bitch that you'll do anything to keep from having a little fun with a guy. Damn I hate to let the guy win a bet." As I was trying to digest what that meant, Mr. Crawford had grabbed me again. This time there was no kissing or fondling. He was pulling up my skirt with one hand and unzipping his pants with the other. I let out a scream and he smacked me in the mouth.
He let go of my skirt to hit me, and I managed to bring a knee up and into his crotch. He let out a yell and sank to his knees. I started to run for the mouth of the alley.
A couple was in the entry to the alley. As I started past, the man grabbed me.
"Are you okay, Miss?" he asked. The woman kept staring into the alley. With her flaming red hair she looked a little like Rita Hayworth.
"I, I," I couldn't talk. I was gasping for air. The man and woman exchanged a look, and she started into the darkness.
"No, no, he's, he's a bad, no, don't go in there," I wheezed at her, but she didn't even look back.
"She can handle herself," the man promised. "Victoria is nobody's fool."
I was trying to get my breath. I couldn't see Victoria any more. The man kept hold of me.
"What's your name, my dear?" he asked as I got myself under control.
"Penny. Penny Pritle," I told him.
"I am James. Stay here with me a moment while Victoria checks on your, ah, suitor."
Suddenly I heard a horrible, horrible scream followed by a thud. I looked at my savior, but he didn't seem concerned. And I guess he had no reason to be because Victoria came sauntering out of the alley, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her coat.
"Why haven't you eaten, James?" she purred. She was looking at me as if I was the entrée. I tried to slip away from James, but his grip was stronger than I'd realized.
"I like this one. Look at her. Even in the midst of being ravished, every hair is in place. And she smells of puke, but there's not a drop on her. I'd like to see what happens to her. We've never changed anyone so…proper before." James was watching me with his head cocked. What did he mean by change? What did Victoria mean by eaten? I was feeling more and more frightened.
Then suddenly James let go of me. He took my right hand lifted it to his mouth as if to kiss it. Instead, I felt a searing pain. I jerked my hand back and sank to the ground, aware that I was making an awful noise. I wished I could die, or at least pass out until the pain went away but no luck. James and Victoria just stood there watching me. James was peering at me like a boy torturing a bug; Victoria just looked bored.
"I really don't feel like babysitting tonight, James dear," Victoria finally said. "You can catch up with me later when you're tired of your new toy. And she was gone.
"What have you done to me?" I managed to choke.
"I've…improved you. Welcome to the wonderful world of vampires," James said with a flourish.
James squatted and watched me until the pain finally began to ebb. In its place came a feeling that was somewhere between hunger and thirst but stronger than I had ever felt either of those before. And I became aware of…people. Lots and lots of people. And they smelled so delicious.
But I couldn't eat a person, could I? Little Penny Pritle. Good Methodist girl. Executive secretary hopeful. Animal lover. Vampire?
Before I could give it much consideration, James had me tucked under one arm as if I was a football, and we were running down one alley and then another. Suddenly he stopped. Amid a pile of trash, I saw movement. James reached out with his free hand and before I knew it, there was a bum in his grip. The bum looked at us both with fear. James just laughed. He let go of me and threw the bum into my arms.
I almost acted on instinct. I was so hungry-thirsty, and there was a meal right in my lap. My mouth opened, I moved toward his neck. Then I stopped.
He was crying. Crying and praying. What was I doing? I shoved the man away from me. He recognized a close call when he saw one and hit the ground running. James looked at me as if I was crazy.
"Look, I know he wasn't the cleanest, most appetizing meal around, but we have to keep a fairly low profile. And you must be starving. Bums are easy and plentiful, but not so much that they grow on trees."
"I am starving," I told James. "But I'm not going to eat people. Not even bums. There must be another way." James laughed and shook his head.
"I've heard there are some of our kind who consider themselves to be vegetarians. They only eat animals, but I can't imagine they're ever really satisfied. Besides, what wild animals are you going to find in the city?"
"I'll find something," I promised. "Chicago is a huge city. But no people."
"Well, much as I'd love to watch you try to hold onto your values, I'm bored and hungry. I'm beginning to wish I'd just made a meal of you as we first intended." He stared at me for a moment longer then started to move away. Suddenly he stopped and turned around again.
"Be sure you're home before morning. You don't want to be caught in the sunlight." Then he was gone as if he'd never been there.
I thought about what he'd said: Vegetarian vampires who only ate animals. But I had another idea I wanted to check out. I wasn't too far away from my work neighborhood. The place I needed to go was just back a few blocks. I started walking.
Before long I found it: a blood bank. I had never picked a lock before, but for reason, it came very easily. My senses in general seemed much more acute. I slipped down the halls until I found the refrigerators where they kept the blood. I grabbed a bottle, popped off the lid and put it to my lips.
Yuck. It was flat and dead, worse than a three-day-old cup of coffee with cigarette butts in it. (Unfortunately I had actually once drunk that combination when I had a roommate. I had gone home for my mother's funeral, and when I came home, the apartment was a mess. As I was cleaning up, I sat down my coffee cup and picked up the wrong one. Just the memory made me shudder. That same afternoon I started looking for a studio apartment I could afford on my own.)
Disappointed, I poured out the rest of the blood. There must be something about a living source that was important. I let myself back out. Something in the alley skittered past. A rat. A rat? But one rat wouldn't do it. I was so much hungrier than one rat's worth. Another idea came to me.
I slipped back into the building where the blood bank was located. In the lobby I studied the directory. There was a typing service on the third floor. A typing service meant typists. And typists meant food. I found my way to that office and followed my nose from desk to desk until I found what I wanted. Contraband cookies-a package of stale Lorna Doone's. I felt bad about taking someone's treat, but I needed it worse than she did. Given how well she had it hidden, she probably wasn't supposed to have it anyway..
Back out in the alley, I took a handful of the cookies and broke them then scattered the pieces about. It didn't take long for the first rats to nose their ways in. You might think that if one rat goes squealing to its doom that the others would bolt, but I guess for rats, the lure of stale shortbread is stronger than fear.
After a dozen of the nasty things, some almost as big as a cat, the worst of the hunger was at bay. For dessert I had a pigeon that came to see if the rats had left anything. When I looked at my watch, it was nearly four thirty in the morning. I needed to head home so I wouldn't be caught in the sunlight.
When I got home, I tried to remember everything I had ever heard about vampires. Didn't they sleep in coffins during the day? I didn't have a coffin. I wondered if my tiny closet would work. It would sort of be like an upright coffin. I pushed my clothes aside to make some room. I folded my hands over my chest and shut my eyes. Nothing happened. I didn't fall asleep. I really didn't even feel tired. I came back out and did some cleaning. Then I read for awhile. I worked some crossword puzzles. I was going to have to get some new hobbies.
I had shut all the blinds in my apartment. Well, both of them-it's a very tiny apartment-but there was still a stray ray of sunshine that managed its way into the room. It's difficult to dodge anything in a studio apartment. And the moving sunlight meant that I was constantly having to reassess where the darn sunbeam was and adjust. Finally I was fed up. I wondered exactly what would happen if I was touched by sunlight. Would I burst into flames? Turn into dust? I filled a mixing bowl with water just in case I did burst into flame. I went as close to the sunbeam as I could, then stuck the barest edge of my pinky into the light. It felt…warm. Just like sunlight always had. I moved a little more hand into the light. Something was shimmering, sparkling. Was I wearing jewelry?
No, I was what was shimmering. My skin looked like it was covered with pave diamonds. Exquisite! But I realized why I couldn't be caught outside. It appeared I only sparkled in direct sunlight, so I wondered if I would be safe going out when it was more overcast. And fortunately in Chicago, it's often overcast. I'd have to come up with a reason why I couldn't go to work. I'd read an article once about a person with a severe sensitivity to sunlight. Hopefully they would buy that reason at Arnstein Accounting. It wouldn't be so much of a problem in the cooler months when I could just bundle up a little more. Right now, in the middle of July, a scarf and gloves would look pretty weird.
As long as I was wide awake, I had some things to consider. First was the question of food. I was already starting to feel that awful hungry-thirsty sensation. I have excellent self-control if I do say so myself, so I wasn't too worried, but it would take a LOT of rats and pigeons to keep it under control.
And, yuck, I hated the thought of putting my mouth on those nasty creatures. But what other options did I have?
Okay, I wasn't going to eat people. Or dogs or cats. I thought wildlife was fair game, but there isn't a lot of good-sized wildlife in the middle of Chicago. It would be too dangerous to use the zoos. So for now it seemed like rats and pigeons were the best source, nasty and dirty as they might be.
Well, there was another choice. I knew that some people raised rats and other furry little things as pets. I could raise my own food source and know that it was clean and healthy. On the other hand, I was afraid that I might start to feel like they were my pets, and that would put a crimp in making a meal out of them. So that didn't seem like such a great idea.
The ideal was big game, but there isn't much of that in Chicago. I supposed I could arrange a trip somewhere, but living on my own on a receptionist's pay, I didn't have a lot of extra money for vacations. Or I could move. I could go out west where there was elk and antelope and moose and bears. The problem with that is that I loved Chicago. I'd grown up in Springfield, Illinois and couldn't wait until I finished high school and could move to the city. But if I stayed here, I'd pretty much have to resign myself to a diet of vermin and maybe once every couple of years save up for a vacation somewhere I could hunt.
I sat down and wrote up lists and charts. I like to be organized. I realized I could get a night job as long as I allowed myself enough time to hunt. Unfortunately, with my diet, hunting took a lot of time. Suddenly I realized that the sun had gone down, and I was starving again. I got ready to go.
I was having a pretty good evening when I heard the laughter. I looked up and saw the two vampires from the previous night, James and Victoria, watching me. James was holding a young woman who looked so terrified that she had stopped struggling. I cautiously moved a little closer.
"Look, it's our little friend, Priss Pringle," Victoria said.
"Pritle," I corrected automatically, "Penny Pritle."
"So you really are sticking to the whole vegetarian thing," James said. "How's that working out for you?"
"I'll bet she's oh so hungry," Victoria purred. She reached out and drew a finger gently down the girl's arm, leaving a mark but not quite drawing blood. "I'll bet her willpower is at full throttle seeing this tempting bit of candy."
I moved closer. The girl smelled clean and healthy and delicious under a layer of Tabu and stale smoke . I really did have my willpower at full throttle to keep from making a rush, but I knew that was what James and Victoria were waiting for. I didn't know if they were just trying to get me to eat a person so they could gloat or if there was some bigger trap. I didn't see or hear or smell anyone else, but I intended to be careful. The girl was staring wide-eyed at me as I moved in her direction.
I got a little closer, and James leaned over and licked the girl's face, his eyes never leaving mine. The girl let out a little moan, but she really looked as if she had completely given up. She was dressed in a rather revealing dress, bright red, plunging neckline and much too tight, but she didn't seem like a streetwalker or anything like that. She was very young, with light brown hair and blue eyes. Too much makeup, but I saw that even on the girls in the office these days.
"You want her?" James asked in a sing-songy voice. "You know you do. Yummy yum yum."
"Now, James, she was intended to be our dessert," Victoria whined.
"Well, dear, we have eaten," James chuckled, "and Miss Priss, I mean Pritle, looks famished. I'd love to see her have to admit that she can't really be satisfied with rats and mice."
"I can have her?" I asked in the sweetest tone I could summon. I was so close now that I could almost taste her.
"Just let us watch," James said, holding the girl out and giving her a little shake.
"Not on your life," I thought to myself. I came closer, then grabbed the girl, threw her over my shoulder, and started up the wall of the nearest building.
"Mine!" I snarled down at James and Victoria. I scrambled up as quick as I could, hoping they weren't too serious about watching me eat. I didn't slow down to check. Once I reached the roof, I started running, jumping across each time I got to the edge. The whole time, the girl was just wordlessly sobbing.
The longer I held her, the more tempting she smelled. Would anyone miss her if she just disappeared? Would anyone care? Maybe just one human wouldn't be so bad. Just to see what the fuss was about. "No, Penny Pritle!" I told myself. "You are above that." But the girl smelled so heavenly. And there was something more, something special.
I finally felt like we might be safe from Victoria and James. I sat her down on a rooftop and backed away quickly. She curled into a fetal position, still sobbing. The night breeze carried her scent to me, making my mouth water. She was so helpless, so delicious. How could I resist?
"Talk to me!" I demanded, pacing the edge of the roof away from her. She didn't say anything, just sobbed a little louder.
"If you want to live, talk to me!" I tried again. "Remind me why I won't eat people. Talk to me!"
"Wh-wh-what do you want me to say?" she finally asked in a quavering voice. I looked over at her. She had pulled herself back into a sitting position.
"What's your name? What were you doing out here all alone in the middle of the night?"
"My n-n-name? I-I-I-t's Candy. Candy Rogowski." If my hearing weren't so much better, I'd never have heard her tiny, defeated whisper.
"Candy Rogowski, what were you doing out here in the middle of the night? Don't you know it's dangerous for young girls to be out alone?" Mentally I added, "See what happened to me?"
"I-I-I lost my job. My fiancé has been h-h-helping me out, but I haven't heard from him in days. I w-was out of money. I'm about to be evicted from my apartment. My friend Betty said that I could be an-an 'escort' is what she called it and go out with m-men for money. This was my first night. I was out with a guy from Akron, Ohio named George. He seemed to think that he had bought more than just my company with his twenty dollars. I-I-I wasn't sure how far I should let him to go. Betty told me I might get extra if I was nice to him. We were kissing in the alley, then those two friends of yours showed up. The red-head took my 'date' down the alley, and he didn't come back. Then they saw you."
"Those two aren't friends of mine, not by a long shot. Your fiancé sounds like he needs a lesson in how to treat his future bride," I growled. "What's his name?"
She started to cry again. "Ar-ar-arnie." Her voice dissolved into full-fledged sobbing. Chicago is a big city, but somehow I knew.
"Arnstein?" I added.
"J-j-j-junior," she sniffled.
"How convenient. I happen to know that gentleman. I may pay him a call soon to remind him of his manners and responsibilities," I told Candy.
"You won't hurt him, will you?" she asked.
"That depends on whether he mends his ways," I said. Frankly, I wouldn't mind an excuse to play rough with Mr. Arnstein, Jr. Not after the way he treated me. And Candy. And then I remembered what Essie had told me at break the other day. No, I wouldn't mind a chance to teach Mr. Arnstein, Jr. a few manners. But if he was willing to do right by Candy, I guessed I would let it go. I promised to take her home, and after getting the address, we headed off. She still made my mouth water, but now that I knew her as a person, I could fight back the temptation.
When I got to her apartment building, I dropped her off at the front door. As she dug through her purse for her key, I kept watch to make sure nothing else happened to her. As she was about to get ready to go inside, I tapped her on the shoulder.
"Candy, be careful. There are lots of bad people out there, and I don't think being an 'escort' is a good career, especially not for someone who is going to be a mother."
"A mother?" she gave a nervous giggle. "Oh, not for years and years, I'm sure."
"No, in about eight months as far as I can tell," I told her. "But don't worry. I'll make sure Mr. Arnstein, Jr. takes care of you-one way or another." I left her walking into her building with a shell-shocked expression. I was shocked, too. She seemed like a nice girl at heart. Why did she take such a gamble? of course she thought she was engaged. I felt a sudden pang of regret. I wouldn't have that now, a baby, a husband, a little home in a suburb. Maybe I shouldn't have been such a Miss Priss. Maybe I should have played around more, gone beyond a little closed-mouth kissing with boys. What had I lost? I went home feeling bad. Up til now I'd had too many things to think about to focus on the loss of my humanity, but tonight it weighed heavy on me.
The next day dawned grey and drizzly. Perfect! I dressed for work and headed to Arnstein Accounting right on time. People looked at me oddly. I could see that my skin wasn't doing that pretty sparkle, so I wondered what they saw. Several of my coworkers told me how pretty I looked today. Well, I guess rat blood was good for the complexion maybe.
I knew it would make people even more surprised if I stopped taking my breaks, so at 10:00 when Patty Logan showed up to relieve me, I went to the ladies' room and ran a little water, combed my hair, freshened my lipstick and so forth. As I was walking through the typing pool on my way back to my desk, Mr. Arnstein, Jr. was coming from the opposite direction. I had intended to corner him privately, but he made the first wrong move.
"Well, well, there you are, finally back to work, Miss Pritle. I'm surprised you can still walk. I don't suppose Brantley can. I guess he won the bet and made a woman of you after all." I couldn't believe he said all that in front of all the secretaries. And laughed as if it was just a joke! I was moving before I even realized it. I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
"You're right about one thing. When I left Brantley Crawford, he couldn't walk. That's because I kneed him in the groin and left him crying in an alley. How dare you set me up, set any of us girls up, with that creep when you knew what he had in mind! And it was most ungentlemanly to make a wager of it."
"And another thing. After I let you go, you are going to your office and phone Miss Candy Rogowski and ask her to marry you. And you will insist that you do it as soon as the marriage license can be obtained. And you will treat her with love and respect for the rest of your ratty little life." I lowered my voice for the next part. "And if you don't, I will make you pay in ways you can't even imagine." I started to let him go, but then I figured I might as well go for broke. I raised my voice again. I wanted everyone to hear this.
"Furthermore. You are going to put the word out here that the ladies here are not to be harassed and bothered by the male employees. I am nobody's Baby Cakes. By the way, congratulations on the bundle of joy." I let him go and went back up front to work. As I left, I could hear a smatter of clapping from the typing pool.
I spent the rest of the day expecting to be fired. But the morning and then afternoon passed by with no word. As she was coming back from lunch, Essie Davis came up and gave me a hug and whispered, "Thanks, Penny."
It was almost 5:00 when Mrs. Withem, Executive Secretary to Mr. Arnstein, Sr., came in person to summon me. Well, I had publicly chewed out my boss-and the big boss's son at that, so I didn't expect to get off scot free. I followed Mrs. Withem up to the Executive office.
Mr. Arnstein, Sr. was seated at a large desk. His chair was turned away from me so that he could look out the window that covered almost all of one wall. Mrs. Withem walked in partway with me.
"Mr. Arnstein, Miss Pritle is here," she said, then she left.
For several seconds, Mr. Arnstein said nothing. He didn't turn around either. I was beginning to wonder if he was really there when he spoke.
"Well, Miss Pritle, I hear you read my son the riot act this morning." Oh, my, he had a wonderful voice. Too bad I had to wait to be fired to hear it.
"Mr. Arnstein, he was treating the ladies very disrespectfully," I began.
"Oh, I am well aware of that. It was high time someone put him in his place. If he wasn't my son, I would have fired him long ago."
"Oh," was all I could think of to say. I stood there, waiting, wondering what else Mr. Arnstein might have to say.
"My Executive Secretary, Mrs. Withem, is ready to retire. She's such an excellent secretary that I've been loathe to give her up, but she is quite insistent that she have a chance to enjoy her golden years. That puts me in the position of needing someone bright, organized and efficient to take her place. I've heard good things about you, Miss Pritle. I know you haven't worked here long, but I've been quite impressed. I think you would make an excellent new Executive Secretary."
I didn't know what to say. Executive Secretary? That was my dream job! But, well, now there were complications.
"Mr. Arnstein, I am honored. But you should know. I have recently been afflicted with a sensitivity to sunshine. There may be days when I am unable to come to work." I hated saying it, but I knew I needed to be honest.
"Well, Miss Pritle, I appreciate your honesty. However, as it happens, I also have a sensitivity to sunshine, so we may be able work something out. I also find that I do much of my best work in the evenings when the building is quiet. Mrs. Withem was unable to work in the evening, so if you are available to work some after hours, I would find that quite satisfactory and certainly a fair trade for some sunny days when you need to lie low." Then he turned his chair around.
Oh my goodness! He was, he was, one of us. A vampire. I took a step back. Then I stepped forward again.
He was gorgeous. What a dreamboat! Black hair with threads of silver. An aquiline nose, generous mouth. Snapping black eyes. Oh my. He made Brantley Crawford look like nothing.
"Are you? I mean when did?" I began.
"About 10 years ago, just after the war ended," he answered. "I love to hunt. I was chasing a deer in the Olympic peninsula. One of my hunting buddies accidentally shot me in the leg. At first it didn't seem too bad, and we bandaged it and kept on hunting. But then I guess I developed an infection and went downhill quickly. They took me to the closest hospital. There was a doctor there named…Carson? Carmichael? No. Cullen, Carlisle Cullen. He gave me a choice, and I took it. He told me that he couldn't hold me to the same lifestyle that he and his family followed, but I couldn't see holding to the alternative." He paused, shaking his head before continuing.
"I spent an agonizing several months living on my own, hunting until the thirst of the newborn period wore off. My wife had already passed away, and Arnie was old enough to take on day-to-day running of the company. I told him I was taking a sabbatical. When I returned home to Chicago, I had to decide what to do about well, feeding. I decided to buy a big game hunting park in Michigan. I can go there as often as I need. And sometimes I like a little variety, so I go hunting in the wild. I would love to have a partner. That could come along with the Executive Secretary position."
"But how did you know? I mean, that I, well, that I changed and that I'm a vegetarian."
"Well, one look at you, and I could tell that you'd been changed. Oh, the people here just think you lost your virginity, but I knew the truth. And all I had to do was see your brown eyes to know that you were not feeding on humans. The vampires that take human blood have red eyes. Our eyes are black when we're hungry and brown when we are satisfied." I blushed-well, I would have blushed if I still could-when he said virginity. His eyes were black, so he must be hungry. I was feeling pretty peckish myself at the moment, but I tried not to let it show.
"I'm actually planning a visit to the park tonight," he told me. "You look as though you could use a good meal. In fact, I'm amazed that you were able to function among all the humans here at work today."
"It was a work day!" I exclaimed. "I've already missed a day of work this week. I couldn't let a little hunger stand in my way." As I explained this, I realized I didn't get much to eat last night since James and Victoria interrupted me mid-hunt. That's probably why I lost my temper with Mr. Arnstein, Jr. instead of having the quiet, reasonable conversation I imagined.
"You have the most amazing self-control," Mr. Arnstein murmured.
"Thank you," I told him.
"I've watched you for a long time, Miss Pritle. May I call you Penny? I think that you and I would work very well together, in more ways than one. I haven't met anyone since my beloved Cecelia passed away that made me feel like this. I certainly didn't expect it to come after my…change. I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I would like permission to court you. Starting tonight with a date in the upper peninsula, chasing your choice of four-footed meals." He rose from his chair and gave a little bow.
I wasn't sure courting was really necessary, but I was interested to see what it would entail. I gave him a curtsy in return. He motioned me to come stand next to him at the window.
"Penny, we didn't expect what life-or death-brought us. But if it brought us together, perhaps it's not a bad thing." He leaned over and gave me a kiss on top of my head.
As for me, I was as happy as I'd ever been. And I guessed in some strange way I owed it all to James and Victoria.