Breakfast at Tiffani's
A/N: This story follows The Scarf and The Morning After. Some folks have wondered how the scarves wound up where they did and the conversation John and Joss had about it.
The usual disclaimers: Nothing you recognize belongs to me.
"I still can't believe you don't have coffee," Joss said as they walked down the street.
Reese raised an elegant eyebrow.
"I know, Alfred buys Batman his coffee."
Joss had the red scarf tied loosely around her neck. Earlier that morning Reese had had the singular pleasure of rubbing lotion onto her damp skin and then watching her get dressed, noting that today she fastened her dress with a large pin she had in her purse. The scarf danced in the light breeze, touching her face and hair and swirling around her earrings.
"After last night, I least I could do, Joss, is buy you a cup of coffee."
"Big spender," she snorted.
"Cheap date," he shot back, taking her hand. They stopped for a moment, gazing at each other. She squeezed his hand gently, then let it go, putting her hands in her coat pockets.
Joss was always beautiful, but today she was stunning, dressed in her holiday finery, her hair in a loose upsweep with tendrils kissing her glowing cheeks. As she walked along in four-inch heels, he marveled at her ability to dodge sidewalk cracks, uneven curbs and open grates, seemingly without being aware of them. He knew that he was tempting fate by walking out in the open with her, but it was still early, most New Yorkers were sensibly in their beds and the only ones stirring were tourists and bargain hunters, focused on their own agendas.
As they turned the corner, always alert for threats, Reese saw two young men loitering in the shadow of an empty storefront. Beers in their hands, they had obviously been out all night enjoying the holiday, and as they approached the young men leaned forward, leering, clearly preparing to say something to Joss. Reese shot them a look so intense and menacing that one young man stumbled back into his buddy, spilling his drink and as they passed, the two men were clumsily wrestling with each other, slurring insults.
Tiffani's was just a few blocks from his apartment. Scrupulously careful about remaining anonymous, Reese had never actually entered the diner, but he knew from watching the traffic in and out of the place that the food was good, it was served fast and the patrons didn't linger.
Tiffani, a beefy former semi-pro football player, was working the grill, while his wife, Dee, prowled her section of the floor. They sat down in a small booth in the corner and ordered two coffees.
"Must have been some party," Dee said, as she brought their order over, "if you're just headin' home now."
They looked at each other, and then Joss said, smirking, "It was okay."
"Just okay, huh?" Dee said.
"They didn't have coffee." Joss grinned at Reese.
Reese rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to live this down until he had the beans, Juan Valdez* and his damn donkey in his apartment.
They sat there quietly for a while, sipping their coffee, and then Joss got that look on her face that all men since the beginning of time have learned to fear, the 'we need to talk' look.
Reese knew what she wanted to talk about. He was damned if he was going to make it easy for her.
"I need to talk to you about the scarves." Joss said, leaning forward.
Reese leaned back. "What about them?"
"They're beautiful, they're gorgeous, I love that you got them for me, but I can't keep them. They're too expensive and if I wear them to work, eventually someone's going to ask me about them. There are enough people breathing down my neck that someone's going to notice."
"Well, Detective," Reese said, slipping into that arrogant, patronizing drawl that he knew infuriated her, "The answer's simple. Don't wear them to work. Wear them in your private life. Wear them at home."
She looked away a moment and he knew that she was biting back some choice words. Carefully, as though he was a child, she said, "If I wear them in my personal life, people will notice and I can't explain how I got them. If I leave them at home, my mom's the original Snoop Sister** and she's going to notice. I can't tell them about..," her voice trailed off and Reese knew what she couldn't say.
I can't tell them about you. I can't tell them about us.
Her voice softened to almost a whisper. "I'd want to wear them. And if I can't wear them, it's a waste to have them sitting on my dresser."
Reese's torso shifted forward, just a little. "What do you want to do, Joss?"
"I want to donate them to St. Sebastian's for their spring auction. They have a soup kitchen and a homeless shelter and Taylor's volunteered there as part of his school's outreach program. The economy's kicked their butt just like everyone else's and donations are down. Something like this will give them publicity and maybe more people will give. It's a good place and I think that –"
"I know, Joss."
Her eyes flickered and he knew she was looking at not the man who sat across from her, beautifully groomed in a tailored black suit, not the man she had spent hours making love to, but the man who she met, filthy and stinking of booze, just a few months ago. A man who might have sought shelter there, when the weather was so bitterly cold that people were dying in the streets, or a maybe a meal there when his stomach was so shredded with cheap booze he needed to soothe it for a day before going on another bender. That man.
She went in for the kill. "Then you understand."
Reese blew out a breath. She was good. "I'll take care of it."
"Thank you." She touched his hand.
They finished their coffees and as Reese was paying, Dee said to Joss, nodding approvingly, "Nice scarf!"
"Thanks." Joss smiled at John. "It was a gift." In that moment, John knew that she was keeping the red scarf. She shot him a look with her eyes as if to say, 'Didn't you know that?'
Dee slapped John's arm. "Good going, guy – it almost makes up for not having coffee at your place." She held up her hand when Reese opened his mouth as if to protest, "Don't even pretend – you finally got her to spend the night and then you forgot the coffee. Tiff and I have run this place since the Stone Age and I can't tell you how many guys have done this. Hell, he did it when I first spent the night with him! Tell 'em, hon!"
Tiffani saluted from behind the grill. "Whatever she said."
Dee said in a stage whisper, "You want her to come back, have coffee."
"I'll try to remember." Reese said dryly.
Okay, the beans, Juan Valdez, the damn donkey and a coffee plantation in Columbia.
Reese led Joss past Tiffani's. On the next corner, a town car was waiting, the chauffeur wiping imaginary smears from the right head light.
"When did you do this? I was going to take a cab."
"When you were in the shower." The company he called, while largely legitimate, had a sideline of providing transportation for some questionable activities. There would be no record of the pickup and he knew Joss well enough to know that she would get out of the car several blocks before her home without having to tell her.
He wanted to kiss her, but they had already tempted fate too much. As he turned to go, the last thing he saw was the tip of the red scarf before the chauffeur shut the car door.
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Two nights later, while Joss and Taylor were saying goodbye to their West Coast relatives at the airport, Reese slipped into their apartment. The box of scarves was sitting on her dresser. He'd been in her apartment before, but now that they were lovers, everything looked new, and different. Pulling the red scarf out of the box, he held it in his hand for a moment, then laid it on her pillow. Taking the box, he ran his fingers lightly over her bed, and vanished into the night.
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Harold Finch was a smart man, and as a smart man, he knew when not to ask questions. He crafted emails and created files to make the donation seem like a legitimate transaction. While he was accomplishing that, Reese examined the staff at St. Sebastian's. With all the concerns about counterfeit goods and fake donations for tax write offs, he had to make sure that whoever physically took possession of the scarves had a reputation that would eliminate any suspicion, but at the same time be someone who wouldn't ask a lot of questions.
He settled on Melissa Frazier. She had worked at St. Sebastian's for over twenty years in a variety of positions and currently was filling in for the head of procurement while he was on medical leave. Married with three adult children, she was expecting her first grandchild in two months and her middle child was getting married in June. She was just busy enough and had enough happy distractions to be the perfect candidate. Reese set up an appointment for a few days after New Year's, posing as attorney John Ross.
"What a wonderful way to start the New Year," Melissa Frazier said as she ushered him into the tiny cluttered procurement office. "May I?"
"Of course," Reese said. He opened the box, turning it towards her.
"Oh, they're lovely," she sighed. "I'm not going to take them out, but I'm just going to touch one…beautiful. They'll be the stars of the auction. It's too bad the donation is anonymous…can't you give me a hint?"
Leaning forward, Reese gave her that 'I would only tell you, if I could' smile that had melted hearts all over the globe. "Our firm wouldn't be known for its discretion if we didn't maintain confidentiality, Mrs. Frazier."
Blinking rapidly, Melissa Frazier smiled back. "I understand." She turned to the computer terminal behind the desk. "I'll just bring up the file." While her back was turned, Reese quickly pulled the gold scarf out of the box and slipped it in his pocket.
"Let's see…all I have to do is add my electronic signature signifying that we accepted eleven scarves –"
"Ten, actually," Reese said.
"Ten? The file here says eleven." She turned around. Reese met her eyes, perfectly calm as if the gold scarf wasn't in his pocket.
"Someone just fat-fingered the entry," she finally said, changing the number. "Ten scarves - a complete set – that makes sense." Turning back to the terminal she entered her electronic signature and closed the file. Turning around, she closed the box, smiled and shook his hand again. "You made my day, Mr. Ross."
"Just doing my job, Mrs. Frazier." Leaning forward again, he said, "What happens to the scarves now?"
"They go into our vault." Her face brightened – Reese knew she wanted to extend the time they spent together; he wanted to make sure the scarves were secured - out of sight, out of mind. "Would you like to see it?"
Reese paused, as if he was considering it. "I don't have a lot of time, but –"
"Neither do I, but I'll feel better if I can get them in the vault now before my next meeting. If we go now, we'll be done in less than ten minutes."
"I can do that."
As they moved quickly down the hall, Melissa Frazier explained that the vault was a holdover from the old Immigrants bank that used to be next to the church. "When the church took over the building, it was too expensive to take the vault out, so we kept it. It's not state of the art, but it's come in handy in terms of keeping non-monetary valuables safe, with all the activity on site…Here we are. I'm actually glad you're here – the door is pretty heavy." She entered the combination, they waited for a soft click, then Reese turned the heavy spoke like handle and he opened the door.
They stepped into the vault. It was cool and even though the door was open, the quiet hum of activity around them stilled. Several items were already on the shelves. Melissa Frazier put the box on a shelf, then made an entry on a sheet attached to a clipboard. Initialing it, she said, "We do a regular reconciliation of the items in the vault with our file records. You can let the donor know that the ultimate care will be taken to protect these items."
Reese thought about the all the people who came to America, opening small accounts, slowly achieving their goals over the years – that first storefront, their first home, helping their child become the first person in their family to graduate from college – so many things. He said, "There were a lot of hopes and dreams in this little space."
Melissa Frazier met his eyes. "You're right. All those hopes and dreams slowly coming to fruition, one penny at a time…,"she smiled, "hopefully the auction will make a few dreams come true, too."
True to her word, they were finished in less than ten minutes. They said their goodbyes and Melissa Frazier went off to her next meeting. Reese made a quick call to Finch and had him update and backdate the files.
As he walked out of the building, Reese reflected that he had not been completely honest with Joss. He knew about St. Sebastian's but he had never been there or to any other similar facility. He was too self- destructive and perversely too proud to get help. It had taken the combined efforts of that first conversation with Joss, Finch's bizarre intervention and Fusco trying to kill him to start him on a road that had given him a purpose, a partnership with a brilliant man and a relationship with an incredible woman that exceeded his wildest dreams.
If auctioning off the scarves helped even one person move forward on their road, it was worth it.
He left her a message. "It's done. Call me."
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"I have something for you."
Joss leaned back against the headboard, hair wild, mouth swollen with kisses. "I don't know if I can take much more," she smiled.
It was three days later. Joss had been able to steal away for a few hours and a line of clothes, weapons and paraphernalia made a trail from just inside his apartment door to the bed.
Reese opened the bedside table drawer and handed her the gold scarf.
"John, you said –"
"All the other scarves are safe in the vault, like I told you. You mentioned your mother had a milestone birthday coming up…I thought she might like this."
Joss was grinning from ear to ear. "Taylor and I have been scratching our heads trying to decide what to get her. She doesn't need another figurine or a plant and a gift certificate seems so impersonal. This is perfect. She's treating herself to a cruise…we can take the money we've put aside for her gift and purchase all the side trips…we might even be able to give her some extra spending money." Putting the scarf down, she took Reese's hands in hers and kissed them. "Thank you."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Reese was able to tear his eyes away. "I also have something else for you." His head tilted toward the kitchen counter, where a shiny new container proudly rested.
Joss laughed out loud. "Coffee! Do you want to have a cup?"
"No." He put the scarf in the drawer and pulled her back into his arms.
*Juan Valdez – has appeared in ads for over 50 years as the symbol of the National Federation of Coffee Growers of Columbia. His donkey's name is Conchita.
**Snoop Sisters – a 70's television show about two elderly women who solved mysteries. I once had a co-worker, who would refer to anyone being nosy, male or female, as a Snoop Sister.