DANDELIONS: The Notorious Ms. Baker

We could hear laughter as we approached the studio. When we walked in, the laughter stopped. The two women put down their cups.

“Anyway,” Reba said. “That’s how I feel about it.”

“About what?” Walt asked, removing his mask.

“Nothing.”

He looked at me. “I hate that answer.”

We got our own coffee. I wasn’t surprised to see Catherine Baker with Reba. Walt told me she had been spending more and more time at Rebel Pots. He didn’t like it. As for myself, I rather enjoyed running into the notorious Ms. Baker. But then, I like powerful women.

“Hello, Catherine,” I said.

“Hello, Mack.” She held out a plump, jeweled hand. How rare to touch another, in this age of COVID.

Reba addressed Walt. “Catherine and I were just talking about having a show.”

“Another one?” He looked surprised. She had hosted an open house just last week.

“I want to test a new line of tile.”

“I didn’t know you had any line of tile.”

“I don’t. But I can start. It’s actually Li-Li’s idea. For some reason, she’s become obsessed with fine tile.”

“Is there a market?” Walt asked.

“Catherine thinks so.”

“There’s an excellent market,” Baker said. “And the margins are very good.” She held her cup out to me. “Could you get me some more coffee, Hon?”

I took her cup. Baker wore a powder blue double-breasted blazer, with matching skirt. Her smooth, round thighs were crossed. Somehow, she made high heels intimidating. I knew all about this short, blonde woman, forty-ish, going a bit to fat but wearing it well. She had married the owner of the biggest appliance chain in the Midwest, divorcing the husband and keeping the stores. Her brown eyes were slow moving and slightly depraved. As though stripping you clean. Not of your clothes, but wallet.

“A little cream. Just half a spoon of sugar.”

She could be sure of it.

Reba had a portfolio of designs on the table. “Li-Li and I have already knocked out a few prototypes. I don’t want to do more until I can see how decorators react.”

“That’s very wise,” Catherine said.

“It will just be a little party. You don’t mind, Walt?”

“I guess not.” He knew what another open house meant. Hauling in chairs, making banners, helping with flowers, balloons, food and wine. Walt’s not much of a party animal. But he is at that stage with a woman where a man will do anything. How long does it last? With luck, forever.

Catherine picked up her purse. She was heading off to scout the Ford Center. “Mack!” she said suddenly, as though the thought just hit her. “Why don’t you come with me. There’s a dealer selling wall tile, and we’ll grab some samples.”

“Now?”

“I might need help carrying them to the car.”

Walt piped in. “Mack and I were just going to lunch.”

We were?

Baker frowned. “It seems a little early for lunch.”

“We’re early eaters. Maybe the dealer can help with those tiles.”

“Undoubtedly.” Baker sighed in her bored, disappointed way.

After she left Walt and I jumped in his truck. He’s the kind of driver who keeps both hands on the wheel, leaning forward. As we headed up 2nd Street he upbraided me. “For the love of Pete, stay away from that woman!”

“Really?”

“You like your marriage, don’t you?”

“So far.” It’s been well over twenty years.

“Then take my advice.”

“I’m not worried about Catherine Baker.”

“Guys like you never are. But you should be.”

“Why?”

“You know that imported rug dealer in the Ford Center?”

“Art Ahmadi? I like him.”

“So does Baker.”

“What do you mean?”

“She bought some Persian rugs from him. Started hanging around his store and giving him advice. Then they were spotted having dinner at the Hilton Head Design Expo last spring. In a really fancy steak house. Word got back to his wife. She does all the buying and knows all the same people. Of course she would hear.”

“Art’s happily married.”

“He’s still married. But not so happily.”

“I see what you mean.”

“I knew you would.” Walt dropped me at my office.

“No to lunch?” I said.

“Gotta work. And so do you. Be good, Mack.” He drove away. Walt looks out for me. He’s my angel. I can imagine him on my shoulder, talking sense. He wears a white robe and long beard, like Ezekiel.

Catherine Baker sits on the other shoulder. She carries a pitchfork and wears little red horns and a sheer red bodysuit and… Let’s just leave it at that.