Silent Partner ...A Haunting Rain

I knew she was enchanted.
She left glass footprints
In the rain,
And an aching in my heart
When I saw her
Through the pane

Jeannie Church

It’s a drizzly, melancholy day, and I’m watching umbrellas float by outside like bubbles on a slow-moving stream.

I’m in Bygones, the pub across the street from Ruskin House, the philanthropic organization where I work.

My friend, Jake, shakes his head in awe. “What’s an Osgoode lawyer doing working in a small burg like this, for a non-profit?”

I smile and shrug. “I was drafted.”

He scowls at my flippant reply. “Say, what happened to the Grant Preston I knew in law school—you know, the hipster who’d answer, Hell no—I won’t go. Did somebody take him captive?”

“Maybe he just grew up, Jake.”

“I think it’s more like somebody has him enthralled.”

I arch an eyebrow, but he smirks and points through the bleary pane to the yellow window squares of Ruskin House. Jeannie Church, the secretary, is framed in the windows adjusting the blinds.

He sighs wistfully, “O, she could teach the torches to burn bright.”

The mere glimpse of her lovely face saddens me—I’ve tried everything to make her like me—all to no avail.

Jake sees my sad expression and turns serious. “That bad, huh? Guess you struck out big time with her. Sorry, Pal.”

“I just don’t get it, Jake. I’ve never met a woman so cold and distant. It’s as if she took an instant dislike to me the moment she met me. Nothing I do or say can thaw her icy reserve.”

“So, why are you still there? It can’t be the ambience—that building’s at least a century old and your boss is kind of dreary too.”

I grow instantly defensive.

“Mr. New? Naw, he’s all right. He’s a kind man, and it’s strange because his warmth drew me to Ruskin House in the first place. I wasn’t planning on working pro bono, but somehow the place just melted my heart. He hired me because he said he saw a light in me—and I believed him. And, he offered me the same salary I’d receive at a big firm.”

Jake looked perplexed. “No kidding! —Well, how do they do it—where’s the money coming from?”

“Mr. New simply says it’s a trust fund set up by a wealthy benefactor.”

“Man, that’s really odd—you don’t often hear of that.”

I nodded. Frankly I found the experience of working for a firm that's at least a century old disconcerting at times—as if I entered a time warp and ended up in a Victorian era counting house right out of a Dickens novel.

Jake smirked."I can see you're thinking it's odd too."

“That’s not all that’s odd. Mr. New's got a silent partner I’ve never met. He has an office next door to ours and he never comes out. In my six months with the foundation, I’ve never seen him enter or leave. If Alfred New needs to consult, he buzzes him on the intercom, and the partner’s door clicks open, and he goes in.”

Jakes eyes are wide. “Wow! That’s really spooky.”

The wall clock chimes the hour–my signal that it’s time to get back to the grind.

“Thanks for dropping by for lunch,” I say, getting to my feet, “—let’s get together on the weekend—maybe catch a Jay’s game.”

“Sounds like a plan. And oh, if I were you, I’d forget about that secretary, Pal—they say it’s gonna be a long, cold winter—and you won’t need any more frostiness.”

I laugh and clap him on the shoulder, but inside, I’m grim. I’ve been thinking the same thing.

© 2019, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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