Free The Last Dreamer by Barbara Solomon Josselsohn

elevator doors, Iliana watched her face come into focus, peeking out between the shoulders of two men in front of her. It reminded her of when she was a teenager sitting in the backseat of her father’s Ford Taurus, and could just make out her eyes in the small rearview mirror. Sometimes, particularly when her dad was driving her to a party, she couldn’t believe how pretty her eyes were. Large and brown, a little almond-shaped, with huge black pupils, framed by the soft, brown waves of her hair. For the first time in a long time, she could see those pretty eyes again. Maybe it was because she had just come out of a very successful business meeting with a charming man who admired and respected her. She was feeling very good about herself.
    She left the building and began walking, hearing Jeff’s voice in her head: “Wow, you must be good.” “Ms. Iliana Fisher, it’s been a pleasure.” Nearing the corner, she was vaguely aware of a man’s voice calling out. It annoyed her because it was disrupting her thoughts, like an alarm clock that interrupts a delicious dream. She was trying to concentrate on the memory of Jeff’s words, when suddenly she felt a harsh tug on her elbow. Alarmed, she pulled it back defensively, but then recognized the voice.
    “What’s going on? I’ve been chasing you for two blocks!”
    “Marc!” she said. “Oh my God, Marc! I thought someone was trying to take my bag. God, you scared me. What are you doing here?”
    “What am I doing here?” he said. “I’ve been working at the Affinia. I told you that this morning—Angers arranged the off-site for today. We just finished one meeting, and I was taking a walk to clear my head. What are you doing here?”
    “I was . . . shopping at Macy’s,” she said, pointing toward Thirty-Fourth Street.
    “You came all the way into the city for Macy’s?”
    “They have a wider selection here than the one in White Plains.”
    “Why, what are you buying?”
    “I was going to look for something to wear to Jena Connors’s.” Looking over Marc’s shoulder, she spotted Jeff Downs emerging from his building, wearing a black overcoat and holding the arm of a tall woman draped in a red sweater-coat. It dawned on her that the woman must be the Bloomingdale’s executive he had been waiting for. She had assumed his meeting was with a man.
    She grabbed Marc’s elbow and pivoted to his other side, so her back was to the couple. “Marc, I really need to catch a train back so I’ll be home for the kids,” she said.
    “Okay, fine, don’t let me hold you up. But come to think of it, go ahead and buy something to wear for the workshop. You want to make a good impression. And maybe you should get something for next Wednesday, too—there’s a cocktail party to celebrate the Cleveland office, wives invited.” He kissed her cheek. “I’d better get back; I’ll see you at home.”
    Iliana watched him proceed down the block, feeling guilty that she had lied to him. It was something she never did, other than to throw him off when she was shopping for his birthday presents. But she was also insulted that he had basically instructed her to buy new clothes. That was the kind of thing a parent did, not an equal partner in a marriage.
    Backing up to the wall of the nearest building, Iliana peeked around the portico. She saw Jeff step off the curb and raise his hand. Meanwhile, the woman he was with swung her head toward Iliana, letting the wind sweep her mahogany-colored hair away from her face. A cab stopped in front of them, and Jeff opened the door. The woman laughed, pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and slid inside. Iliana watched as the cab pulled away and disappeared into traffic. Their warm interaction made her question for a moment her own time with Jeff Downs. He had made her feel that he thought she was special—but was that simply the way he behaved with all women?
    She pushed the thought from her mind. They had had a wonderful meeting