A Striking Resemblance

I called him back the next day. "Lyle? This is Shelley. If you're still interested in asking me some questions, I'm available tonight. Do I get to choose the restaurant?"

He seemed happy to hear my voice. "Absolutely!"

We met in the parking lot, and he was again wearing what seemed to be a custom suit. With most men, I wondered if they cleaned up well. With Lyle, I wondered how he would look when dressed casually. It was inarguable that the man was handsome and well spoken. It was also inarguable that he was close to my father's age.

When we were seated, he asked me to order an appetizer, and then he did the same. It was a strong move. I hated that macho posturing where the man orders for the woman he barely knows. I found that grating and obnoxious. We shared both plates and I was surprised by the quality of the mozzarella in the caprese salad. The anti-pasta was decent, but the waiter touted the fresh local basil and tomatoes as well as the aged balsamic in the caprese.

Lyle smiled over at me, and I had to wonder how much he spent on teeth whitening.

"So, would you mind if we took this chronologically instead of just spitballing concepts?"

I shrugged. "Sure." I took a quick glance around and realized that I was a little overdressed. It wasn't a concern, as Lyle was way overdressed. If anyone was going to be looking at our table, they'd be seeing him. I just relaxed in the shadow of his perfectly coiffed hair, manicured fingers and tanned face that made him look like he visited a mudding spa a few times a month. I'd be willing to wager that he killed it with the over fifty set.

We were between the appetizers and entrées as we enjoyed our wine. He jumped right in.

"Strictly as a gesture to show that management appreciates everything that you nurses do, how could we demonstrate that on a daily, a monthly and quarterly basis?" We bounced some ideas back and forth and every few moments, he would pause and text notes to himself. In the meantime, I tried to slip in a question here and a question there that would give me some clue about his thoughts on the strike. Either he didn't notice, or he didn't care. Lyle was open and happy to answer any questions that I had.

I had considered ordering the calamari, but didn't want to get too adventurous with a place I wasn't familiar with. Instead, I ordered the chicken francese. It was good enough for me to wish that I had been a bit more avant-garde.

Actually, I started wondering if I actually was one of those snooty assholes I thought the locals would hate. The restaurant wasn't having any issues at all meeting my expectations. When we finished the meal and Lyle had paid, we sat and talked over espresso. He finally walked me out to my car, thanked me for a beautiful night, and kissed my hand.

I had to give it to him, Lyle was suave. The next day I was back at the picket line, my hiatus in the land of culinary heights over. I ate a banana and a slightly stale buttered roll as I marched back and forth. I had been there for a few hours when the woman from our union parked behind us and came stomping over. She stood in front of me, stopping my pacing, and raised her eyebrows and hands in a questioning gesture, not saying a word.

I was completely confused. "Um, good morning?"

"Good morning. That's what you've got? You're giving me a good morning?"

"Look, I have no idea what's going on here. Was I supposed to do something I didn't?"

I could see her face getting red and thought she might be chewing the inside of her cheek.

"How about doing something you shouldn't have done? Something so stupid I didn't think it was necessary to go over?"

I started getting angry. "Such as?"

The woman stared at me while shaking her head. "Such as meeting with the hospital's corporate lawyer and feeding him information on what would make the nurses happy. He's filed a temporary restraining order that's leading to an injunction to stop the strike. He told the judge that he met with a representative from the nurses and had a fruitful discussion about what would make them happy. He even had detailed notes. He said that the hospital would be happy to meet each of those goals while negotiating in good faith on the other points of contention. You screwed us, Shelley."

I couldn't summon any words. I was too shocked and embarrassed to even be outraged by Lyle's actions. Meanwhile, she continued.

"We have a small firm from Denver on retainer, but they can't handle something like this. We reached out to a local firm. I'm hoping and praying they can straighten this out. We've set up an appointment for them to meet you this afternoon. If you weren't deliberately trying to screw us over, you'll meet her this afternoon. I'll text you their contact information."

"Of course I'll go. This... he played me for a fool. I was such an idiot. I thought that I was using him and getting information about what their plans were for the strike. He... I just feel so stupid. What's next?"

She shook her head in disgust. "What's next is that I stay here, and you go home. Wait for my text."

I did what she said. When I was a few minutes from my place, I started to feel nauseous. Parking haphazardly, I ran inside and stood over the toilet. My stomach was a roiling mass of acid as I stood there and stood there and stood there. After finally realizing that nothing was coming up, I ate at Tums every five minutes for the next twenty minutes. My mortification was there, but it started getting pushed out by anger. I wanted to get even with Lyle, but knew that was far-fetched. Before I could even indulge in revenge fantasies, I needed to try to repair whatever damage I'd done.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, I grabbed a pen and started making notes. Everything that I could remember about our conversations went into that little notepad. I even included as much as I could remember about his initial overtures and invitation. As I was working, I got the text with the address of the law firm. When I was done, I sat in front of my laptop and tried to put everything in chronological order and turn it into a cohesive narrative. I printed up three copies and then sat there watching the moment stick by.

My frustrations boiling over, I finally left early. It took me fifteen minutes to arrive, but my appointment wasn't for another hour. I sat in my car outside of their building for a while before getting out and walking along the sidewalk. After killing enough time, I went inside and took a seat.

After a while, a tall man wearing cowboy boots and a bolo tie with a suit came out to shake my hand.

"Sorry, this receptionist had to use the lady's room. I'm Judge Sallister. Did you have an appointment?"

"Yes. I'm Shelley Acton. The union made an appointment for me?"

"A pleasure, Ms. Acton. Your meeting is with my partner. Why don't you follow me and I'll bring you over to her office. Could we get you some tea or something else to drink?"

"No. Thank you."

He rapped his knuckles on the open door to a spacious office. There was an attractive woman sitting behind a large desk, and I didn't realize how tall she was until she stood. The judge waved me in.

"Your three-thirty. Ms. Shelley Acton, from the union."

The woman looked at me with a gaze that said she could immediately assess my voting history, my height and weight, and what I had for lunch two weeks ago. She had the eyes of a trainer of thoroughbreds or boxers, evaluating and making judgments.

She smiled as she spoke, and that made me a lot more comfortable. "You're a neonatal nurse, aren't you?"

How the hell did she know that? "I am. Do we know each other?"

She stepped from behind the desk and shook my hand. "No, we've never met, but you were on duty when my niece gave birth. There were issues. The baby had a shadow murmur."

I smiled and nodded. "Lucinda. She's a beautiful girl. There were no issues with the heart, right? And the mother was Shannon? Her husband is a Marine?"

The lawyer's eyes widened. "Yes. Shannon Poplin. Sorry, Shannon Kirschbaum. I slip up sometimes and go by her maiden name. That's quite a memory you have."

"Not really. Her father-in-law is in charge of the construction crew working on the grounds of the hospital. He's shown me more than a few pictures of Lucinda."

The woman laughed. "I'll bet. Well, what was an interesting case just became personal. We were briefed on what occurred and it was annoying on a professional level. Lawyers like that man are why the people in our profession have their own category of jokes. The judge here is like a grandfather to Shannon. I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Liz Armiggido, and we're going to cut this man off at his knees."

The judge interrupted, and I turned his way. He looked like a well-to-do cowboy grandpa. Maybe someone who lectured at a university in Arizona. He seemed approachable, but had a confident air and gave off an aura of erudition. "Shelley, are you sure we can get you anything? Maybe a sandwich or a coffee?"

"No, thank you, sir."

He smiled and waved off my remark. "It's not sir, and the title of judge is now honorary. I haven't been on the bench in years. Actually, Shannon and her father played at my retirement party. Do you mind if I sit in? I've known Lyle for years. He looks the part, but he couldn't litigate his way out of a paper bag. If Liz and I both show up and I'm her co-counsel, pardon my French, but he'll shit a brick."

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped my lips. The last thing I expected was for this man to curse. "Whatever you think is best. I'm an open book. I just want to help repair the damage I've done."

He offered that reassuring smile again. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Liz would be at the top of her field in any law firm in the world. She just happens to be in love with Pueblo. Trust me, when this overpaid hospital shyster finds out he's up against her, he's going to regret manipulating you."

For the first time in a while, I was able to relax.

Liz reached over and pushed a button on her intercom. "Peter, could you bring in some fruit and three waters? Thanks."

Whether I wanted something to eat or drink or not, it was provided. I handed each of them a copy of my notes and answered all the questions that they had. I thought it was pretty cut and dry, but both of them asked questions that I should have anticipated and other questions I would've never have thought of in a million years.

"Okay, so the good news is that he should have filed everything before the strike began," Liz started. "Unfortunately, that doesn't prevent him from doing so now, but it doesn't look great, and any judge would hesitate before approving an injunction against a strike already in motion. I'm confident that it's a delaying technique, and that is something to force the nurses back to work for an additional two weeks or so. We have to go in tomorrow and file a formal response. We're going to push to start the pleadings immediately. It sounds bigger than it is, but we'll just be arguing in front of the judge. We'll likely wrap things up in one day, two at most."

I nodded. "I'm really sorry about all of this. He seemed so sincere, and I really thought that I could get some sort of an advantage."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Shelley. This is what he does, and he's pretty good at it. Notice that I'm not talking about the practice of law or arguing before a judge. No, that's not his forte. He manipulates people. He got to you, but he would've gotten to most anyone. Let us do our jobs and I'll get back to you with any questions and I'll reach out to let you know how things are resolved. In the meantime, good luck with the strike and thank you for taking such good care of my niece and Lucinda."

The first thing that I did when I got out of my car was to call the woman from the union. I explained everything that had occurred.

"All right. I appreciate the update. You have my apologies if I was a little, I don't know, irate this morning."

She couldn't see me, but I shook my head. "No, that was totally my fault."

"Actually, it wasn't. You're a nurse, Shelley. And from what I've heard, you're excellent at what you do. I should have explained that management would try to manipulate you or attempt to divide and conquer with the nurses. We didn't prepare you, and that's on me."

"Okay. That's good to hear, I guess, but it doesn't make me feel any less the idiot."

"Can I share some privileged information with you, Shelley? From what I've heard, those magnificent teeth of his? Dentures."

I laughed, and it felt like things returned to normal between us. I didn't feel like being alone, and as it was already late in the afternoon, I grabbed some take-out for all of us and went to Dad's place.

Haliaka was weeding their front lawn when I showed up with the food. It was weird in its normalcy. If Norman Rockwell had been rich, this is what his life would look like. Of all the thoughts I've had of my father throughout my life, him doing yard maintenance or cleaning out the gutters never entered my mind. Not once. He was always the famous, powerful and wealthy Dad that I saw once in a blue moon. He was limousines and five-star restaurants, not lawnmowers and fertilizer.

And yet, there was his wife in shorts, a comfortable-looking shirt, sneakers and a scarf over her hair as she listened to music and tended their yard. Honestly, they were perfect together. Dad needed someone to humanize him. His best friend was a legendary rock star and his business partner, and his other best friend was a pioneer goddess of rock who was in the rock 'n' roll Hall of Fame. He spent hour after hour at work hanging out with musicians trying to create their masterpieces.

Haliaka was real life, and she grounded him.

The flipside of that, was he loved her without reservations and was a hundred percent dedicated to making her happy. It took my father way too long to live his best life, but I was happy to be around to see it

"Need some help?"

She shook her head and stretched. "No, I was about to head inside and get some lemonade." She nodded towards my bags of takeout. "What have you got?"

"I found a new fast-casual place. It's fried chicken, but there's no grease. They use air fryers. I got some sandwiches, some sides and a family-sized..."

That was weird. Where did that come from? For as long as I could remember, Dad had been Dad and family had been my mother and stepfather. Out of nowhere, when I say the word family to Haliaka my mind grinds to a halt and my tongue stops working. I wasn't choked up and it wasn't some transcendent moment or anything, but something shifted in my soul. He wasn't just Dad, and he wasn't just some iconic figure who drifted in and out of my life. And she wasn't just his partner. They were family. Somehow, that word held a great deal of meaning for me.

I had been betrayed by my husband, I had been betrayed by Lyle and maybe, in some self-centered way, I had been betrayed by my job. But it was okay. I had family, and I knew in my bones that they would always be there for me.

Haliaka was staring at me, waiting for me to finish my sentence. Instead, I walked over, hands full of bags, and wrapped my arms around her.

She laughed. "Ugh, I'm a sweaty mess."

"Thanks for being there for Dad. Thanks for being there for me. I'm glad you're in my life."

She took a step back and had a look of concern in her eyes. "Shelley, is everything alright?"

"It wasn't, but it will be. I was incredibly stupid and messed some things up, but it's going to be okay."

We went inside and I told her all about it. How Lyle had used me, about how overconfident I was, and how the lawyer the union got for us was related to one of my patients.

"I remember that guy from the meetings. He was a smarmy ass."

Lyle had popped in and out of the informal meetings we had with the hospital when Haliaka was helping us with the financials.

"Smarmy covers it."

"That's part of what drew me to your father, you know. There's not an ounce of subterfuge in him. Within a couple of minutes of meeting him, you know exactly how he feels about you. That man has his flaws, but being disingenuous certainly isn't one of them."

I thought back on my history with men. The stereotype is that girls rebel against their father by choosing the clichéd bad boy. Well, I heard all the rumors about Dad, and I knew the people that he hung out with. If it wasn't out of the fear of a repeat of Altamont, he would've hired some Hells Angels to work security at my birthday parties. He was legit feared in the business. I'd seen him slip into protector mode and break down record executives, venue managers and anyone who he felt screwed with his people.

How do you rebel against that by dating a bad boy?

The answer was you didn't. Instead, I spent my life pursuing men who were hyper educated, glib, well-coiffed and often condescending. When my father would spend forty-five minutes talking to a hot dog vendor, my husband and the men I had dated would be casually supercilious to those they felt below them and would never even consider that those they talked down to would catch on.

I sighed and resolved to look in a different direction in the future. I needed to blaze my own path. Maybe there was a third choice out there, just a decent, blue-collar nice guy who would appreciate me for what I brought to the table.

Haliaka reached over the kitchen counter and took my hand. "Cheer up. I'm gonna tell you something, but you have to promise not to laugh at your father."

Intrigued, I quickly agreed.

"Okay, he's in the basement online booking his attendance at a convention."

I shrugged. "Okay. That's it?"

She smiled. "Ask me the name of the convention and what seminar he's the most excited for."

I did.

"It's HollyJollyCon in North Pole, Wyoming. That's literally the town's name and they have the convention for professional Santas every year. He's excited about all of it, but can't stop talking about a seminar called the ABC's of Ho Ho Ho."

I tried very, very hard not to laugh. With the exception of his beloved birch beer soda and thin mint cookies, Dad wouldn't admit to being enthusiastic about anything, regardless of how obvious it is. He helps run a concert for charity every year in the winter. And when the music is over, Santa makes an appearance and spends time with disadvantaged children. And yes, Dad plays Santa.

He absolutely loves it, but the chances of him admitting that are next to zero.

For me, the whole thing was nothing but bonuses. I was pretty sure that there was where Haliaka fell in love with him, and it solved one of my most irritating problems with my father. What do you buy for a man who was as rich as he is and who has the contacts that he has?

Well, it turns out that he gushes over absolutely anything having to do with Christmas. His basement is full of Santa related stuff. I thought he might cry when I found a first pressing of a Burl Ives album of Christmas songs. He'd probably get into a fist fight with anyone who mentioned his reaction, which wouldn't be great for a man in his early sixties. He has that album hanging in his office.

Haliaka opened the door near their living room and called down the stairs.

"Mike! Shelley is here, and she brought dinner."

Dad came up to join us for dinner and it looked as if the smile on his face was going to be permanent.

"Haliaka told me about this convention. Has it been around for a while?"

It was as if he had appointed himself their PR man. He regaled me with their history as we divvied up the salads. Dad was okay with spice and so was I, but Haliaka loved heat in her food. I'd gotten her the Nashville hot chicken, and she swapped half of hers with Dad. He didn't even look at her as she did so. Didn't have to. It was so natural and organic for them that he just kept talking and looking at me with those excited eyes as his hands found the new inclusion on his plate.