Fic: Affinity (3/?)
This part might be a little boring for those of you who've seen the reunion movie. In other words, it's little more than transcription, but I promise next week will be better. See part 1 and part 2 if you need to get caught up.
PART THREE
Typical Blair, Natalie thought affectionately. Always has to make the grand entrance.
She had barely had time to react to Raymond Garrett's presence at the inn's front desk -- apparently he was the manager now? -- when her old friend had glided down the stairs, dressed to the nines and gesturing dramatically. Natalie could practically hear the orchestral accompaniment.
"Hi, Blair." She grinned and opened her arms. Blair came in for a peck on the cheek but held her body just out of arm's reach. She was wearing a white wraparound shirt with feathered cuffs -- actual, bird-type feathers, from the look of it, and didn't want to ruffle them. Natatlie was having none of that. She pulled the blonde into a hug and squeezed.
"It's so good to see you," Blair enthused as they parted.
"You look fantastic."
And she did. The same killer figure, the same perfectly highlighted hair, the same well-moisturized skin. Blair was probably going to look just like this at 46, 56, maybe even 66. If Natalie didn't love her so much, she'd hate her.
"Thank you. I think so too."
They both laughed. This was usually the part where Jo showed up with a snarky remark to take the wind out of Blair's sails, and Natalie instinctively looked over the blonde's shoulder. But there was no one in sight but Raymond, who was busy carrying Natalie's suitcase in from the doorway. The common room had a sitting area with two armchairs, a sofa and a coffee table all situated in front of a fireplace, which was empty at the moment in deference to the moderate temperature outside. Large windows let in plenty of sunshine, showing off furnishings that Natalie guessed were all brand new -- she had stayed here once before, years ago, and had a vague recollection of being unimpressed by the decor.
"This is really nice, Blair." She raised her arms to indicate the room. "Classy, but not too much. You know, I half expected you to turn this place into the Taj Mahal."
Blair beamed at the compliment. "Oh, I wanted to, but Jo wouldn't let me."
"What a stick in the mud."
"I know!"
They giggled again.
"Not that I'm tired of you already, but is Tootie here yet?"
Blair shook her head, her expression understanding. She knew that Natalie and Tootie, once inseparable, hadn't seen each other in the flesh in over five years. Blair and Jo lived in Manhattan, which was also the address on Natalie's driver's license, so even though she spent far more time out of town than in it now that she worked in international news, she had managed to see them a little more frequently. It was nothing short of a miracle that the entire group had been able to swing Thanksgiving week off at the same time. Well, Mrs. Garrett's time was her own, so that was easy, and Blair's job as chief in-house counsel for Warner Industries obviously gave her a lot of leeway with her schedule. Natalie, Tootie and Jo were the ones who'd had to beg, borrow and steal to make time for this reunion. But it was going to be so worth it.
"Any minute now, I'm sure," Blair said.
A teenaged boy in a shirt and tie came down the stairs. "Ms. Warner, the ceiling in Room 8 is leaking again."
"What? Raymond, I thought we had that taken care of." Back behind the desk, Raymond shrugged apologetically, and Blair frowned. "Well, can you please do something about it?"
He gave her a blank look. The boy went over and pulled a toolbox out from under the counter, sliding it toward the older man wordlessly.
"Oh, thank you, Sam," Blair said.
"Tools," Raymond said.
Natalie suppressed a snort at his uncertain expression, one that made him look every inch the CPA, even though he wasn't practicing anymore. "Get Jo to do it," she said, prodding Blair gently in the shoulder. "She hasn't lost her touch, has she?"
Blair schooled her expression into neutrality. "She's not here."
"What?"
"She had to stay in the city. Crime never takes a holiday, you know." Her tone was artificially cheerful. "She'll be here tomorrow."
"Aw, man. I can't believe it."
Flapping one hand dismissively, Blair took Natalie's elbow with the other and guided her to the sofa.
"I just dodged that bullet myself," Natalie said as they got comfortable. "My slave-driver of a boss called this morning with some B.S. about needing my 'special talents' on a segment that isn't coming together the way he'd like. Funny how when I ask for more time or more resources I'm just another producer, but when he wants something, suddenly I'm indispensable. The linchpin that holds the network together."
"How did you get out of it?"
"Just told him no way. I've been on the road for five months. I would have insisted on a break even if this reunion wasn't etched in stone." Briefly, she wondered if Blair was angry at Jo for not putting her foot down. The cop's absence had not been part of the plan. Truth be told, Natalie was a little angry herself. Why does she always have to be so damn responsible? Yeah, yeah, I'm sure the streets of the Bronx need her more than the back roads of Peekskill, but still. This week was supposed to be locked in!
Blair obviously didn't want to dwell on it. She asked about Natalie's latest travels, which led to a discussion of Blair's upcoming trip to Dallas, also work-related. Before long Natalie found herself slipping into a familiar role: letting Blair do most of the talking and making most of her contributions to the conversation in the form of questions. Natalie had always found other people's lives fascinating. What intrigued her the most about Blair's were the incongruities. The girl who had sworn to marry money -- as if she didn't have enough of her own -- had ended up with a police officer, the daughter of a cocktail waitress and an ex-con. Even without the gay angle, that was huge. Not that Blair had traded "Material Girl" for "All You Need is Love." You only had to look at what she was wearing to know that.
Or this inn. As Blair recapped in detail the challenges she'd faced during the renovations, the many difficult choices she'd had to make (as if her entire personal fortune was staked on whether the floors were walnut or mahogany), it occurred to Natalie that an outside observer might accuse Blair of organizing this reunion just so she could show the place off to her friends. But if you'd known her forever like Natalie had, you knew that wasn't true. Not just for that.
"For the record, are you sure you won't let us pay for our rooms? It can't be good for business to turn people away for a full week like this. Especially with the holiday."
Blair waved that off. "Being booked solid is nothing but good for business. It's a surefire way to generate buzz. Like how they keep people on line in front of nightclubs. The illusion of popularity inevitably leads to the real thing. Besides, I wanted us to have the place to ourselves. Just family."
As if on cue, there was a shout from the doorway: "Natalie! Blair!"
Shrieking like a kid on Christmas morning, Natalie shot out of her seat and ran to meet Tootie halfway. "Tootie! It's really you!"
The youngest of the former roommates dropped her daughter's hand so she could put both of hers on her hips and fix Natalie with an admonishing look. "Come on, now, you said you'd try."
Natalie skidded to a stop. "Oh -- Dorothy. I'm totally trying." She couldn't resist a second longer and threw her arms around her friend. "Old habits die hard."
Tootie (as Natalie would always think of her, no matter how badly she wanted to lose the nickname) hugged back, good and hard. It was bliss. Natalie, who made her living as a communicator, would be hard pressed to put into words what the woman in her arms meant to her. When they were kids they called each other soul sisters, and she had yet to come up with a better way to phrase it. What else could you call someone you grew up with, fought with, cried with, depended on? Even after all these years Natalie had never felt closer to another person.
The crushing embrace went on and on, Natalie not wanting to let go until she registered the presence of the girl watching them. She pulled away from Tootie to take Tisha by the shoulders and get a good look at her. She was so grown up! Tootie emailed pictures all the time, but up close and personal was a different story. At 11, Tisha now came up to Natalie's chin and she was starting to resemble her father more than her mother. (Of course Tootie's bleached hair had something to do with that.)
While Natalie hugged the smiling girl, Blair and Tootie exchanged arch air-kisses and coos of "You look fabulous!" Then Natalie administered a sloppy kiss to Tisha's forehead, turned and gathered Tootie and Blair into a three-way hug. Everyone was giggling. Natalie worried she might actually start to tear up, especially when she thought of their absent fourth.
Again on cue -- no wonder she was an actress -- Tootie asked after the missing cop.
"Working." Blair shrugged as if to say, c'est la vie.
"You're kidding." Tootie's smile slipped.
"She's coming up tomorrow. Now..." Blair clasped her hands together. "What do you say we take a ride down to the school? I know it's been forever for you two."
"Ooh, shotgun!" Tears forgotten, Natalie scurried back to the sofa for her handbag, then followed Tisha and Tootie to the door, where all of them were stopped in their tracks by the voice of a certain blonde who had barely moved an inch.
"Um, girls?"
Natalie and Tootie looked at each other, then at Blair. The lawyer was gesturing to her long, snug black skirt and high heels, which combined to keep her pace glacial. The two younger women went back to their friend and each took an arm.
"One cannot run in Manolo Blahniks," Blair protested.
"You can't run at all," Tootie retorted as they hustled her to the door.
If only Jo were here, Natalie thought. She could just throw Blair over her shoulder and carry her out to the car.
PART THREE
Typical Blair, Natalie thought affectionately. Always has to make the grand entrance.
She had barely had time to react to Raymond Garrett's presence at the inn's front desk -- apparently he was the manager now? -- when her old friend had glided down the stairs, dressed to the nines and gesturing dramatically. Natalie could practically hear the orchestral accompaniment.
"Hi, Blair." She grinned and opened her arms. Blair came in for a peck on the cheek but held her body just out of arm's reach. She was wearing a white wraparound shirt with feathered cuffs -- actual, bird-type feathers, from the look of it, and didn't want to ruffle them. Natatlie was having none of that. She pulled the blonde into a hug and squeezed.
"It's so good to see you," Blair enthused as they parted.
"You look fantastic."
And she did. The same killer figure, the same perfectly highlighted hair, the same well-moisturized skin. Blair was probably going to look just like this at 46, 56, maybe even 66. If Natalie didn't love her so much, she'd hate her.
"Thank you. I think so too."
They both laughed. This was usually the part where Jo showed up with a snarky remark to take the wind out of Blair's sails, and Natalie instinctively looked over the blonde's shoulder. But there was no one in sight but Raymond, who was busy carrying Natalie's suitcase in from the doorway. The common room had a sitting area with two armchairs, a sofa and a coffee table all situated in front of a fireplace, which was empty at the moment in deference to the moderate temperature outside. Large windows let in plenty of sunshine, showing off furnishings that Natalie guessed were all brand new -- she had stayed here once before, years ago, and had a vague recollection of being unimpressed by the decor.
"This is really nice, Blair." She raised her arms to indicate the room. "Classy, but not too much. You know, I half expected you to turn this place into the Taj Mahal."
Blair beamed at the compliment. "Oh, I wanted to, but Jo wouldn't let me."
"What a stick in the mud."
"I know!"
They giggled again.
"Not that I'm tired of you already, but is Tootie here yet?"
Blair shook her head, her expression understanding. She knew that Natalie and Tootie, once inseparable, hadn't seen each other in the flesh in over five years. Blair and Jo lived in Manhattan, which was also the address on Natalie's driver's license, so even though she spent far more time out of town than in it now that she worked in international news, she had managed to see them a little more frequently. It was nothing short of a miracle that the entire group had been able to swing Thanksgiving week off at the same time. Well, Mrs. Garrett's time was her own, so that was easy, and Blair's job as chief in-house counsel for Warner Industries obviously gave her a lot of leeway with her schedule. Natalie, Tootie and Jo were the ones who'd had to beg, borrow and steal to make time for this reunion. But it was going to be so worth it.
"Any minute now, I'm sure," Blair said.
A teenaged boy in a shirt and tie came down the stairs. "Ms. Warner, the ceiling in Room 8 is leaking again."
"What? Raymond, I thought we had that taken care of." Back behind the desk, Raymond shrugged apologetically, and Blair frowned. "Well, can you please do something about it?"
He gave her a blank look. The boy went over and pulled a toolbox out from under the counter, sliding it toward the older man wordlessly.
"Oh, thank you, Sam," Blair said.
"Tools," Raymond said.
Natalie suppressed a snort at his uncertain expression, one that made him look every inch the CPA, even though he wasn't practicing anymore. "Get Jo to do it," she said, prodding Blair gently in the shoulder. "She hasn't lost her touch, has she?"
Blair schooled her expression into neutrality. "She's not here."
"What?"
"She had to stay in the city. Crime never takes a holiday, you know." Her tone was artificially cheerful. "She'll be here tomorrow."
"Aw, man. I can't believe it."
Flapping one hand dismissively, Blair took Natalie's elbow with the other and guided her to the sofa.
"I just dodged that bullet myself," Natalie said as they got comfortable. "My slave-driver of a boss called this morning with some B.S. about needing my 'special talents' on a segment that isn't coming together the way he'd like. Funny how when I ask for more time or more resources I'm just another producer, but when he wants something, suddenly I'm indispensable. The linchpin that holds the network together."
"How did you get out of it?"
"Just told him no way. I've been on the road for five months. I would have insisted on a break even if this reunion wasn't etched in stone." Briefly, she wondered if Blair was angry at Jo for not putting her foot down. The cop's absence had not been part of the plan. Truth be told, Natalie was a little angry herself. Why does she always have to be so damn responsible? Yeah, yeah, I'm sure the streets of the Bronx need her more than the back roads of Peekskill, but still. This week was supposed to be locked in!
Blair obviously didn't want to dwell on it. She asked about Natalie's latest travels, which led to a discussion of Blair's upcoming trip to Dallas, also work-related. Before long Natalie found herself slipping into a familiar role: letting Blair do most of the talking and making most of her contributions to the conversation in the form of questions. Natalie had always found other people's lives fascinating. What intrigued her the most about Blair's were the incongruities. The girl who had sworn to marry money -- as if she didn't have enough of her own -- had ended up with a police officer, the daughter of a cocktail waitress and an ex-con. Even without the gay angle, that was huge. Not that Blair had traded "Material Girl" for "All You Need is Love." You only had to look at what she was wearing to know that.
Or this inn. As Blair recapped in detail the challenges she'd faced during the renovations, the many difficult choices she'd had to make (as if her entire personal fortune was staked on whether the floors were walnut or mahogany), it occurred to Natalie that an outside observer might accuse Blair of organizing this reunion just so she could show the place off to her friends. But if you'd known her forever like Natalie had, you knew that wasn't true. Not just for that.
"For the record, are you sure you won't let us pay for our rooms? It can't be good for business to turn people away for a full week like this. Especially with the holiday."
Blair waved that off. "Being booked solid is nothing but good for business. It's a surefire way to generate buzz. Like how they keep people on line in front of nightclubs. The illusion of popularity inevitably leads to the real thing. Besides, I wanted us to have the place to ourselves. Just family."
As if on cue, there was a shout from the doorway: "Natalie! Blair!"
Shrieking like a kid on Christmas morning, Natalie shot out of her seat and ran to meet Tootie halfway. "Tootie! It's really you!"
The youngest of the former roommates dropped her daughter's hand so she could put both of hers on her hips and fix Natalie with an admonishing look. "Come on, now, you said you'd try."
Natalie skidded to a stop. "Oh -- Dorothy. I'm totally trying." She couldn't resist a second longer and threw her arms around her friend. "Old habits die hard."
Tootie (as Natalie would always think of her, no matter how badly she wanted to lose the nickname) hugged back, good and hard. It was bliss. Natalie, who made her living as a communicator, would be hard pressed to put into words what the woman in her arms meant to her. When they were kids they called each other soul sisters, and she had yet to come up with a better way to phrase it. What else could you call someone you grew up with, fought with, cried with, depended on? Even after all these years Natalie had never felt closer to another person.
The crushing embrace went on and on, Natalie not wanting to let go until she registered the presence of the girl watching them. She pulled away from Tootie to take Tisha by the shoulders and get a good look at her. She was so grown up! Tootie emailed pictures all the time, but up close and personal was a different story. At 11, Tisha now came up to Natalie's chin and she was starting to resemble her father more than her mother. (Of course Tootie's bleached hair had something to do with that.)
While Natalie hugged the smiling girl, Blair and Tootie exchanged arch air-kisses and coos of "You look fabulous!" Then Natalie administered a sloppy kiss to Tisha's forehead, turned and gathered Tootie and Blair into a three-way hug. Everyone was giggling. Natalie worried she might actually start to tear up, especially when she thought of their absent fourth.
Again on cue -- no wonder she was an actress -- Tootie asked after the missing cop.
"Working." Blair shrugged as if to say, c'est la vie.
"You're kidding." Tootie's smile slipped.
"She's coming up tomorrow. Now..." Blair clasped her hands together. "What do you say we take a ride down to the school? I know it's been forever for you two."
"Ooh, shotgun!" Tears forgotten, Natalie scurried back to the sofa for her handbag, then followed Tisha and Tootie to the door, where all of them were stopped in their tracks by the voice of a certain blonde who had barely moved an inch.
"Um, girls?"
Natalie and Tootie looked at each other, then at Blair. The lawyer was gesturing to her long, snug black skirt and high heels, which combined to keep her pace glacial. The two younger women went back to their friend and each took an arm.
"One cannot run in Manolo Blahniks," Blair protested.
"You can't run at all," Tootie retorted as they hustled her to the door.
If only Jo were here, Natalie thought. She could just throw Blair over her shoulder and carry her out to the car.