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    A Surfeit of Dreams
    A Surfeit of Dreams
    A Surfeit of Dreams
    Ebook303 pages4 hours

    A Surfeit of Dreams

    By Jay Greenstein

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    About this ebook

    A chance meeting with a beautiful woman has left Cathy Carling despondent, and nursing a bruise to the cheek—wondering why she must get by with a half-measure of beauty, and if she will find the perfect man or have to settle for Mr. Barely Acceptable.

    But today, an encounter on the commuter-train has Kathy wearing a magical ring. And tomorrow she will wake to find her fondest dreams of beauty have come true—and learn that perhaps there truly is, too much of a good thing...or perhaps not. It all depends on who takes your picture.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJay Greenstein
    Release dateOct 31, 2013
    ISBN9781310424236
    A Surfeit of Dreams
    Author

    Jay Greenstein

    I'm a storyteller. My skills at writing are subject to opinion, my punctuation has been called interesting, at best—but I am a storyteller. I am, of course, many other things. In seven decades of living, there are great numbers of things that have attracted my attention. I am, for example, an electrician. I can also design, build, and install a range of things from stairs and railings to flooring, and tile backsplashes. I can even giftwrap a box from the inside, so to speak, by wallpapering the house. I'm an engineer, one who has designed computers and computer systems; one of which—during the bad old days of the cold war—flew in the plane designated as the American President's Airborne Command Post: The Doomsday Jet. I've spent seven years as the chief-engineer of a company that built bar-code readers. I spent thirteen of the most enjoyable years of my life as a scoutmaster, and three, nearly as good, as a cubmaster. I joined the Air Force to learn jet engine mechanics, but ended up working in broadcast and closed circuit television, serving in such unlikely locations as the War Room of the Strategic Air Command, and a television station on the island of Okinawa. I have been involved in sports car racing, scuba diving, sailing, and anything else that sounded like fun. I can fix most things that break, sew a fairly neat seam, and have raised three pretty nice kids, all of who are smarter and prettier than I am—more talented, too, thanks to the genes my wife kindly provided. Once, while camping with a group of cubs and their families, one of the dads announced, "You guys better make up crosses to keep the Purple Bishop away." When I asked for more information, the man shrugged and said, "I don't really know much about the story. It's some kind of a local thing that was mentioned on my last camping trip." Intrigued, I wondered if I could come up with something to go with his comment about the crosses; something to provide a gentle terror-of-the-night to entertain the boys. The result was a virtual forest of crosses outside the boys' tents. That was the event that switched on something within me that, now, more than twenty-five years later, I can't seem to switch off. Stories came and came… so easily it was sometimes frightening. Stories so frightening that one boy swore he watched my eyes begin to glow with a dim red light as I told them (it was the campfire reflecting from my ...

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      Book preview

      A Surfeit of Dreams - Jay Greenstein

      Jay Greenstein

      Jay Greenstein

      All rights reserved

      Published by Continuation Services at SmashWords

      Copyright 2013

      Other Titles by Jay Greenstein:

      Science Fiction

      As Falls an Angel

      Samantha and the Bear

      Foreign Embassy

      Hero

      Monkey Feet

      An Accidental War

      Starlight Dancing

      Wizards

      Trilogy of the Talos

      (Sci-fi)

      To Sing the Calu

      Portal to Sygano

      Ghost Girl

      Sisterhood of the Ring

      (Sci-fi)

      Water Dance

      Jennie’s Song

      A Change of Heart

      A Surfeit of Dreams

      Kyesha

      Abode Of The Gods

      Living Vampire

      (sci-fi)

      An Abiding Evil

      Ties of Blood

      Blood Lust

      Modern Western

      Posse

      Romantic Suspense

      A Chance Encounter

      Kiss of Death

      Intrigue/Crime

      Necessity

      Betrayal

      Hostage

      Young Adult

      My Father My Friend

      Romance

      Zoe

      Breaking the Pattern

      Short Story

      A Touch of Strange

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      This novel is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious and created by the author for entertainment purposes. Any similarities between living and non-living persons are purely coincidental.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      ° ° ° °

      Kathy hurried across the intersection, weaving her way through the stalled traffic. As she stepped onto the sidewalk she checked the time. Four minutes left to reach her desk. No time for a coffee stop.

      As she traversed the sidewalk toward the building she moved away from the curb to allow the passenger of a cab parked at the curb to exit, then stopped. The passenger was a woman, one who pushed such things as being late for work from her mind. Dressed in shades of tan and cream, wearing a suit that had to cost more than she made in a month, the woman might have stepped from the cover of a fashion magazine. The woman was, she noted with a surge of envy, exquisitely beautiful in a way that insured that every man she passed would turn his head to watch.

      Forcing herself into motion once more, she followed the woman toward the building. Her dress and movements were, obviously, intended to catch and hold a man’s attention—and did that quite effectively. But she was ignoring that attention. And given the effort that must have gone into her appearance, that made little sense. Apparently, she accepted such adoration as a right—bringing speculation as to where someone acquired such skills. Such grace and sophistication would take years to perfect.

      Slowing her own pace to match the woman’s, she mirrored her movements, or tried to, with limited success.

      Moving with a conscious and unhurried grace, the woman approached the entrance with perfect confidence that the man reaching for the door would stop and act as a doorman for her.

      He did, pulling the door open and bowing her through, obviously pleased to have an opportunity to observe her from so close, and to breathe in the fragrance of her undoubtedly expensive perfume. He muttered, My Lord, as he hurried through the doorway after her. She wouldn’t be interested in a commoner such as he, but he probably hoped to share an elevator and have a few moments more in which to lust after her. Casually, he released the door, closing it in Kathy’s face.

      Unfortunately, she, too, was distracted and didn’t notice the discourtesy, resulting in a face-first introduction to the closing door, which sent her reeling into the man behind her, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

      In balance once more, she muttered an apology and headed through the door, pulling her skirt down in the back as she went, to arrive at the elevator just as the doors closed in front of the woman and a group of obviously pleased males.

      For a long moment she reflected on the afflictions she might wish on her. But wishing evil on someone she envied, and who she wished she could be, was foolish. So, with a sigh, she clamped down on the pangs of self-pity that threatened to ruin the day.

      As the elevator finally lifted to her floor she reflected that life was anything but fair. That woman had been given enough beauty for six, while she had to make do with a half measure. With a shake of the head at the inequities of life, she checked the time. Late again.

      Morning, Zee, she said, dropping her purse on the desk. I like that outfit. Is it new?

      Morning, Kathy. Wait till you hear.... Her voice trailed off, the smile of welcome replaced by a frown.

      My God, what happened? You look like you were attacked.

      What?

      Zena pointed to her cheek. Did you lose the fight?

      Her hand went to her cheek, without thought, bringing a twinge of pain as her fingers touched the tender spot where the door made contact.

      I suppose I did, she said, distractedly.

      Kathy! Zena exploded, frown deepening. Don't play games with me. Were you mugged? Your cheek’s bruised.

      She forced a smile, as she tabled the subject of the woman and her beauty and refocused on the world.

      Nothing that serious. You might say a beautiful woman gave it to me. Movement at the doorway of one of the lawyers’ offices caught her eye, and after a moment of surprise, she pointed. That one, in fact. The woman was apparently visiting one of the firm’s lawyers.

      Zena turned in the direction indicated. "Her? She hit you? Her expression hardened. Kathy! she said, her voice rising. Come on...cut the bullshit. I’m supposed to be your friend, remember? What really happened?" The beginnings of worry showed in her voice.

      She shrugged and slid her purse into a desk drawer as she said, It was my fault, Zee. I was busy wishing I was her when I should have been watching where I was going, so I walked into a door. She looked up to stare intently at the woman for a moment, then turned back to Zena. Maybe she knew the answer.

      Zee, what the hell’s wrong with me? I know I’m not pretty, but I’m not ugly either. Why can’t I get a man to pay attention to me the way they do you? What....

      She cut herself short as she caught sight of Biddy Marlane. Muttering a warning to Zena, she slipped into her chair and turned on the computer.

      Ignoring the other secretaries, Biddy was headed toward them. Not welcome news.

      Her arrival was accompanied by the heavy, almost chemical, scent of her perfume—as usual, at war with the medicinal smell of her mouthwash, a particularly unpleasant combination. But also as usual, Kathy pushed her feelings aside and gave her supervisor a bright, Good morning, Miss Marlane. How are you, today? With luck, the woman would stay on the other side of the desk and not notice that the computer was just booting up.

      Biddy sniffed the air audibly, and frowned, as though detecting the faint odor of sloth. Her tiny crepe paper mouth twitched, as it always did when announcing the coming of a grand pronouncement. Good morning ladies, she said, in a voice that no man would ever find melodious. Amenities completed, she said, Miss Carling, I am afraid that as of today, you are to be temporarily reassigned to a new area. She held up a hand to forestall any response. This is not my wish, Miss Carling. I detest this shuffling about as much as do you, but vacation time is upon us once again, and I need someone who I can trust to take over another desk for a time.

      She acknowledged the order, but made no response that might trigger yet another lecture, on the fact that as far as Biddy was concerned, vacations were an annoyance that should be eliminated, and that she hadn’t taken a day off in thirty-five years. That accomplishment might be a source of pride to her, but a few days without her oppressive presence would be welcome—probably by everyone who reported to her. The reassignment wasn’t a surprise, though, given that the lawyers she serviced would be on vacation for the next two weeks.

      With a sigh, she said, I’m glad to help, Miss Marlane. Where would you like me to work? She put enough subservience in her voice to, hopefully, avoid the lecture that usually ended a visit by the old lady.

      The strategy must have been successful, because Biddy’s eternal scowl of disapproval moderated a bit, as she said, You will be working in the contracts department, Miss Carling. The firm’s continued expansion has made it necessary to employ an additional attorney there...I assume you know where the contracts department is located? She nodded, and Biddy consulted a notepad, before adding, That being the case, a Miss Risa Scarfield is commencing employment this morning, and until we can secure someone to assist her, I require someone experienced to guide her into the proper office decorum. Both tone and expression said Biddy didn’t approve of the firm’s choice in the hiring of the new lawyer.

      She said nothing, but based on Biddy’s past comments, she’d never accepted the idea of women as lawyers, and thought of even the new male graduates as no more than children playing in their fathers’ office. The woman wore nothing but a severely cut white blouse and dark skirt. Had she a say, none of the firm’s lawyers would be under fifty years old, all would be male, and each would wear a gray pinstripe business suit.

      Before leaving, Biddy fixed her with a glare, as she said, And see to it that you do not give her any false ideas about punctuality. With that, she turned and sailed off on her next errand of cheer.

      That’s what happens when you stay a virgin too long, I guess, Zena said, maliciously, as the old woman passed from sight. She looked sourly at the empty doorway for a moment, then abruptly turned back, voice apologetic, her hand waving a negation. I’m sorry, Kathy, I didn’t mean you might....

      I know what you mean, and I agree with you. My condition is temporary. Hers is chronic. She shook her head. "Can you imagine any man wanting to go to bed with her?"

      Zena smiled. Mr. Crookshank.

      She turned her head to stare at Zena. Henry Crookshank, our old typing teacher? Old touchy-feely Crookshank?

      At Zena’s affirmative nod, she gave a little shiver of disgust, saying, Zena Charles, you have to be the most disgusting person I have ever known.

      Why thank you, so good of you to notice...I think you better get moving, though, before you attract her majesty’s attention again. I’ll see you at lunch.

      ° ° °

      Ready, Kathy?

      She looked up, startled, to find Zena in front of her desk.

      Oh, hi, Zee. Is it that time already? She gathered up both her purse and scattered wits. A glance at the clock showed that she’d been brooding on romance, or rather the lack of it in her life, since the departure of her lawyer, some ten minutes before.

      Not good. The opposite sex was a subject that, though deliberately pushed away, seemed to be been steadily claiming more and more of her thoughts. And today’s incident at the entrance to the building served to bring it into focus.

      More than just time, Zena said, a little testily. Everyone else has already gone downstairs. I just hope Sheila can talk the hostess into giving them a table with two empty chairs. You know how busy Silvie’s is this time of day.

      I’m sorry, Zee, she said, unable to shake the black mood. I was busy with the new lawyer for most of the morning and lost track of the time. I thought it was only a little after eleven. She slipped on shoes, neatened the desk, and followed Zena to the ladies room.

      So, how is she? Zena asked, over her shoulder.

      She shrugged. Risa? I’m not sure yet. Have you seen her?

      Zena shook her head. No, why?

      She thought for a moment. Drab would about cover it. Tall and drab. But nice, I think. She’s still excited over having her own office, and talked my ear off for most of the morning.

      Zena pushed through the door to the ladies room, saying, So Kathy, what’s the latest in your battle with the monster in the next apartment?

      Mrs. Scott? Don’t remind me about her. She peered into the mirror for a moment, not happy with what she saw, then said, At this point, If my lease was up soon, I’d probably move, just to get away from her.

      Zena touched her arm in sympathy. That’s really tough. I’ll help kill her if you like. At her smile, she said, How’d this thing between you get started, anyway?

      Who knows? Nobody in the building has any use for her. I tried to put up with her for a while, but I guess she finally noticed that I was clenching my teeth to keep my mouth shut whenever she went on about how cheap Jews were, or how you can’t trust Italians. You can’t argue with someone like her, so I didn’t bother to try.

      Yeah? She said that? About Italians? I’d have kicked her ass into next Sunday if she said—

      Which is why I make it a point to keep you away from her, she pointed out, as she rummaged through her makeup kit in search of lipstick. Anyway, I think it came to a head when she tried to tell me I couldn’t wash my bathmat because the sign over the washer says, ‘No rugs.’

      She tried to stop you from putting it in?

      She shook her head. No, she didn’t try to stop me, she saw it in the machine, and came to my apartment to give me a lecture. I—

      She pawed through your laundry? Zena waved her hands in a stop motion. She had the nerve to do that? What a miserable bitch! She shook her head in disbelief. So, what did you tell her, other than to piss off?

      She inspected her face, then slipped the lipstick tube back into her kit and zipped it shut as she said, "I finally lost patience and let her have it...but good. Among other things, I told her to mind her own business, stay out of my laundry, and that if she had something to say about anything I do, to take it up with the landlord. Since that time, she’s kept away from me, but she’s been spreading lies about me to the neighbors. She looked more directly at Zena as she added, Of course what you said the last time you were at my place didn’t make things any easier."

      Zena waved the remark away, as she headed for the door of the ladies room. So I lost my temper. She asked for it, remember?

      How could I forget? How could she?

      Zena dismissed that with a snort, then frowned, as she asked, So, what kind of lies is she telling about you?

      Mrs. Scott’s remarks weren’t worth the time it would take to relate them, so she dismissed the subject with a shrug and a wave of negation.

      So, it’s war?

      Not unless she pushes it further. Most people in the building avoid her, and no one believes her lies, anyway. I just wish she’d move out.

      Silence for a moment, before Zena, in a thoughtful voice, said, I would have beat the crap out of her, I think, to let her know I meant business. I’m surprised you let her have it, though. You’re usually a peacemaker.

      Usually, she admitted, pressing the elevator’s call button. But not this time. People like her confuse courtesy with weakness. I avoid a fight when I can, but I won’t let someone walk all over me.

      That’s one of the reasons I love you, Zena said, with a squeeze of assurance. You have more sense than I do. Less excitement in your life, maybe, but a lot more sense. My big mouth will probably get me killed one of these days.

      Zena’s remark about the lack of excitement in her life served to remind her of the unresolved questions that had been troubling her, but the elevator doors had just opened, and a crowded elevator wasn’t the place for such a discussion.

      ° ° ° °

      Chapter 2

      Zena stood on tiptoes, peering over the shoulders of those waiting to be seated. Then, raising her voice in order to be heard over the discord of a restaurant in the midst of the lunch-time rush, she pointed and said, Over there in the corner, Kathy. They managed to get seats for us, too.

      She nodded understanding, too busy enjoying the symphony of mouth-watering aromas to comment.

      As usual, Silvie’s, was filled to overflowing with the lunchtime crowd. They happened to serve the best hot-beef sandwich in the city, had reasonable drink prices, and boasted a menu that catered to a wide variety of tastes. That combination of happy facts made Silvie’s the favorite of many of the center city business people. It also meant that the restaurant’s waiting area would be busy at almost any hour of the day.

      Pushing their way through the crush of people, they took a shortcut through the bar, passing through just in time to see Frank Kahn, the office Lothario.

      Zena noticed him first and nudged her, taking her arm to bring her to a halt. Don’t stare, Kathy, but the hunter looks to be on the prowl.

      Where? Following the direction of Zena’s nod, she found Frank Kahn on a stool at the other end of the bar. He did, indeed, seem to be watching someone, though she couldn’t locate the object of that attention. Interested, she followed Zena’s lead and melted into the edges of the crowd at the bar’s entrance.

      Over there, I think. Zena indicated the proper direction, then leaned close to whisper. He’s lying in wait for someone, and I think it’s her.

      Frank Kahn was a living example of some of the worst traits possible in the human male—a view universally shared by the other women of the office. It wasn’t that he hit on anything female and available. His lack of respect, or even recognition of his conquests as human beings, brought a snort of disgust in response to Zena’s comment. From what she heard of his exploits, he thought of women as no more than a series of mobile sex organs, to be used and discarded.

      Now, Frank’s eyes were hungrily tracking a mildly attractive young woman on her way back from the ladies room.

      Looking away as the woman neared, he waited until she’d passed him, then swiveled his seat away from the bar, calling, Sally? Sally Castorman?

      The woman turned to see who’d called to her, polite interest showing in her expression.

      He stood, then, his face the perfect mixture of pleased surprise, saying, "My God, how are you? I haven’t seen—"

      She had to admire the man’s acting skills. He seemed so sincere when he broke off suddenly—as he usually did at this point—his voice smoothly apologetic and both hands raised as if in surrender, palms to her in apology.

      My gosh, I’m sorry, miss. You look a good deal like Sally Castorman. He cocked his head to one side, studying her closely, finally shaking his head in apparent amazement. It’s astounding just how much.

      She’d heard enough, and with a snort of disguise, nudged Zena into motion. The rest of what Frank had to say was lost as they passed into the dining room and more important business—that of getting themselves seated and attracting the attention of the overworked waitress.

      Zena placed the remains of her sandwich on the plate and wiped her hands. She tapped her spoon on a water glass to gain the attention of the others at the table, then announced, Okay, today happens to be a special day. We are not...I repeat, not going to take apart the morals of the office staff, or even discuss the state of everyone’s love life, because we have something far more important to discuss.

      Sheila Marks laughed. Such as whether you got laid this last weekend, right?

      I did, as a matter of fact, Zena smirked. And he was wonderful, too, but that’s not what’s important today. I—

      What? Zee’s telling us her love life isn’t important? Sheila feigned hysteria as she said, Quick, Kathy, call the newspapers. The world is ending and hell is freezing over!

      Zena, who usually spent most of Monday’s lunch discussing the latest man in her life, sounded exasperated, as she said, Come on, you guys, give me a break. This is important. We have to find Kathy a man. She’s starting to lose it! She went on to tell the story of what happened that morning, including her question as to why she couldn’t seem to find a man.

      Sheila shook her head. I sure know how she feels. I could use a good man, myself. I seem to have a talent for finding the other kind. That generated a murmur of agreement, followed by Sheila’s final comment of, It’s the decent ones I’m not very good at finding, so if you know how to get one, Zee, talk. I could use the formula, myself.

      Amen to that, put in one of the others.

      Zena waved that away, saying, "Forget about decent. There are no decent men. They don’t come that way, believe me. Besides, Kathy’s problem isn’t finding a decent guy, it’s to find any guy at all."

      Heat rose in her cheeks, advertising her embarrassment where everyone could see, but she was powerless to do anything about it. Zena was brash, of course, and occasionally crude, but also warm, considerate, and a dear friend, so this betrayal left her unable to respond meaningfully. She gave serious thought to bolting for the ladies room. But that would be cowardice. Perhaps ask for a blindfold?

      Apparently noticing her distress, Sheila caught Zena’s eye and gave a small shake of the head, for which she was grateful, and grateful again when she said, This might not be the best time, Zee. Her eyes flicked to Kathy and back to Zena, in warning that she wasn’t taking it well. She wasn’t, and prayed that Zena would take the hint.

      Zena, after a fast glance in her direction, placed a hand over hers, squeezing it as she turned to the others. Come on now, we all know I have a big mouth, but this lady has a real problem, and it’s up to us to fix it. She turned back to Kathy, still holding tightly to her hand. We all love you, honey, she said, seriously. Don’t forget that. Hell, it’s more than that with me. You’ve been my best friend since we met, and I love you a lot more than I do either of my sisters, okay? This is no big deal.

      She nodded mutely, though she couldn’t agree to it being a minor matter.

      Zena continued, turning to face the others, as she said, "Kathy told me that stuff this morning—about not finding a man—and I've been thinking

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