Perfect Lady, part 1
by
Michelle Wilder

Change comes in many ways, each one pushing, following, hurrying more change.
Sometimes, someone else does the pushing. This is a story about hard changes, and gentle, caring pushes.
I've published this before, here.

The story:

Richard Carter was very surprised when he was offered a second interview, and in California, expenses paid. After the first, seven weeks earlier, he'd been sure his chances were nil, though he knew he was qualified. He also knew that he'd been ~very~ nervous during the interview. Both days.
The second interview was less formal than the first. In fact it was very relaxed and he was much more confident that his fears weren't interfering with his responses.
A week later he was offered the position.
His letter of resignation was a relief to all concerned. His employers did everything they could to make his departure comfortable.

---

He stopped for a moment outside the tall glass doors in the tall glass wall. It was a gorgeous, intimidating wall, very high tech, very beautiful. It was also utterly different than the regular, predictable office building in which he'd worked back east.
He looked down at himself and hoped again that he was acceptably dressed. He always wore suits. He understood suits. They weren't very high tech. They were almost old-fashioned... or his neatness seemed to be... but they let him put up a facade, a comforting facade.
Mr. Delaney had worn jeans at his first interview, the second day. The ~CEO~. But he'd walked out. He hadn't been at the second. Richard had worn suits to both interviews. Some of the other interviewees hadn't.

The dress code basically said 'don't wear dirty stuff.' His suit was new, tailored, and ~very~ clean.

A long-haired man reading a manual of some kind walked by, inside. He was wearing hugely baggy cut-off jeans and a tiny knit cap.
Richard looked down and smoothed his beautiful suit one more time and sighed. And pulled the door open.

The lobby was empty again. It'd been empty when he'd been shown around after the last interview. There was a kind of receptionist's desk but it didn't look like it was even used, not even a phone on it. A huge clock that was mostly high-tech sculpture decorated the wall above the desk. He was fifteen minutes early.
He knew that this was the core of the company, where the ideas happened, and it was an idea company. But it still seemed odd to have deliberately located it miles away from the business offices. Mr. Delaney had said during the first interview that it helped keep the 'creative process focussed.'
It seemed odd to have a receptionist's desk that wasn't used. He couldn't see what process that helped.

Mr. Delaney had thrown some very creative questions at him during that interview, Richard remembered. Before he'd walked out, that same morning... He hoped he'd get to know him better.

There was a noise from the left and the man himself, Mr. Delaney, came into the lobby, smiling his famous smile at Richard. The way he'd smiled when they first met, the first day.
Just from that, Richard felt welcome. Safer. He even stopped worrying about how he was dressed. He didn't think about that until later.
The men with him all smiled too, though more reservedly, out-shone by Mr. Delaney.

Mr. Delaney reached him, his smile getting bigger, if that was possible, and reached out to take Richard's hand in both of his and gently press it. Richard was caught off guard, but felt... something better.
"Richard! It's wonderful to see you again! Welcome! Did you have a nice flight in? Are you settled? Of course not... Are you at least well-rested? Good! Can you handle a little tour and a few introductions and re-introductions today?"
Richard thought he must have looked a little overwhelmed by the barrage, but Mr. Delaney just smiled at him and released his hand to turn him to his companions. Richard recognized them all from the second interview. Mr. Oliver from both.
Keeping his elbow, Mr. Delaney put his hand on the shoulder of the young thirty-something blonde man to his left, and continued dominating the conversation. Richard tried not to smile at the thought.
"Richard, you remember Bill Sissler, chief of new product research."
Mr. Sissler shook Richard's proffered hand and smiled. "Good to finally have you on board, Richard. Barry's been running on about you for weeks and we're all hoping he can calm down now that you're here."
Richard had been prepared for 'hello.'
He did manage a shy nod and smile. "Thank you... it's good to... be here."
Barry then gestured to a somewhat overweight, heavily bearded man who might have been forty. Or fifty. Or twenty. Richard knew he was thirty-three.
"And you may remember meeting Henry Russell, too, our chief of software development. Henry, Richard Carter, our new connection with reality." Barry put his hand on Richard's back.
"Good to see you again, Richard. Welcome." Henry leaned towards Richard from the waist and shook his hand with a soft, warm, and somewhat moist grip. He smiled widely enough to have it show through his mustache.
"Thank you. It's good to see you again too." Richard smiled broadly in return, feeling much more comfortable with the familiar greeting. Even if Barry's hand was flustering him. Scaring him a little, too, but not too much.

Barry then steered him around to the third man, Mr. Oliver. A little younger than the others, he had stayed a few feet to the side. He was wearing the closest thing to a suit the foursome could boast, a comfortable-looking sport jacket over a t-shirt and new-looking jeans. And high tops. But even just the jacket made Richard feel a little easier about his own look. Barry pressed his back a little more firmly for a moment.
"Sam, you remember Richard Carter?"
Something about the way Barry spoke made Richard glance over. Barry was smiling back at him. Like he was proud or something.
"Richard, if you don't remember, Sam is the creative genius who figures out how to package our crews' ideas into marketable doohickies and stuff. Really, he's the company that we put on the shelves. He's also my oldest friend."
While Barry talked, Sam looked Richard up and down. Richard remembered that he had been the toughest interviewer. Not unfair, but very perceptive and challenging. He'd also been the one who scared him the most, though that feeling wasn't there any more. He stepped a bit closer to shake hands, almost too firmly, but his smile held genuine warmth.
"Sam Oliver. My department actually has a hundred and twelve certifiable geniuses. All I do is translate their ideas into company-speak. And correct Barry's spelling. Welcome to the corp."
His voice was lovely, Richard thought, surprised he hadn't noticed before. Professional, melodic. He forgot to do more than smile.

Barry took Richard's arm and, chatting away, led them all into a comfortable lounge, where they took seats around a coffee table that was already set with assorted drinks and pastries. When he had poured or passed out coffee for everyone, he sat down with his own.
"Richard, I wanted to start your first day here by re-introducing you to the heart of the firm and letting us get to know you a little better. Sam, Henry, Bill and I basically started the company and we're going to be the men you deal with on the big issues." He turned to the three division heads.
"As you know, Richard has the Olympian task of ensuring everyone in this complex gets paid, benefits are provided, regulations met, and that all our prima donnas are happy. He'll also be our main connection to the personnel services in that miserable rabbit warren downtown."
He turned back to Richard, who understood that that speech was mostly for his benefit. But he appreciated the formality. It gave him time to feel... to reassure himself. Barry continued.
"But as I hope the hiring process made clear, I want you to be much more than a bureaucrat. I want you to manage your time and work with one priority ahead of all the others: I want you to be approachable, and human."
He smiled.
"We were very impressed with your credentials and got nothing but positive reports during the selection process, but we hired you because, besides your competency and experience, we liked you."

He smiled even more, just at Richard. Like he liked him.

He switched back to a stronger voice, speaking to all of them.
"Richard has the skills and experience to manage the whole B Tower operation, but they already run themselves, and Mrs. Trudeau does an excellent job managing our... whatever... paperwork and everything here.
"I want Richard to manage our people, so don't let your managers nickel and dime him with the routine department stuff that's already getting done anyway.
"His job is making sure this a good place for us all to work." He smiled at Richard.
"I want this to be the place we will all love to come to, every day. Where everyone wants to come, even on their day off." Mr. Delaney smiled even more broadly as he finished. Like he was... something more than being boss was there.
An answering grin started to take over Richard's face even though he tried to keep a professional mask on.
"I... I think..."
He re-thought what he meant to say, and then looked at the four men with a wide smile.
"Sorry. I'm still having a little trouble getting my head around your... organizational vision... and that you hired me...." He turned to his new boss and, for some reason, blushed.
"Mr. Delaney, I'll do my very, very best. I think you've created my dream job."
The smile his new boss gave him ~then~ made him even redder.

Everyone touched each other. Thinking about it, in New York, Richard could remember whole weeks where a couple of perfunctory handshakes or a shoulder bump in a hallway were all the human contact he had.
Mr. Delaney had touched him a dozen times in just... minutes. It was a pleasant change. But different.

His office consisted of a private suite with the usual desk, a very nice casual seating area, a really well-provisioned coffee bar, and a private washroom with a shower, a little different than usual.
Mr. Paul Kelvin, his executive assistant, had worked in B Tower before this week. His office was outside Richard's, open to the spacious common area through a glass wall.
Mr. Kelvin also wore a suit. Richard smiled as they shook. It was the first real suit he'd seen besides his own and he suspected Mr. Kelvin had worn it to make him feel comfortable. He appreciated it too.

The main HR area consisted of a small cubicle farm managed from another private office by Mrs. Rachel Trudeau, a woman who had been with the company almost since week one and who had participated in his last interview. She also supervised the senior clerks who were the tip of the HR iceberg in B Tower.
Richard was technically ~her~ supervisor, head of HR, but his mandate was to... make a good workplace. He still found himself smiling about that, when he thought it.

Casual introductions to all of his staff took almost an hour and he thought that Mrs. Trudeau seemed annoyed at the interruption, though she smiled warmly at him when he finally excused himself to explore his own office. He was glad she was a woman. Glad her annoyance hadn't frightened him. Glad to shut the door.

As he'd promised, Mr. Delaney came by a little after noon and "stole Richard" for lunch downtown. Everyone smiled at them, especially Mrs. Trudeau.
Richard was pleased that it was an office where people really smiled. Especially at the CEO's lame humor.

Mr. Delaney, after stopping and begging Richard to ~please~ call me just Barry? linked his arm with Richard's and led him through and out of the offices to a surprisingly plain car, opening and carefully closing the passenger door for him as well. Richard felt like he was being treated like a VIP instead of the new junior executive. It was a nice feeling.
The car, which had been idling, was already pleasantly cool.
"I'm afraid our interview process was seriously flawed in your case, Richard." Barry smiled as he slid in. "I have no idea what you like to eat."
Richard's pulse had spiked as Barry's door shut, but his humor calmed him, even relaxed him.
Barry put his key in and started the car rolling as Richard began to think about how to answer him. And about a hiring process that could possibly include that. Some of the high-pressure questions... "Are you now or have you ever used a condiment!?"
Barry asked what he was smiling at, and then made him tell. And then told him he didn't get it... before laughing.

They settled on a restaurant that a grinning Barry said had a reputation for very good condiments and that wouldn't make them too late, though they were allowed, since he ~was~ the boss....
Richard smiled at the only real contributions he had made to the selection: a joke, and no drive-throughs, please. He cringed at the thought of those condiments on his brand new Hugo Boss.

They chatted about Richard's still unfurnished apartment and what car (with remote start) he might buy, and lots of what Barry liked in a car, and ~this~ car, and his last car... until he pulled into the curved driveway of a beautiful 40s or 50s-style nightclub.
The retro-uniformed doorman opened and held Richard's door for him while Barry got out and came around. Valet parking at lunch. Richard looked around and spotted several limos, wondering how much a bowl of soup ran to here? Then again, his boss had personally netted over $200 million last year, according to to the WSJ....

Barry touched his back again and guided him inside to the lobby.
"For two, please?" Barry asked the tuxedoed and ~very~ serious maitre d'. When they reached a booth, Barry waited for Richard to get settled before sliding in himself.
"Would you gentlemen like to order drinks?" Their already-there waitress smiled at each of them, placing menus.
Barry smiled at Richard. "I happen to know they make an ~excellent~ cup of coffee here?"
Richard smiled and nodded and Barry turned to the waitress and smiled. "We'll both have coffees. Thank you."
"Thank you. I'll be right back." She smiled and left. Richard noticed that there weren't any prices on his menu... yup, expensive. He had to smile at the affectation. And wondered what a ten dollar cup of coffee would taste like.
"Something funny?"
Barry was smiling, and looked like he had already decided, since his menu was folded.
"Oh, no, just... everything looks good. What would you recommend?"
Barry described a few of the items on Richard's menu, his face changing with the memory of each taste, smiling a dozen different ways.
Richard watched him enthuse away and thought that one of the reasons he was so successful must be simply his love of life. Barry was a hard man not to like. He'd liked him at their first meeting, months ago. He realized that he ~did~ like him....

"Well?"
He had to look twice to see what 'well' meant. His boss was apparently waiting for a decision, but smiling. The waitress was back, and smiling at him too. Well....
"Umm... What are you having?" He pretended to look at the menu in more earnest. Barry laughed. The waitress almost giggled.
The trout for Richard, pasta for Barry, and the coffee was better than promised. While they waited for the food Barry asked how he liked his office?

It was a business lunch, but about being happy. Happy at work. About what made Barry happy, and Richard. During a quiet moment, Barry smiled at a memory.
"When we started up, we used to actually live in the office... we started out in a big rental house. It was all software then, Bill was working on chip design, kind of as a platform, but back then... never mind. But those were the best..."

Richard just let him talk. Barry was passionate about his work, about work. He saw it as art, as play. The money just came.

"Did you always... Do you always have a goal in mind?"
Barry looked surprised, as if at an interruption, though Richard had spoken quietly, during a long pause.
"Do you always know where where you're going?"
Barry smiled again as he understood the question. Then he blushed, for some reason, and looked at his plate for a moment.
He looked up again, all over Richard's face, and spoke as seriously as he had all day.
"I guess, but as often as not we come up with a different... result, I guess, than we started out looking for. A better one, too. And it's fun. It's fun to... spin off in new directions. Create. And I want them to have fun."
Richard thought about that.
"Is that what you want me to do?"
Barry grinned from ear to ear and looked in Richard's eyes.
"Yes. I want you to have fun. Very much."

Rachel, Mrs. Trudeau, was a supremely competent woman, as Richard had expected. He wasn't needed in her department at all. She also turned out to be a good friend. She introduced her husband Stuart and one of their two almost-adult daughters to Richard at a home-cooked meal the first week he was there. Stuart prepared and proudly served the gourmet meal.
Paul Kelvin turned out to be an outgoing, intelligent man who could anticipate many of Richard's requests and usually had potential solutions and resources already lined up. After a few days he admitted that the requests were pretty obvious, since Richard often thought out loud. He had also adjusted his habits to prevent startling Richard every time he came in the office, tapping very quietly, even on an open door.

On Friday of his second week there, Paul told him that he was gay and that he was out to only two people in the whole company, and Rachel was outside.
Richard asked why he'd told him, and Paul smiled.
"I couldn't think of a single reason not to."
Richard didn't know why he got choked up, but Paul told him it was okay and patted his back.

He explored. Asked a lot of questions. Butted in and apologized, but still butted in. He actually felt safer and safer... even being the one to speak first, or to approach people. Men. It had been a long time. There were women, though a minority, but it was the men who had... who had scared him, at the beginning.

Everyone was polite, and even treated him with deference. He realized that nobody had slapped his back too hard, or crushed his hand, or elbowed him, or told a deliberately dirty joke to him.
It was day and night compared to his last workplace, but the men treated him... with care.

Perhaps because Barry always did, he noticed that people, men and women, almost routinely opened and held doors for him. And smiled when he did the same for them, often chiding him and telling him he didn't have to do that, but ~thank~ you... and smiled even more.
He'd even be invited to sit for lunch or a break with the male technicians and engineers and programmers, and they would hold a chair for him and get him coffee and make sure it was prepared just right: black and ridiculously sweet... fast becoming a little company joke.

He talked with everyone he could. About what they did, about their lives, about being happy, or sometimes... unhappy. Occasionally, things moved to his office, and more and more often, people came to his office to see him.
He began to get new ideas, explored a few, filed several for future consideration, branched a few off... Along with Paul and Rachel, he hired some new people.

He had lunches with Barry at least twice a week, and sometimes with each of the division heads.
Most days he ate with Paul or Mrs. Trudeau in one of the local eateries, or in the lunchroom with different people from around the building, often the women in the HR department. Barry often stopped by.

One Monday morning, Paul stepped in, very business-like.
"Richard, there's someone here to see you. Do you have time?"
"Yes, of course, Paul. Please send them in." Richard closed his work and stepped out from his desk as Paul ushered in a nervous-appearing man Richard recalled meeting up in Sam Oliver's department, design and interface... something. He stepped over towards the couch and armchairs.
"Richard, this is Mr. Oscar Jackson. Oscar, Richard Carter. Can I get either of you something to drink?"
Mr. Jackson and Richard settled into the chairs while Paul poured coffee, and after he'd prepared them to everyone's satisfaction, asked if he should stay.
Mr. Jackson looked like he was uncomfortable, and with a twitch of eyebrow Richard signaled that he should go. Paul quietly closed the door.
"Mr. Jackson, what brings you here today?"

They talked for over two hours, eventually bringing back Paul and then including Rachel. Then, after calling ahead, Richard went to see Barry. He was shown right in and waited for the door to be closed before approaching Barry's desk.
He sat in front of his friend for a moment and prepared. Again. He'd hardly said hello, and Barry had picked up on his mood, not interrupting.
"Mr. Delaney, an employee, five years with us, needs to have his partner grandfathered into the full health benefits package so his family's needs can be covered immediately. It's considerably more than what he's technically due. I think we should do it. It will cost the company, but it's important for him, them, and I think for us. For the firm."
Barry thought for a few moments.
"Why?" He looked and sounded like he was still thinking.
Richard tried to stay calm, professional. His heart was pounding and his armpits were cold, wet.
"He didn't register his partner because he was afraid people here would, um, belittle him, or, or... abuse him. We have a same-sex inclusive policy and benefits, but based on, on his experiences... here... he felt that it wasn't worth the risk when the normal time... to sign up for coverage... came. To tell anyone he was gay." He took an unsteady breath.
"Now his spouse is very ill and they're seriously under-insured, and going broke. In part, it's our fault."
He shook, though he'd spoken clearly.

Barry's face went very, very neutral. Grim. He turned in his swivel chair and spoke without looking at him. Richard's chest and face felt cold, tight.
"You're sure of this? The situation?"
Richard nodded, then said "Yes."
Barry sighed. Then he stood up and... seemed to think before he moved... and turned to the windows instead of Richard. Turned away.
"Can it be done today?" Barry spoke to the window.
"We can get it done today, and thank you, Mr. Delaney..."
"Not yet."
He stayed facing away. And silent, for a few moments longer. Then he spoke quietly. His voice was tight.
"I'll call you in a few minutes... with the decision."
Richard had to work hard to control his emotions on the way back, sure that his relationship with Barry had been changed forever. Afraid, for the first time in weeks. He'd been so cold.

Paul took the call fifteen minutes later: approved. Richard's heart eased a little.

Rachel assigned department personnel to finish preparing the in-house documents and Paul acquired or generated outside forms and applications that had already been identified.
Paperwork was completed, couriered, signed and registered. Richard made calls to the legal and finance departments, and cheques and waivers were authorized and issued.
Leo Teller would be fully covered for his medical needs.

After the last papers were finished and handshakes exchanged all around, Richard and Oscar remained in the office.
Oscar looked like he wanted to cry again, and Richard held his hand.
"Please give our best to Leo, and keep us informed on his progress?"
Oscar nodded, like he would. It made Richard think of something important.
"Would you like to call Leo from here? It might be a little more private? And I think nobody will be upset if you leave early?"
Oscar just nodded again, too quickly, and Richard left him alone.

It was nearly five o'clock when Richard knocked quietly on the door frame. He was proud of the work his department had just done, but the fear was back.
He already mourned the loss of Barry's warmth. He was already resigned to working in a hard place again. He knew it was irrational.
"Please, come in."
Barry got up and walked to the door even after Richard had closed it himself. Then he walked with him back to his desk, and around to his own chair, but didn't sit down. He looked at the desk. Richard didn't sit either.
Barry looked at the top sheet of the sheaf of papers Richard had put on the desk.
"So, what's the cost?"
He sounded... odd.
Richard had expected that, sooner or later. It was a business. The language of people not being people. He recited the basic figures in a dull tone.
"Today, about $65,600 in total, a combination of penalties and back-dated fees, and our premiums on predicted immediate claims from unbilled... services... already received. And about $3,000, internal personnel costs."
It was expensive, for one person, for one day. He didn't want to sound apologetic, but was afraid he had. He was glad he wasn't shaking any more than he was.
"After that he'll represent the same cost to the company as similarly insured employees."
"Expected... benefits?" Barry sounded neutral. Still business.
"Most probably over a quarter million, if the recommended surgery is successful and extended chemotherapy becomes necessary. A bare minimum of two hundred thousand, treatment and time off, covered benefits, over five years. If he..."
Barry made a face. "Were they going to get... treatment? Pay that?"
Richard looked down. He couldn't keep the pain out of his answer. He knew it was unprofessional.
"They were... arguing. They knew it would ruin them... it ~was~ ruining them, and Mr. Teller... his partner, wanted to wait...."
He looked up at his boss. Barry. Mr. Delaney, now. He'd sat down and was looked at his hands, folded on the desk.
"They planned to sit out the twelve months, the... waiting period, before benefits. His... Mr. Teller... might have been dead by then, and his cancer would certainly have been... far further..."
"Did you confirm that, his partner, did, that he actually has... this cancer?"
Barry's voice was very flat. He looked strained. Stressed. He kept his gaze down. Not looking... at him. It was the same question he'd asked before. But more formally.
"Yes, sir." Richard had to keep to the script, explain. Not react.
Mr. Delaney made a small movement, but didn't look up.
"Mr. Jackson had their hospital paperwork, the file, with him today, and all the... various, um, doctor's billing, and... diagnosis and treatment records, prescriptions... Our carrier called several of the clinics to obtain billing data, with their, Mr. Jackson's and Mr. Teller's permissions."
He looked at his boss as steadily as he could manage.
"Mr. Delaney..."
Mr. Delaney closed his eyes, and Richard had to take a breath again.
"It was ~my~ request that we grandfather their coverage. Mr. Jackson just... asked me for help... he wanted help, dealing with his application and... any... homophobia, he might... encounter." He had to look down. He had to hide his eyes.
"He didn't ask us... for all this...."

Mr. Delaney took several deep breaths. Then he got up and beckoned Richard over to the couch and waited until he sat. Then he sat beside him. He still didn't really look at him.
Richard started to feel afraid, not just loss. Sitting beside him and feeling like it was too close. Mr. Delaney was too big.
Mr. Delaney spoke quietly, looking at the wall, the floor. Richard still jumped.

"I don't know how I would've coped, knowing that one of my employees lost a partner, or... that his... loved ones... were suffering, because of... prejudice, here. That I could have stopped."
He looked down. His hands held fast to each other.
"It's already happened."

Richard listened for more. He listened again, inside. He put his hand on Barry's arm, though it was so frightening it hurt.
"You couldn't know that. And you helped them, more than you needed to. More than you're required to. You can... work, to make sure any other employees in similar... situations... are okay...."
He squeezed Barry's arm. Apologized, too late. He let go. His insides were knotting in pain from the fear, this close.
"I'm... I'm sorry, that I brought this to you as a crisis, that I asked you to deal with it like I did... I'm sorry I asked for more than what we had to do... that I did that..."
"Richard, no. No."
Barry took Richard's hand from his lap and pulled it to his chest. Richard looked up from the hand and Barry wasn't looking at him like he'd feared. He was hurt, but not at him. There wasn't anger there. No danger. His chest tightened again, different.
"I might cry a little tonight, but I'll sleep better. Thank you." His eyes were bright. "How long have they been, dealing with... with the cancer?"
He looked right in Richard's eyes.
"Over a year."
Barry looked down, and didn't say anything for quite a while, but his hand tightened on Richard's, hugged it harder.
"Okay."

They sat another minute or two before Barry released his grip and stood up. He turned and offered his hand again and helped Richard up and then kept his hand, folding it in both of his, like he did.
"Thank you, again. I'll make sure this is made right, and... try to make sure it doesn't happen again."
He looked awkward, like he didn't know how to move to what he'd just said. It lasted several long heartbeats.
Then, hand on Richard's arm, he walked to the door.
"What you did, to make sure Mr. Jackson was helped, means a lot to me. I can't say."
Richard looked at his boss, Barry, the same way he had looked at him that morning, and then gently hugged him, patting his back. He could only whisper.
"Thank you."

Because he knew Barry wanted to be alone, he hurried out, and into the nearest men's room.

Barry called at eight that evening, just to make sure he was okay, and to thank him again. Richard was barely able to hide the strain in his voice, but he quickly recovered. They talked for a while, about other things, and Richard thought they both felt better. He sure did.

The next day, as soon as he'd arrived, Barry asked Richard if he wanted to go out for lunch and when he said he would, Barry got most of his old, beautiful smile back. Paul and Rachel were happier, too.

It was a hard few days, the moments when Richard was alone and afraid, again. It went away, though, and everything was better.

A week later, Barry stopped by Richard's office.
"You rang?"
Richard had to laugh, but he was in a really good mood, and laughing was a good thing.
"I rang, but ~I~ was supposed to go see you." He stood up and was about to offer a drink when Paul tapped on the door and came in with a carafe and mugs already arranged on a tray.
"Oh, good, please come in Paul. Barry, Paul knows this stuff much better than I do." He indicated the data they'd been analyzing.

When they were all settled, Richard addressed his boss. Serious business, good news.
"Barry, last week we went through Mr. Jackson's entire file. He had an exemplary record here, attendance, performance, initiative, and several notes from supervisors commending him for his work.
"Starting a year ago, predictably, this began to slide and he had several unexcused absences, including one there was job action for."
He held up his hand. His fingers, anyway.
"I've repaired his record. I've spoken with his supervisors and Sam Oliver, and explained, without details, that there were extraordinary circumstances and that in the future consideration might be given to making time with his family more flexible."
Richard smiled. "Sam has some very, very good people working for him."
He could tell Barry was thinking, and waited, knowing he wouldn't keep it inside. He didn't look upset, just thinking. It was wonderful to feel free to watch him.
Putting down his mug, Barry sat forward.
"Why wasn't this pattern caught?" He looked at Richard and Paul, both.
"Nobody noticed? I mean, that was a big change. Sam would've seen it."
"They did notice, and asked. Even Sam interviewed him about it, but he was afraid to tell them the reason, and didn't want to lie, so he gave them no real reasons at all."
It was frustrating. But it was better now. He could see that Barry wanted to talk more about Oscar.
"But what I wanted to show you was a larger pattern Mr. Kelvin and Mrs. Trudeau found..."
He turned it over to Paul.

Barry Delaney walked through the building after the meeting, his face serious. He finally headed up to design.

"Mr. Jackson?"
The man looked up, and paled a little.
Barry immediately put on a somewhat strained smile. "It's good to see you. I just wanted to come around and ask your opinion on something." He looked up, over the workspace.
"Would you like to go into one of the meeting rooms? That way I can spread some of this out." He hefted the paperwork he was carrying.

With the door to one of the floor meeting areas closed and the irrelevant files placed on the table, Barry sat down with his employee.
"Mr. Jackson, I'm very sorry about the troubles you and your partner have been going through. I hope things are looking a little more positive now, and want you to come to me or Mr. Carter any time we might be able to help you further."
He looked embarrassed at the official-sounding apology. Mr. Jackson looked relieved.
"May I call you Oscar?"
At his nod, Barry continued.
"Oscar, I need to know... want to.... Why did you go to see Richard Carter, when you did? I mean, I understand that your partner has been ill for some time, and that you've been having a hard time financially, for a long time, quite a few months, so why... Mr. Carter, and why... why last week?"
Oscar blinked. Then he looked very serious and spoke quietly, watching Barry.
"Are you acting in his best interests?" He looked Barry in the eye.
Barry nodded, but then looked down and thought before he could look up and answer again. It seemed an odd.. an oddly phrased question. His best interests.
"I'm really trying to... I hope so."

Oscar looked at him for a long time, then nodded.
He looked at the files on the table, and at his boss, the owner of the company, a near-billionaire. He sat for quite a while. Then he spoke quietly.

"It's been better around here, for the past month. Lots better. Nobody tells fag jokes any more, and people care about that, now...."
He looked at Barry like he was assessing him, or what he would say. Barry just listened.
"I went to Mr. Carter because he struck me as a good person, a truly moral person."
He looked at his hand, and then into Barry's face.
"He gave me a hug, in his office. And he cried when he heard about Leo..."
Barry nodded. He tried to keep looking at Mr. Jackson.
"But you went to... him... not...."

Oscar nodded.
"Okay. Something happened. I was coming into the building last month, about two weeks before..." Oscar looked down.
"Mr. Carter was walking ahead of me and this guy I know here ran up, ran past me a few steps, and opened the door for him."
He looked right at Barry's face.
"I thought that was odd, and then Mr. Carter turned and smiled that big way he does and, well, he touched his arm, you know? And said something like 'Why, thank you!' like he does?" He looked at Barry, like he was expecting something when he imitated Mr. Carter.
"Anyway, the guy was all smiles?" He nodded at Barry's nod. Barry smiled, too.
"So the guy was standing and looking at him walk away so I asked him what he was smiling about and y'know, he looked at me and said, 'He's a real lady.' And he smiled at me like it was funny, but not a joke, you know?"
He looked at Barry and his smile was gone.
"He wasn't kidding, or making a joke or insulting Mr. Carter; he was complimenting him. And I've ~never~ heard a man compliment another man by saying he was a lady before."
He looked like he was going to add something, but stopped. Then started again.
"I went into the company website and looked him up, and checked out some of the blogs and boards. I showed Leo, and after a week we decided it was worth the risk. It was still... hard."
He looked at Barry again, thinking again. Then he lowered his voice.
"I don't think... I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but... are you gay, Mr. Delaney?"
Barry shook his head. "Not really."
"Mr. Carter isn't, you know?"
"I know." Barry nodded again. He looked away to hide his face.

Typing 'Richard Carter' into the in-house search engine ran up an impressive number of hits, thousands, of which about a hundred were... relevant.
All were complimentary, except, apparently, some early postings on a gossip DB that had been deleted and followed by multiple rebukes and sys-op warnings about respectful policy infractions. Several newer topics had been started from those comments, about homophobia at the office. Still, some entries were almost two months old on those threads.
One of those raised the question of transsexuals, as different from gays and lesbians. In particular, one 'R.C.'
That thread and some of its offshoots dealt with creative change. There were comments from Oscar Jackson, Paul Kelvin, Rachel Trudeau, and... he counted... seventy-seven others.
After a little hacking, he determined that Richard Carter had probably never logged onto the discussion boards. Ever.

Barry called an executive meeting. The board of directors were also invited, and most attended.
Richard's team's recognition of problem patterns and extenuating factors was discussed, along with the success of the process.
The handling of the (name withheld) benefits case was discussed in some detail.
Homophobia in the company was discussed, and the talk wound its way to the discussion boards.
The fact that several people seemed to have identified Richard as potentially transgendered was brought up by Sam, referencing the intranet discussions that Barry had read.
That the speculation about Richard had so far been extraordinarily supportive was also noted and considered. Some resources were identified for consultation. Several of the board members asked Barry about what ~he~ wanted to do.

Barry repeated the story he had heard from Oscar, about the doors. He somehow felt like it would mean more than he could otherwise express.
Both Bill and Henry reported similar anecdotes, as did a board member. How Richard touched people when they needed it, including hugging. How he sometimes cried, more than others expected, but not really, for some reason. How he 'talked softly and carried a big smile.'

They talked about what they thought might be best for everyone. Further changes were agreed to. And further precautions.
It was the second extraordinary executive meeting that had primarily focussed on Richard Carter.

Two days later, a warm Thursday morning, Richard walked through the building to his office, mentally reviewing his day's plans.
He arrived before Paul on most days since he didn't have to fight the freeway but, unusually, Rachel was not at her desk.
He found her instead in Paul's office, looking at a very large, multicolored bouquet of roses, beautifully arranged in a cut-glass vase.
"Wow!" He walked closer and leaned in to smell them. He loved the fresh, cold smell of roses.
"Wow indeed." She smiled and pointed to a little paper square on the desk. "They're for you."
"What? Really?" A spike of anxiety shivered through him before he remembered it was safe. He picked up the envelope with a shaky hand and it indeed had 'Richard' written in a flowing script. He pulled the little card out.
"I don't know who..."
"Well, someone?" Rachel was as curious as he was, so he showed her the card and she read it out loud.
"To a lovely person."
She stood up straight and smiled as she patted his hand.
"Well, whoever it is is a good judge of character. You ~are~ a lovely person."

Richard watched her as she left and wondered where that came from, even as he smiled at her compliment. He took the flowers into his office and, after considering it, centered them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

While he was pouring his first morning coffee, Paul arrived and knocked even before taking his jacket off. As soon as Richard smiled, he strode in.
"Hey, Rachel wasn't kidding!" He bent over and took a long sniff and then beamed a huge smile at Richard, who poured a second mug. "They're beautiful! Who sent them?"
"Well, that's the question." He handed Paul a steaming mug and then sat down carefully, sipping and admiring the flash of color they added to the room. He patted the couch beside him.
"A secret admirer? You have no idea?"
Richard grinned and shook his head as he sipped, and almost dribbled.
"Oobs... Nope, not a clue. But I might start putting flowers in here more often. I love the color, and the smell really is heavenly, too."
After wiping his mug with his napkin, he sat back and smiled at them.
"Better than TV."
Paul sat back and admired the blooms. Then he noticed the card on the table and looked a question at Richard, who grimaced, but nodded. Paul looked and smiled even more.
Richard smiled back. It was a great way to start a day, he thought. Minus whatever Paul was about to say.

"Knock, knock."
Richard smiled at Barry, who was paused in the doorway.
"Good morning! Would you like a coffee? It's just fresh." He made to stand but Barry motioned him back and went over to pour his own.
"So the rumors were not exaggerated! Wow! Who are they from, if I might ask?" When he finished he sat in one of the chairs and looked at the bouquet with them.
If Paul had been a little girl he would have giggled. As it was, he made a small humming noise and grinned. At Richard. Richard made a face back at him like he was being a pain, then smiled at Barry.
"The card didn't say."
Paul snorted. "Oh, come on..."
"Well, it didn't! You're turning into a nag, you know." He smiled again at them both. "It was anonymous."
"It said..."
"To a lovely person." Barry read from the card, which was open where Paul had put it back on the table, open. He looked up and smiled his dazzling way.
"I couldn't agree more."
Richard had no idea what to say to that, again, but Barry saved him by getting up and sniffing at the display before putting his mug back on the bar.
"Well, I have a meeting to attend... not all of us lead lives of flowers and mystery."
He came around and sniffed the flowers one more time.
"Could I have just one for my desk?" He teased a rose at the bottom of the bouquet and looked inquiringly at Richard, who smiled and nodded.
"Of course you may. I think I like them too. I'll have to get more when these start to wilt."
"Maybe someone will send some more."
Paul did his musical hum again while Barry smiled and Richard reddened.

A week later, there was another bouquet. The card read 'A dear heart.'
Barry asked for one of those as well, and also carefully pinned a bud to Richard's lapel so he could smell it all day. All of the management executives came by to see. The bouquet.

People called Richard over so they could chat, to introduce him to their friends, and so they could shake his hand, or touch his shoulder. He felt like the office was a happier place than it'd been even a month ago.

Two more employees came to see Richard to come out as gay. Three came about gay children, just to talk. Nobody had been told about Mr. Jefferson. Nobody even knew of that incident.

Barry continued to invite Richard to lunches, and the Board of Directors hosted a luncheon meeting to which the executive, including Richard, were also invited.

Mrs. Trudeau's quarterly report showed a late spike in costs related to insured benefits, and a significant drop in absenteeism. There was a net improvement in personnel costs. There were several excellent department reports as well.

There were two bouquets on Paul's desk on Monday morning. The card for the smaller one, a dozen yellow roses mixed with carnations, said 'Thank you.' The other, a gorgeous arrangement of several dozen deep red roses, read 'With Love.'
Barry asked for one of the red roses. Over twenty people came in during the morning to admire them and congratulate Richard, who didn't know what to say.

Barry stopped in very early the following Monday. There were two displays of flowers again, a small 'Thank You' bunch of mixed flowers and an elaborate bouquet of peach roses. The card read 'Beautiful flowers for a Beautiful Heart.'
He smiled his most extravagant smile at Richard when he read the second card. Richard blushed. Paul hummed.

On his way out, after having shared a coffee with them, Barry stopped behind Richard's shoulder as he passed the couch.
"Are you free to go out for dinner some time this week?"
"Oh..."
Before he could decide what to say, Paul reminded him he had a meeting late on Wednesday.
"Then how about Friday? Would you?" Barry moved his hand to touch Richard's back. "Please?"
It was difficult talking to someone who was touching his back. A man touching his back. Barry touching his back.
"I'll even wear a suit?"
Paul snorted as Richard squeaked a funny laugh. Barry softly slapped his arm.
"What?! I have suits. I wore one on Larry King! Remember? He said I looked uncomfortable. And I wore one to my sister's wedding just last summer."
"What did she say about it?" Richard asked, trying to keep the grin out of his voice and spoiling it by twisting around to see Barry's face.
"She said I looked dashing." He put a hand on each of Richard's shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze as he turned him back around.
"It was my mother who said I looked uncomfortable."

Richard agreed to dinner on Friday, if Barry would promise ~not~ to wear a suit. He really couldn't imagine him being at ease in one, and thought he might even be uncomfortable in new running shoes until he managed to scuff them up.
Barry looked pleased. He actually looked incredibly happy.
"Good! Well, I'd say, 'until then' but I hope to see you a few times before then."
He sort of power-walked out, sniffing a peach rose.

The week passed quickly. Three more employees were identified as having unexplained patterns of deteriorating performance. Two accepted supportive counseling. One refused to talk about it.

By Friday morning the peach bouquet was looking a little the worse for wear and its perfume had faded, though it hadn't disappeared entirely.
Richard took the flowers out of the vase and laid them on a serving tray from the bar. He thought they looked rather artistic, still elegant in their fading colors on the side table with his printer. He put the clean vase with them.
Still life with a laser.
He smiled about that one all day.

At four-thirty Paul went over the next week's appointments and reminded him of his dinner date with Barry. Richard smiled back.
"Like I need a reminder. Barry's mentioned it every time I've seen him."
He lost his smile as he gathered the wilted flowers and put them gently in the garbage. He'd liked having them, that bouquet especially.
Paul noticed his expression and he tried to smile it away.

He was ready, sort of...
After thinking about it for almost an hour he'd decided he just couldn't wear a suit if Barry wasn't going to be in one, not to dinner, and had settled on charcoal grey suit pants and a pleated white tuxedo shirt without a tie, open one button at the neck. One stud, actually.
It was comfortable, and he looked okay, he supposed....

He felt wrong. He didn't know how he was supposed to act, what to do with his hands, and his shoulders felt bare. It made him worry about too many things.
In the mirror, the him in the mirror, he thought he looked foolish. He thought about changing the shirt, again. But all his other dress shirts looked bad, worse, without ties. Or jackets. He felt stupid. He wanted to put on a suit. He wanted to feel secure again.
He had casual shirts, but he didn't want to be casual. He didn't know why, but he actually wanted Barry to just see him in suits. He understood them, what they meant. And Barry had complimented him on his suits.

He finally decided on the shirt.

He sat and started wondering where Barry was, before he noticed that it was only just seven. He was due... the lobby buzzer went off... at seven.

He keyed the intercom, said he'd be right down and at the last moment remembered his wallet. He'd taken it out of his suit jacket from work. Like always. On the hall table. Even if dinner was Barry's treat. The whole wallet made his pants feel lopsided. He took a few bills and a credit card out instead. Better. His keys spoiled the lines in the front. He took off just his apartment key, pocketed it alone.
He had part of what he took, wore, other days....

Nothing was complete.

As the elevator doors hissed open, Barry looked his way and smiled. He was wearing very nicely cut slacks, loafers and a button-up shirt. It looked dressy, for him.
"Good evening, Barry," Richard smiled. "You look very nice!"
He got the smile he expected.
"Well, you look positively casual!" Barry looked a little closer at the whole outfit. "A tux shirt?"
Richard looked down at himself, afraid again.
"I tried on half my closet..." He tried to hide his discomfort at that admission. He felt stupid. And hurt that Barry had said that. Afraid.
Barry took his arm and headed them off through the lobby.
"Well, you definitely broke out of your rut. There's probably a even a few restaurants in town that'd refuse you service, looking like that. I'm proud of you!" His car was at the curb in front and he opened Richard's door. "Maybe even a club or two!"
He held the door as Richard got in, and as he closed it he joked, "We could always go to a drive-through...."
He was laughing as he got in and started the car. Richard was quiet.

A block down the road Barry seemed to realize something was happening.
"Richard, are you okay?"
He pulled over to the curb and parked, turning to Richard, who was turned away, and so stiff... and Barry heard himself, remembered what he'd said.
His voice was tight, almost cracked.
"I'm sorry. I was teasing you and didn't mean it. You look very nice... I'm sorry..."

Barry put a hand on his arm. Richard flinched, and he didn't even know why. Yes, he did.
Barry took his hand away. Good, and awful.

"Look. We don't have to go out and eat if you don't want, but you look great. I was being a clown, and not... I was being an ass. I'm really sorry, and, and I'd still like to take you out to dinner, if you'd like, but you don't have to."
He must have seen that Richard was near tears. Richard heard the release of his belt, felt Barry turn in his seat. Then he put his hand on Richard's back. His shoulder.

He tried not to move away.

"Please listen?" Barry pulled his hand back as if he had caught himself. Richard hadn't moved.
"We can go back if you want. I'm sorry I teased you that way. I think you look marvelous tonight. I was just surprised to see you like this, and made a joke of it. It was wrong, stupid of me."
He saw the glitter of a tear and sagged back before Richard turned completely away, to the window.
"I'm sorry, Richard."
Putting the car back into gear, he was about to pull out when Richard spoke in a shaky, quiet voice.
"I'm sorry...."

Barry put the car back in park and rounded on him. To his back.
"No, you have nothing to apologize for. I insulted you and then made a joke about it and..."
Richard shook his head.
"I made fun of your clothes in the office and you, you're a... I'm not very secure, I guess...."
Barry almost got mad at him. Richard could feel it in his grip on his arm. In his grip. Not painful, but hard, like...
He almost screamed when Barry spoke loudly.

"No, please! I was... it was nice that we joked about my clothes! Everyone does and I, I, it's just... who I am, and you were respectful and ~I~ was the one who brought up my suits, and... and I really think you're the most respectful person I've ever met."
He squeezed his arm.
"Please, Richard, talk to me? Can you tell me what's wrong!?"

---

Richard arrived on Monday morning a few minutes late, too tired to care. He stopped for a moment at the flowers on Paul's desk and then went into his office without touching them or the card.
There were three rose bouquets, pink, yellow and dark red. They were absolutely beautiful, identical except for color.
There was one card.
He hadn't smiled at Rachel. He hadn't even looked around, hadn't seen her.

He hardly looked up from the couch where he'd been staring at nothing. He didn't otherwise respond.

Rachel stepped hesitantly into the room.
"Are you alright, dear?"
It was the wrong thing for her to ask. Or maybe the right thing. Whichever, his shoulders jerked and he covered his face.
She'd seen him upset, and he knew from the gossip around the office that more... that people had seen him cry... but he was sobbing, hurting with every breath. In front of her. At work.
She quickly sat close beside him, gathering him into her arms.
"What is it? What's wrong, Richard? What is it?"
"H..."
Above her voice and the noise he was making, he heard someone.
Barry was in the outer office, staring at them with a stricken expression, and seemingly frozen to the spot.
Rachel paid Barry no attention and held on, rocking slightly.
He closed his eyes and cried his sorrow.

He regained control of himself, at least of his chest. He tried to breathe, to stop the heaving, and gradually succeeded, finally releasing his hands from Rachel's.
He turned away from her and then stood and took some napkins from the bar and mopped his face. The small activity seemed to help.
With fresh, dry napkins in hand, he returned to sit by her. He made sure his hand was dry and took hers.
"Thank you... I don't know... what...."
"Please don't, Richard." She looked hurt.
He had to look down in shame. He had a stain, a mark, on his pants leg, from his hand, from tears.
She clasped his hand more firmly. He trusted her. She was a good person. And he needed to talk. He needed what he offered to other people. It hurt, but he knew he had to talk. Like before, even though it hurt.
"I..."

He stopped and thought about what had happened. What it felt like, really. And if he wanted to tell anyone, ever again, about all the rest.
He looked at the empty coffee table and thought about the flowers outside.

Rachel had waited very patiently and he appreciated that. He needed the time. The whole weekend had been hard, but he'd felt much worse coming in.
The time was up.

"I didn't... have dinner with... Mr. Delaney... on Friday, because, I... I think I had a panic attack."
He said it very quietly and his voice was a little scratchy. She kept the same grip on his hand and waited some more.
He sat up and was able to look at her.
"I left him in his car and didn't explain. I think... I must have worried him terribly." He looked down again. He was quiet for a long time.

"Why are you so upset now?" Rachel sounded like Barry. He'd asked that.

He had to fight to keep from falling back into the tears that pressed behind his eyes. He came to work because he'd fought those feelings, and hated them. Hated them more than what might happen. He'd decided that. But he didn't want to burden Rachel with this, with his fears. He knew that wouldn't happen, really, that his fears weren't realistic any more, But it was real fear.

"Rachel?"
She looked a little better, and it lifted his mood.
"Can I hug you if I promise not to cry all over your blouse?"
She assured him it was washable even if he did.

Barry's executive assistant stepped quietly into the office and whispered, "Mr. Carter is here," and then ushered him in.
She was almost, and trying very hard to hide it, crying.
Since Barry's assistant was the most organized and professional woman Richard had ever met, her behavior would have seemed odd if he'd thought about it then. But he was feeling something very similar.

He tried to stand up straighter and stepped into the room and pulled the door quietly closed.
Barry stepped around his desk and put a hand out as if to shake, though he was still twenty feet away. He was wearing a suit. He'd been in a suit, the suit... earlier, though Richard hadn't noticed.
"Richard..."
"B-Barry." He cleared his throat. "I'm very sorry about Friday and want to apologize and explain, if I could?"
Barry stopped, and gestured towards the couch, then walked over and stood between the couch and a chair. And seemed lost.
Richard put out his hand for a shake as he stepped near, and then sat and pulled Barry down beside him.

They had each moved stiffly, at odds. Barry seemed to realize this as they touched. He kept the hand, the way he usually did, and turned slightly to face Richard.

"I'm very, very sorry about Friday." Richard started again, hoping Barry couldn't see his fear.
"It wasn't your fault. It was me. I had an anxiety attack, or..." He took a slow breath and looked up again. And squeezed the hand holding his.
"I was afraid I, that you would see..." He closed his eyes. "I only feel... okay... in a suit."
His fingers pressed Barry's and he ran down. Then he spoke again, softly.
"I... feel... like a man, then... less afraid..." He closed his eyes. "I know it's stupid... neurotic..."

Barry looked at him. He could feel his eyes.

"Richard?" He added his other hand. "I think I need to tell you some things."
Keeping his hand, he turned, touching their knees, making Richard look. He could see the anxiety in his face, the tension across his shoulders. Barry went on, quickly.
"I like you more than any man I've ever known. I respect you as a man and for your work and your heart. But it's more than that, and please don't think... please don't be mad at me?"
He took a breath, looked up. Richard knew he was wide-eyed. Barry held his gaze.

"You are the most caring person I have ever been privileged to know and I think that everyone here thinks that too." He looked down for just a second.
"I wanted Friday to be like..." He closed his eyes. "I think you... are... wonderful."
Richard's eyes opened even more for a second and then he ducked.
"I'm not..."
"You are. You've brought so much good to me. You've... I... I cherish you." He breathed deeply and sat up and pulled away, keeping Richard's hand.

"You're the light in my life."

Richard listened, almost... a few seconds slow, a few seconds after Barry had spoken, and tried to deny everything as flattery, hollow, meaningless. Because he knew he was nothing.

Until he really heard what Barry whispered, last.
"What?" He tried to sit up without losing the comforting arms. "What did you..?"
Barry smiled and relaxed, leaned forward, just so his shoulder touched Richard's. It was thrilling.

"I said you are the light of my life." He waited a heartbeat and kept speaking, sitting back a few inches and looking in Richard's eyes again.
"And I don't care what you wear." He smiled. "You always look wonderful, and elegant." His smile changed as he swallowed.
"You're a lovely person."
Richard's eyes flashed wide.
"You sent the flowers?"

He looked all over Barry's face, as if seeing a face for the first time. A face that was turning red.
"Not all of them." Barry pulled Richard's arm and rested it on his arm, gently clasping their hands. "Some of them."
"But..."
"I wanted to. Is it okay?" He smiled, because he knew Richard had enjoyed them. "I really liked seeing your smile."
Richard smiled.

Barry said they had to go back to his office to let the others know that he was okay. He was right, but it took a few minutes washing his face before he felt like he could walk through the hallways.

Barry's assistant looked stricken, but smiled when she saw their faces.

Barry beamed at him and took his elbow, like he did, but Richard stopped and pulled his arm away and slipped his hand around Barry's arm instead.
He caressed the suit material, smooth and expensive, a gentle touch. Barry usually wore short-sleeves.
"I really like your other shirts better."

End of part one