Chapter 27 How to Keep Up the Pretense?
Never in a million years did Fiorello expect that Maggie would have been at The corner of the Metropolitan Club too.
Fiorello felt a tightening in his throat as he asked, "Did you guys see the CEO of Visionary Futures Group?"
Maggie shrugged and said, "Nope, Dulcinea mentioned she caught a glimpse of someone from behind. Too many people around, she didn't get a good look. But just from that silhouette, she was all flustered. Is your boss really that handsome?"
Fiorello relaxed a bit and responded, "He's good-looking, but he's no match for your husband."
Maggie laughed. "Such arrogance! Be careful, or your boss might have it out for you."
Fiorello shrugged off the concern. "I'm a programmer. If things go south here, I can always find work elsewhere. Plus, our boss isn't the petty type."
Maggie couldn't resist probing further. "With all that money and good looks, why is your boss still single? Do you think he might have... unique preferences?"
Fiorello was silent for a moment, then quickly changed the subject, "Aren't we supposed to set up our stall by five? Is everything ready?"
"Oh yeah, almost forgot. I'll go get the goods now."
Thoughts of corporate CEOs were remote, not of her world. Maggie's focus was on earning her keep brick by brick, money nestled safely in her pocket was what mattered.
This time with Fiorello's help, the laborious task of moving stock fell on his shoulders.
All set, they headed out together to the night market on Elm Street.
Maggie had rented a stall there, no worries about city inspectors chasing her off.
She remembered her early days in the business, naïve and unprepared, caught by the city inspectors with fines paid and goods seized.
The panic and anguish had driven her to tears back then, too ashamed to even tell Arya when she got home.
She had soldiered through all the bitterness alone.
It was Fiorello's first time setting up a stall, and he was clueless. Maggie, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of efficiency, quickly getting the stall up, with the little table lamp casting a warm glow.
Looking at the small table laden with Maggie's handcrafted jewelry, Fiorello was struck by the sense of struggle and survival at the grassroots of the capital.
Fiorello looked up at the night market, which was bustling with activity. There was a string of stalls selling jewelry, mostly run by young women, and the competition was fierce.
In addition to the accessories, there were vendors selling clothing, household goods, and street food. It was a place where one could find almost anything they were looking for, always lively with customers.
The market was situated near several colleges, so it became especially bustling when classes let out.
The residents from the surrounding neighborhoods also enjoyed strolling through the market, adding to the large crowds.
Maggie took out a couple of folding chairs from the trunk of her car and handed one to Fiorello, "Here, sit on this."
Fiorello looked at the folding chair without saying much and took a seat.
It was a slightly muggy evening, so Maggie had also prepared a small fan and passed it to Fiorello. "Take this and use it to keep cool."
It was Fiorello's first time at the market, and Maggie was concerned he might not acclimate well, so she had brought along various items for him: a fan, water, snacks, and even a tablet in case he got bored.
Fiorello felt somewhat pampered and smiled, "You don't need to fuss over me."
Not only was Maggie conscientious, she was also cautious, worried that Fiorello might feel out of place.
Laughing, she said, "I just didn't want you to get bored."
She sat down next to Fiorello, and soon the owner of the neighboring clothing stall arrived. It was Christopher Evans, who, with a laugh, teased Maggie, "Is this your boyfriend? He's quite handsome."
Maggie was about to respond when Fiorello interjected, "I'm Maggie's husband."
There was a brief pause.
Christopher, who was almost forty and carried the weight of life's responsibilities on his shoulders, seemed taken aback. Was Fiorello feeling jealous? Was he that eager to assert his status?
With a smile, Maggie introduced them properly, "Christopher, this is my husband."
Christopher expressed his surprise, "Maggie, when did you get married? You never mentioned it before."
"Just, just recently," Maggie diverted the conversation, "Chris, did you come alone today? Where's your wife?"
Christopher Evans sighed. "She took the kid to the hospital again. Another bout of illness," he said. "Someone's got to be here to make money at the stall. If we lose a day, the rent's wasted, and the earnings aren't made. And no matter what, childcare isn't free."
In the most resigned tone, he shared the challenges of those at the bottom.
After the sigh, life had to go on.
Maggie whispered to Fiorello, "Chris's son has leukemia and they haven't found a suitable bone marrow transplant. The couple has spent all their savings on the kid and racked up a lot of debts. Now even friends and family are avoiding them."
Fiorello had never mingled with folks from the lower economic tiers. The topics in his world were investments and projects, often discussing projects worth hundreds of millions, far removed from these people's lives.
Yet there was an indomitable spirit in these people, no matter how tough life got, it couldn't bend their backs.
"With all the ill fortune that picks on the suffering, Chris's health isn't great either," Maggie reflected. "He's the main provider. If he falls, the family's gone. When I first started my stall I didn't know the ropes. It was Chris and his wife who looked out for me."
Even as they struggled themselves, they still had compassion for others.
Fiorello glanced at Chris, busy at his stall. "There's a saying, 'After hardship comes relief.' Things will get better for them."
He then turned to Maggie's stall and asked, "What can I do to help?"
"Just sit and wait for customers," Maggie steadied herself and replied.
Fiorello really wasn't experienced in selling accessories. The two sat together, making small talk. "On average, how much can you sell in a day?"
"About two hundred or so," she replied. "With you here today, being as good-looking as you are, which is definitely a pleasant sight, we might just sell even more."
Fiorello's lips curled into a half-smile, pleased with the compliment.
Soon, the sky darkened, and the crowd grew. Over an hour passed, yet Maggie hadn't sold a single accessory.
By this time, she would usually have made some sales and found this odd. Passersby would glance over at Fiorello, double-take, and keep looking back as they walked away but never approached.
Before long, Maggie pinpointed the issue.
She ran a business that catered primarily to young women, and Fiorello was just too handsome, sitting there stone-faced, exuding an air of cool detachment that seemed to suggest he was someone to be admired from a distance rather than someone to approach casually. The girls were all too shy, too intimidated by his good looks to come over and shop.
Maggie handed him a mask and said, "Fiorello, you should put this on; otherwise, I'm not going to make any sales tonight."
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