The office hummed with its usual chatter. Then Mrs. Margaret Hudson, the office manager, walked in with a rather plain-looking young woman.
Ladies, this is Mary. Shell be joining us here, taking over for Christopher. Hes been promoted. I trust youll all get on splendidly, said Mrs. Hudson before stepping out.
Mary took a seat at Christophers old desk, placing a lovely teacup and a small framed photograph of a man on the tabletop. She set to work straightaway, as if shed been there for years.
When the lunch bell rang, as if on cue, everyone rose and headed off for a business lunch, except for Marina, whose curiosity was piqued by the man in the photograph on Marys desk.
From the frame, a handsome man with an enchanting smile and perfectly even teeth looked back at her.
Who might that be? mused Marina. An actor, perhaps, or a singer?
She snapped a quick photo on her mobile and joined the others. As they sat eating together, Marys story gradually unfolded.
We met three years ago, and you simply wouldnt believe the circumstances, Mary began, her colleagues urging her to tell all.
Her memory wandered back three years, to the time shed worked at a sizable London firm. A mix-upeither hers or the logisticiansresulted in the wrong goods being shipped to the company of the man she would one day marry. Mary was sent to resolve the blunder.
Though plain and unassuming, Mary was bright and an excellent negotiator. She never wore makeup and blended into the background, a real grey mouse, as theyd say. But during negotiations, she transformed into a gentle but persistent force, weaving the conversation until she reached her goals.
Her boss, knowing her ways, sent her to handle the matter. At the reception, the secretary told her,
Room 312, Mr. Edward Graham.
Mary entered without knocking and introduced herself.
Im Mary. Some confusion with the logistics; Im terribly sorry.
She explained the mishap. Edward watched in disbeliefhe was sure hed seen her before, in a dream perhaps. Her copper hair shimmered slightly, her green eyes meeting his honestly, her voice steady and even.
Mary was ready for a tough conversation, but Edward suddenly said, No need for a complaint, Mary. I trust this wont happen again.
She thanked him, made her exit, and thought the matter closed. But two days later, Edward waited for her by the main entrance. Mary was the last to leave.
Mary! he called, waving. We spoke two days ago.
Good evening, Edward. I remember, she replied, not flirting, just calm and polite.
I have two tickets to the theatre tonight. My mothers unwell and cant make itwould you join me? he lied.
Which play, Edward?
In two hours. Plenty of time, and I can give you a lift if youd like to get changed.
Crafty, Mary thought, but she agreed.
He waited outside her building. When she appeared in a black, perfectly fitting dress and mid-heeled shoes, he almost didnt recognize her. The transformation was strikingher makeup subtle but suited for the evening. She seemed to know the play well, often quietly pointing out details during the show.
Afterwards, he suggested dinner, but Mary declined politely, citing a challenging meeting the next day. Edward drove her home. By weeks end, he waited for her again, and they went for a walk.
Two months on, as usual, he waited for her after work.
My mother would like to meet youwould that be all right?
Ive hoped to meet her as well, Mary smiled.
Edwards mother welcomed them warmly with tea, crabapple jelly, and apricot tart, and the conversation was easy. Mary told Mrs. Graham about her own grandmothers recipe for crabapple preserves, her father whod died during an experiment, and her mother, a history teacher at the local school.
On the way home, Edward said, Mother really liked you; Im glad.
From then on, they saw each other nearly every day. A year later, they were married.
Mary fell silent, her colleagues listening intently, some secretly envious. Only Marina pondered, What did he see in her, that grey mouse? Shes not much to look at. Why do some people get all the luck? Im attractivelovely legs, nice figureand always its the wrong sort: the pushy types, or married men.
Back in the office, the bell rang, and they all stood up as one to return to their desks. Marina whispered to Sarah,
Look, thats her husband! Do you believe it? I dont. She must be making it up. Would a man like that ever go for her?
That evening, as the staff left, Mary stepped outside and a car horn sounded. Out came the very man from the photograph.
Mary, Im here! he called, waving.
Was it truly her husband? Marina wondered, Why not me? Im prettier.
The women watched them go, each lost in thought.
So often, on seeing such a couple, people ask themselves: What did he see in her? Perhaps he found exactly what he was looking for. Beauty isnt always what men seekthey may flirt with beauties, but marry someone else. Why is that? Perhaps its a question for them to answer.
