MEANWHILE Back At The Office

18 August 2026

2003

R. Linda:

I left Sam, our romantic wounded hero, and moved on to HER, the woman who said, "There was no engagement. There is nothing to discuss." Only said with a Chinese accent. And then, there be me, the man who be told is responsible for this (See Story #2001, Hammocks, Matchmaking, And A Misplaced Diamond, 16th August 2026).

When I saw Ms. Jaio yesterday morning, she looked anything but happy. I've never seen the "glum" side of Ms. Jaio, and I hoped that would end soon. She's all business and doesn't seem like her old self at all. No snide remarks about what Jessica Lee in Fashion is wearing, no criticism of Tony's poor choice of ties or lack of, no nothing. 

So, adventuring in, since I feel like I have nothing to lose, I said to her in passing, "Ms. Jaio, Sam seems kind of—"

"No."

"But I didn't—"

"No."

"I was only going to—"

"I know what you were going to ask."

And THAT was the entire conversation. 

I came to the conclusion that Sam is miserable. Ms. Jaio won't discuss it. Tonya concludes something must be done. No one has told ME how to solve this dilemma, yet they all seem to imply, in manner or words, that I am responsible for fixing it. This is where the trouble begins: I mapped it out in me mind. I need Ms. Jaio's side of the story. Unfortunately, she is not forthcoming. 

I saw her at her desk, looking out the window with her readers on, which told me she wasn't looking out the window; she couldn't see a damn thing. I approached carefully. 

"Ms. Jaio, can I ask you something?"

"No."

"You don't what I'm going to ask."

"Yes, I do."

That stopped me for a minute. But me being me, I decided to carry on anyway. I tried a different route.

"Sam's been kind of quiet. I saw him last night at the town meeting."

"Good."

"He doesn't seem himself."

"I'm sure he'll recover."

"He thinks—"

"Gabe." She looked at me for the first time over her glasses. She meant business.

And that was it. End of conversation. BUT I tried many times today, and she headed me off every single time. She's clever, I tell ya. But you know me, it takes a lot to deter me when I get something in me mind that needs be done. Since me first approach was going nowhere, it was time to invite the two of them somewhere they'd have to meet face-to-face.

I rang up Tonya. I told her the plan I had hatched. 

"Nothing elaborate, I'll be simply inviting both of them somewhere without telling either that the other will be there."

"You didn't do that yet, did you?"

"I thought if they just talked—"

"She specifically said she didn't want to talk about it."

"Right."

"So YOU arranged for them to talk about it."

"Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound like such a good idea."

"It's an approaching disaster, Gabe."

"Too late," I said softly.

Yes, I arranged a meeting. I did that. Desperate measures for desperate times, as they say. I bribed my administrative assistant to talk Ms. Jaio into going with her to the little coffee shop down the street after work.

"Tell her you need some advice."

"On what?"

"Anything. Some girl thing."

"Girl thing?"

"Oh, I don't know. Tell her you are dating a Chinese Art Student at Harvard, and would love to know how to go about that so you don't insult him somehow."

"Insult him? Really, Mr. O'Sullivan."

"No, you know what I mean, like, he is from another country, her country, and you want to make a good impression. Something like that."

"You mean lie."

It took some fast talking, but I got her to do it. Then I waited. She came back and whispered, all set. Then she asked me why she was doing this favour for me. I was counting on her not asking me, and when she didn't at first, I thought I was home free. I decided honesty was the best policy and so I told her why. Her reaction? She laughed. She thought the whole thing was a hoot. She also told me I was going about this all wrong and should leave sleeping dogs lie. Well, I can't do that. 

"Just get her to the coffee shop, and I'll take it from there," I said. She said she would, but I owed her. Of course, I do. I never get anything for free. 

"I want Friday off. This coming." She said.

"Done." 

Once this transaction was complete, I rang up Sam and gave him a song and a dance about the cemetery downtown with all the famous colonial names and GHOSTS. I said I was free early today; if he could get off work and meet me at the designated coffee shop, we could grab a bite and head out. He, of course, hasn't lost interest in this ghoulish business and said enthusiastically, "Yes, I can make it."

"Bloody hell," I said to me self-satisfied self. I was pulling this off. 

So, the time arrived; I was there ahead of everyone. Shortly after, Ms. Jaio and me assistant arrived. I acknowledged them like it was no big deal and went about stirring me cup of joe. Then right on time, Sam walked in. The first thing he saw was Ms. Jaio. I braced meself; was he going to walk out? Would she see him before he did? 

And? Nothing happened! Ms. Jaio said hello, Sam said hello. They behaved like two perfectly civilised adults. Me assistant slipped over to me table and asked me, "How's it going?" 

I couldn't hear what the two setups discussed; it looked like something utterly mundane. Maybe the weather, food, something that needs fixing? I was completely baffled. I was expecting Gone With The Wind. Instead, I get two people discussing whether it's going to rain. In hindsight, I think that's exactly what Sam needs—not a reconciliation, not an explanation, just proof life continues. Or, maybe that's what I needed.

My assistant had slipped out with my blessing. Ms. Jaio left after her conversation, but not without a glance at me and a mouthed "thank you," and I cautiously approached Sam. 

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"How do you feel"

"Fine."

"So you're over it?"

Sam looked at me.

"I didn't say that." Then after a pause, "Did she ask about me before she came?"

"No," I said.

Sam suddenly became depressed again. This threw me. Now I felt terrible that I had set him up, but not enough not to lie.

"She might've," I said, as if remembering something.

To this, Sam perked up. 

"You think so?"

For once I knew enough to keep me mouth shut. 

Gabe

Copyright © 2026 All rights reserved 

The Sam Side Of The Story

17 August 2026

2002

R. Linda:

Sam, Sam, Sammy boyo! The man is determined to make an art out of being depressed, BUT, and this is a big BUT - he's doing it with dignity! I saw him last night; I made up some birdbrained excuse to discuss a ghost in a cemetery I heard about (I didn't really), and I knew that would get his attention. SO, I was expecting to wind the conversation around to Saturday night's fiasco, and was ready to hear about how Sam's heart was broken, but no, that announcement didn't come. Instead, he acted like a man who suffered one of history's great romantic tragedies, while insisting nothing was wrong. 

He told me we should go to the Community Centre (the Congregational Church) because there was a meeting on "The Pit" (you remember the hullabaloo over mineral digging, same subject, new venue), and maybe we should just go. I figured, well, it was his way of getting his mind off Ms. Jaio, so OK.

When we got there, I went for refreshments; he didn't want any. I was mingling with me neighbours, but I did notice the usually talkative Sam was sitting alone. He was sighing for no apparent reason, but I suspected it was over that Chinese ex-intern of mine.

After a while, I bit the bullet and went back to Sam, who by this time was talking to single-guy Jeffrey Longworth. As I walked over, I was surprised to hear that suddenly Sammy had developed opinions about marriage, women, fate, and the unreliability of human communication. 

Jeffrey had been headshaking as if in agreement, but as soon as I joined them, he took me arrival as his chance to get away, and he did! 

I asked Sam what was wrong because he looked down in the mouth.

"Nothing."

Five minutes later, Sam said, "Gabe, you ever notice how a man can be engaged one day and completely unengaged the next without actually doing anything?"

I was gobsmacked but acted serious. In the back of me mind I be thinking, Sam needs cheering up. I wasn't sure how to proceed and made a mistake by mentioning Ms. Jaio.

"I'd rather not talk about her." He said.

"Okay."

There was a pause, and then he asked me, "Did she say anything?"

"You said you didn't want to talk about her."

"I don't," he sighed, "I just asked if she said anything."

UGH! I understood then that Sam was all at the same time, miserable, proud, curious, hopeful, and completely unwilling to admit any of those things. I was saved by the meeting being called to order. 

Tonya had arrived for that meeting, which I knew she was attending, but when she had asked me if I was going, I told her I'd be commiserating with Sam. She raised an eyebrow at me and a head nod at Sam. I smiled brightly like, "Yes, we are here."

During a break in the 'action' (it was a very heated discussion), I had a moment with Tonya.

"Since YOU are responsible for introducing them, why don't YOU fix it? I can see Sam is sad."

"Well . . . yes, I did introduce them." I reluctantly admitted.

"So can't you introduce them again?"

"They already know each other, Tonya."

"Well, it worked the first time."

"Since when do introductions come with a warranty?"

After the meeting, stragglers stayed to finish up the goody spread that the committee had put out. There was Beth MacAfee, a very pretty single woman who had just moved here. I'd seen her a few times, but Sam had never seen her. I heard him ask Jeffrey, "Who's that attractive woman over there?" I stood with me mouth gaping open as Sam made a beeline for Beth. He introduced himself, and gone was the romance is dead attitude; he was very distracted by the town newbie. 

Tonya floated on by me and said under her breath, "Sam in recovery."

For five minutes, Sam was completely himself. I couldn't help but notice after the doldrums I had been subjected to. I said, "You're feeling better."

"About what?" He said, eating a piece of CAKE.

"Ms. Jaio."

Sam immediately became melancholy again. He realised what he was eating and put it down unfinished.

"I told you I don't want to talk about that."

I realised I accidentally reminded him of his heartache. 

I drove him home, and he invited me in. He seemed to really want my company, so I went in. Sam got us both whiskies, but he was quiet, something very out of character for him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You look terrible."

"Thank you."

I knew, with that retort, that something was definitely wrong. And that something was Ms. Jaio. So, I kept probing until Sam gave me enough information that me brain kicked in with an idea, a deadly one, but at the time, it seemed like a good one.

"Some things aren't meant to be, Gabe."

"What things?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

"Women things."

I understood that, or thought I did. That's when Sam's dog, Bowser, wanted out. I didn't offer to go with him; I thought to give Sam some alone time to clear his head. So I rang up Tonya. I was curious to know what she thought because I had introduced the two ex-lovebirds, and how she thought I possessed some mysterious authority over the relationship, or lack thereof.

I reported Sam's condition to her and Ms Jaio's refusal to talk when I rang her earlier that day.

"What are you going to do?" Tonya asked me.

"About what?"

"Sam and Ms. Jaio."

"What am I going to do?"

"You introduced them." She pointed out needlessly.

"That's a lovely leap of logic, Tonya. Let me say that introducing two adults does not make one responsible for whatever subsequently happens between them."

"I'm not convinced. You got them into this."

"I introduced them, Tonya. I didn't get them into anything."

"Well, somebody did."

Silence on me end. Then she said, "The best thing you can do is leave Sam alone."

But I didn't hear that; I heard Sam needs cheering up and the idea in the back of me mind was starting to take form. And how better to do that than give him romantic advice? Yes, indeed, that's the thing. But I found out quite quickly that Sam, despite the current evidence, considers himself vastly more knowledgeable about women than ME!

When he came back, I started this low-key (at least to me) conversation on the subject. HE just stared at me! Finally, he said something.

"Gabe, how many women have you been engaged to?"

"One, me wife."

"And it stuck. I don't see how you're qualified to advise me."

"You weren't engaged; that was an accident that happened, sort of."

SILENCE.

I realised I made a major tactical error. Then he said: "I know you were engaged. That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

He didn't answer. I was convinced that despite everything I'd been told, there was one simple solution: Sam and Ms. Jaio needed to talk. I know everyone thinks that's a terrible idea, but I got it into me head to arrange an accidental meeting. Yes, I know, I know, I can hear you saying, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I TOLD YOU NOT TO GET BACK IN THE MATCHMAKING BUSINESS, AND I EMPHASIZED NOT TO GET BACK IN THE MATCHMAKING BUSINESS; IT NEVER ENDS WELL FOR YOU!"

I would simply invite both of them somewhere without telling either that the other will be there. 

Gabe

Copyright © 2026 All rights reserved

Hammocks, Matchmaking, and a Misplaced Diamond

16 August 2026

2001

R. Linda:

As I get to know Sam, I feel bad about me first impression of him. He is nothing like I thought. Well, let me correct that: he's a little bit like what I thought. Anyway, we have quite a bit in common, like telling exaggerated stories, investigating anything bizarre, and appreciating a quiet camaraderie when needed. Yes, Sam be a hammock guy just like this guy!

I found this out when I dropped off a borrowed stud finder at his abode. He told me he'd be around back, so just come there. I did, thinking to find him hard at work mowing his lawn or something like that, but no, no, there he was stretched out in his hammock sipping a coconut water. 

I had to stop in me tracks; I did, What-ho! Sam in a hammock, like moi? Instead of doing yard chores, he found time to laze about like ME? Well, this led to a conversation about hammocks, iced tea vs coconut water, getting out of yardwork, and similar ills we seem to share.

A few days later, he stopped by me abode and found me, just like him, in me hammy, sipping on an Arnold Palmer, letting the grass grow high. 

Next to me hammy is another one that I got for Tonya, who has yet to lie in it. She's too busy in the garden, she says, so I invited me new bestest bud to try it out. I poured him an Arnie, and we both sighed, satisfied with our little worlds, and swung gently in the breeze, both of us lulled into naptime. That's how the wife found us. It must have been her shadow blotting out the sunlight that awakened us. 

She wore her garden gloves and her sunhat. An arm around a flower pot and the other wiping sweat off her forehead. 

"Uh . . . yes?" I said, acknowledging her presence; how could I not?

"I hate to disturb what looks like my kindergarten naptime, but YOU, mister, have got to get this lawn mown today before your mother starts on the snakes in the tall grass thing that gets quite a bit annoying."

Then she looked down at Sam and smiled,

"Hi Sam, how are you?" Said she, like he mattered and I was chopped liver.

He got up, said his pleasantries back, and offered to take the blame for me inactivity, but she knew better. He left after that.

"Well, sorry if I chased your little friend away, but the grass?" She said with one hand on her hip, which is a sign she means business NOW!

"Tsk, okay, I will get to it, but did you have to be scary and run off me new best bud?"

"Oh, pull-ese." She said, leaving me to it. Then she threw over her shoulder, "You know, you were both lucky I didn't start that mower underneath you."

And why didn't she? I wouldn't put it past her. Probably didn't think about that until after. 

So, after I finished the lawn, I did some matchmaking. I know, I know, I promised never to do that again, but in this case, I just couldn't help meself. I got the idea for this from listening to Sam and Ms Jaio tell me how much their love life sucks. She is always complaining about Maureen at work and how she's always setting up Patrick to date her single sister, Rose. I am guilty of not keeping you across on all this, I know, but hashing it out is exhausting. Anyway, Ms. Jaio expressed an interest in getting Maureen to help HER find someone, just not Patrick. 

"Sum ting always goes wrong for me." She had said when it came to dating.

This has got on me last nerve, it has. I seriously started looking around the office for someone to sic on Ms. Jaio to keep her busy and keep me ears from listening to the stories of non-dating woe she spews to me daily.

Before our naptime, as Tonya calls it, Sam told me the dating pool in town was sparse. He has one lady who just loves him, but he can't abide her for more than two minutes at a time. So, here it is: I like Sam; he isn't married, said he's not met the "right one" yet, and he assumes he will die a bachelor. When he said this, Ms. Jaio's image popped into me head and well . . .

I introduced the potential love birds. And they hit it off, I'm pleased to say. SHE said, "He's not verr good luckin' but afta that Patric fiasco I'm glad." 

"He's a nice guy," I said. "Looks don't mean everything."

"I know he is. I jus mean that's a plus."

As for him, he was intrigued because he thinks Ms. Jaio is the most interesting woman he's met, ever. Things have been going well; he does have a small problem: she's in Boston, so it's a drive. They don't go out but on Saturdays because of that, and he sleeps in his hammock most of Sunday to recover. 

As for Ms. Jaio, she's very cheery and talks Sam all the time. It's Sam this, and Sam that, and well, at first I was thrilled, but now it's getting old. Sam has attained superhero status, and I was starting to get nervous about what I did. I actually looked in the mirror and said to meself, "WHAT DID YOU DO? ARE YOU CRAZY? What if those two get married and then you have BOTH of them closer to you than before? You can't get away. I know Sam is okay, but can you really, really take more of Ms Jaio? Because, GABRIEL, she's going to be in your life 24/7. At least during the day, Sam can get away from her, but not you, Mr. O'Sullivan. You will see her outside work and at work. Your smile will be a permanent frozen feature on your face FOREVER!"

However, all that self-recrimination wasn't necessary. And, I'll tell you why.

This last Saturday, Sam made reservations at some Boston bistro that his Ms. Jaio likes. He wanted to surprise her with a card that said, "Happy 4th Anniversary," because it would be 4 whole weeks since they started dating. I thought that was a bit premature, but hey, I'm not Sam.

Well, here's the kicker. Everything went well. At dessert, he handed her the card, and she was touched. Very touched. As she gazed into his eyes with adoration, the cake she ordered arrived, and, letting go of his hand across the table, she picked up her fork and took a bite. Then she took another, then a third. When she was marvelling to him how wonderful the cake was, she stopped mid-chew.

He sat there with his fork in midair, staring at her. He knew something was amiss. He watched as she got her napkin to her mouth and spit something out, her eyebrows furrowed in indignation.

"What's wrong?" He whispered across the table.

She held a hand up in wait as she reached into her napkin, which she had placed in her lap. Then all of a sudden (he said), it was like the sun came out. She looked at him with surprise written all over her face.

"What?" He asked, really curious.

"Oh, you," she giggled, tears in her eyes. Then she held up the diamond sparkler, wiping the cake icing away to show him.

He said he sat there gaping at the sparkling ring, wondering where the hell it came from. Was this a prank she was pulling on him? 

"I . . . I . . . " was all he got out.

"YES! I will marry you!" She blurted out.

OH TOO LATE NOW, SAM.

But Sam did notice one thing out of the corner of his eye. Everyone around him and Ms. Jaio were smiling at the 'newly engaged' couple, except one couple. The man at that table was waving for the waiter, and the lovely woman with him looked very jealous of Ms. Jaio. Sam saw the waiter bend down, listening to the gesturing man as he pointed at Ms. Jaio and the ring. 

Suddenly, the man got up from his table and accompanied the waiter to Sam's table. 

"Excuse me," he said to Sam, "Is that your ring?"

"Well," Sam said, clearing his throat and trying not to look at Ms. Jaio, "No, it is not."

"Wha . . . ?" Ms Jaio said, looking at Sam.

"I'm afraid you have the wrong cake." The waiter said to Sam and Ms. Jaio. "That order was for that table. My apologies to both tables."

The almost not engaged man held his hand out to Ms. Jaio, who dropped the ring in his palm. With that, he turned on his heel and went back to his relieved lovely, who was all anticipating a proposal.

An awkward silence fell between Sam and Ms. Jaio as the waiter offered to bring them another piece of cake each, gratis, for the mistake. But that wasn't necessary; they both had lost their appetites, especially Ms. Jaio, who was mortified and Sam, who was embarrassed. 

I haven't seen or heard from Ms. Jaio, but I will see her at work tomorrow. As for Sam, I did see him, I was asked to come over for a chat. I didn't know at the time what it was about. But when I walked into his backyard, I noticed a second hammock and a pitcher of Arnies. I was touched he'd get me a hammock, but now I'm not so sure about that.

I spent two hours commiserating with him over his forced faux engagement. We went through two pitchers of Arnies mixed with rum that Sam had the forethought to have handy. It seems everything fell apart last night after that. SHE had little to say and wouldn't discuss the tragic event at all. He said he'd call her; she said no; she needed to not hear from anyone. 

He's not sure he wants to call her. Married life came too close for comfort last night, and he's rethinking bachelorhood. 

Gabe

Copyright © 2026 All rights reserved