As I stood up to get more coffee, I said, “You know, I don’t have to come here to be insulted. I can go anywhere in this city and be insulted by any number of people.” I looked over at Simon, and he shook his head no, so I just poured coffee for myself and sat back down again. “And, let’s be honest here, Ang, you don’t have the greatest track record in the world when it comes to setting me up.”
“Are you going to bring up Cecelia Johnson again, Jeremy? How long’s it going to take before we put that unfortunate situation behind us? And, anyway, getting back to Laura, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. You two would be good together.”
“Why me?”
“Because, you idiot, even though it pains me to admit it at the moment, next to my husband, you’re the best man I know.”
I looked across the island at Simon and said, “Next to Simon?”
He grinned and said, “She’s known both of us a long time, JB. One would assume she’s in a position to make a valid comparison here.”
Angie came around the island and put her arms around me from the back.
“Jeremy, I asked Laura to come out for a cookout a week from this Saturday. You come, too, and if the two of you hit it off, great. If not, no harm, no foul, okay?”
“Does she know this is a set-up?”
“Uh-huh, she does. I told her I wanted her to meet a friend of mine.”
“How’d she react?”
“About like you did, only with even more emotion.”
“What about after you described my Adonis-like looks and rapier wit?”
“She agreed to come—”
“Ah-hah!”
“But only after I promised to give up my prep next Monday morning and help her kids cut out penguins to put on the wall.”
“Huh?” I said.
“These are five-year-olds, Jeremy. There’s paste involvement.”
“Oh.”
Angie turned me around so that we were facing each other.
“Seriously, Jeremy, Laura’s a great person. Just meet her, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll come over a week from Saturday and meet her. But that’s it, that’s the extent of my commitment here, right? Drop by, say hi, grab a burger, then I’m outta here. Nothing else.”
“Trust me, Jeremy, after you meet Laura, you’re the one who won’t want to go home early.”
I gave Simon an inquisitive look.
“Sorry, JB, can’t help ya. I haven’t met the lady myself yet.”
“Okay,” I said, getting off the stool. “I’ll meet Laura. And I’ll call Rachel when I get home. Anything else?”
“Could you pick us up a quart of milk?” Simon asked. “I noticed we’re almost out.”
I gave him my stare, which had absolutely no effect whatsoever. Maybe it didn’t work on weeknights.
Angie walked me to my car.
“Thanks again, Jeremy, about Rachel.”
“No problem, Ang. I’ll give her a call. It’s probably what you said, she just needs to talk to someone about it.”
“And,” she said, “a week from Saturday, you’ll be thanking me for introducing you to Laura.”
Getting into my car, I told her, “That’ll be the day, Ang. That’ll be the day.”
* * *
When I got home, I called Rachel Pendleton. The phone rang several times before she picked up.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Pendleton?”
“Yes. Who is this, please?”
“This is Jeremy Barnes, Mrs. Pendleton, Angie Ventura’s friend. She said you wanted me to call.”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you for calling, Mr. Barnes. Yes, I would like to speak with you. Would tomorrow be all right? I’m not back at work yet, and even if I were, well, I’m a free-lance writer, so I do most of my work here at home.”
Her voice was flat, no inflection, no emotion.
“I can see you whenever it’s convenient for you, Mrs. Pendleton,” I said.
“How about ten tomorrow morning?”
“That will be fine,” I told her. I realized that I was also speaking in a monotone now. It was as though the fact of her husband’s death was somehow there with us, in the conversation, and to display any sign of life, or even animation, would be somehow disrespectful.
She gave me directions to her house, and we said good-bye and hung up. Quietly.
Chapter 4
The next morning, I got up at seven and went downstairs for juice before starting out on my run. I live in a two-story townhouse in the Shadyside section of Pittsburgh, about five miles from the city’s downtown area. Shadyside’s gone through some changes lately. Up until a few years ago, its small, seven-square-block business district was comprised mostly of privately-owned, boutique-type shops that catered to the yuppies who had taken over the surrounding residential area. There was little in the way of public parking, because most of the people who patronized the stores lived close enough to walk. Then, almost overnight, Shadyside became one of the “in” places to shop, especially around the holidays.
At first, the owners of the various businesses were happy with the increased profits, even if their regular customers complained about the traffic and congestion on the area’s narrow streets and sidewalks. But then the landlords, the folks who owned the buildings that housed all the little shops, began jacking up the rents, figuring that they, too, were entitled to a share of the new revenue streams. The next step was inevitable: many of the landlords were offered relatively huge sums of money by the chain stores, offers that were too good to refuse. Thus, as leases expired, the small shops were forced to relocate or, in some instances, close altogether, and suddenly, Shadyside took on a whole new look, a look that many of the area’s longtime residents hated.
Instead of the cozy little art galleries and card shoppes and ethnic eateries, almost every block now has a Starbucks or a TCBY or a Banana Republic. Word is that a Gap is coming soon, along with a multi-level parking garage. I find I have mixed feelings here. On one hand, the area in which I live
