“Oh, these are nice.” Now he bent to herscrapbook, flipping pages: a sketch she’d started of Mr. Griffin, the dark-hairedwoman of days ago, the young blonde, two children playing Liddy had sketchedyesterday in Riverside Park.
“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing to theyoung blonde.
“Just someone I saw.”
“Where?”
“In the neighborhood.”
“Pretty, looks familiar.” Besides sailing whenhe got himself away from work, Carl’s other hobby was women. They couldn’t keeptrack of his girlfriends.
Peripherally, Liddy saw him straighten andlook again to Paul and Mr. Griffin. “Going to buy that telescope too?”
“Yes, Paul likes it. Go check it out.”
Carl moved away, tall and well built in hispreppy chinos and blue polo shirt, running a hand through his dark hair as he bentto the ‘scope and looked in. Spent maybe two minutes engrossed in the views of windowsacross the street until Paul turned and introduced him to Charlie’s executor.
They were both from Connecticut and hadbeen friends for years, Paul and Carl…which was only a bit unusual because Carlhad been a rich kid from wealthy Greenwich, and Paul had been his boat boy. Scrubbedthe hull, bartended his parties, cleaned his messes, even drove his drunkgirlfriends home. Through family pull Carl got Paul a great scholarship, andPaul still felt indebted to him. Paul was now forty; Carl was forty-one, andhad grown some surprise hang-ups in the intervening years. His father had losthis money in investments; Carl wasn’t rich anymore and had lost his boat. Paulinherited his boat – his smaller boat - from his father, and theyresumed their best buds bond of sailing. It was actually Carl who’d had theidea for the research they were doing, and snagged the grant – again, throughfamily pull - and brought Paul in figuring two working feverishly could win therace to Big Pharma. Carl was still mad at his banker cousins who’d scoffed whenhe opted for med school instead of finance. He was going to win bigger than them,oh yes – he was driven - and he’d done Paul another huge life favor with this researchthing. He could have asked someone else.
“I owe Carl everything.” Liddy hated hearing Paul say that. He was brilliant too. He couldhave done okay on his own…
So forget them and their B.S., she thought,peering around, feeling her happy quotient rise, and then rise more. Wow, this wasreally happening.
She got herself up, aching only a little, appraisingthe emptiness and imagining the antique furniture they’d crowded into their oldapartment moved to there and there - and those gouges inthe wall - ugh, she thought, moving to one of them, reaching up to touch it. Constructionpeople would be coming to fix it, also finish tearing down the interior wall poorCharlie Bass had taken a sledge hammer to. They’d restore the flooring and thenpainters would come and patch, spackle, prime and paint while Con Ed came too,and upholstery people to pick up the couch, ottoman and two other items…
“Lids?”
Uh-huh.
How well she knew Paul’s regretful tone. Sheturned, knowing what was coming and went to them: to Paul looking sorry and Carlalready eyeing the door and Mr. Griffin half turned away pushing papers backinto his briefcase.
“Ah…” Paul started to say, and because she felthappy and he looked so guilty she waved a hand as if nothing.
“Let me guess,” Liddy said. “Work’s fallenbehind and you really should leave now and may have to work late tonight.”
“Well it is a week day,” Carl saidwith a quick smile. He had quick eyes, too; quick and blue.
“I understand,” she smiled, to Paul’s clearrelief. They had planned dinner out tonight, to celebrate their first day ofowning the place and starting the refurbishing.
Paul spread his hands as if to say, Whatcan I do? Carl smirked and dude-punched Paul’s arm. “Right there,” he said withhis other hand pointing to Liddy, “is why I’m divorced and you’re not. Cassie wouldn’ttolerate my hours and that was that.”
Cassie wouldn’t tolerate…?
What a phony. Like a flash, Liddyremembered trying to help Paul with the rigging, and she was cold, it wasgloomy and windy and she wanted to run below for her sweatshirt but Paul lookedtroubled. “They’re down there.” Carl and his current squeeze were down in theberth having their tryst, on Paul’s boat, so she couldn’t go for her damned sweatshirt.When was that? Last April? No…last fall maybe, there’d been other women since.He’d taken the boat out alone lots too. Said it helped re-charge his batteries.
There was a sudden movement toward thedoor, first saying good-bye and thank you to Mr. Griffin; then, with Carlalready out in the hall, a quick hug from Paul with hurried promises tocelebrate soon.
“Every night once we’re done withthis damned thing,” he said, suddenly more emotional with Carl’s footsteps poundingdown the stairs. “The deadline for that presentation’s in five weeks. It’ll blow‘em away.” He pushed a strand of hair from Liddy’s brow. “Our copyright-sharingwith the U will be assured and we’ll be in clover. Sound good?”
“Heaven.” She smiled and stood back fromhim, not unhappy at all at the thought of coming silence. “At least it’s summerand neither of you have to teach.”
That didn’t cheer Paul. “Yeah, well y’knowhow fast September’s going to be here? There’s that pressure too; get as muchdone before we have to work teaching around it.”
“Go. I’ll be fine and busy here.” Liddyheld up her list of things to do.
“Cab home.”
“Of course.”
“Call me when you get there.”
“Yes, yes.” She hugged him again. “Soon herewill be home, imagine! Everything’s under control.”
8
She closed the door andbreathed a sigh of relief. So much to do… She turned back to the room, and herfeeling changed.
The place seemed suddenly cavernous,echoing with voices and footsteps no longer there. She tried to shake off thefeeling. Went to get Paul’s measuring tape from where he’d left it by thetelescope. Knelt to measure the space between the couch and the wall where theflat
