“That’s a shame,” she said. “I’ve heard realtors put in long hours.”
“Yes, I’ve been buried at work.” I was exaggerating, but I had little desire to see an art show. I tossed the sponge in the sink, which also begged for scrubbing. “And Mondays are one of my busiest days.”
“Let me tell you where we’re going in case you’re able to come. All right?”
“Sure.” I waited without retrieving paper or pen to write down the address.
“It’s at the campus gallery, not too far from the art building.”
“Okay, I know where it is.” In college, I’d often strolled through its rooms looking for inspiration.
“We’ll be looking at a visiting drawing exhibit. According to an article in the newspaper, it’s outstanding.”
“Yes, I recall seeing it.” I hadn’t bothered to read further than the headline.
“So far, everyone I’ve called has jumped at the opportunity to have Henry lead us through it.”
“I’ll see,” I said, then searched for a polite way to change the subject. “How have you and your husband been?” I imagined Emily’s spouse sitting close by waiting for her to get off the phone.
“Dear, my husband has been dead for nearly fourteen years. Do I talk as though he were still alive?”
“I’m so sorry.” I sat on the nearest chair. “I mean, I didn’t realize.”
“No need to apologize. Some days it seems as though he is here. There certainly isn’t a day I don’t miss him. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and feel as though he should be lying next to me. His snoring used to aggravate me no end.” She sounded older, tired. “Now I’d do anything to hear it again.”
As she spoke, I thought of my mother nudging Dad in the side to get him to stop snoring. Mom was five years younger than he, and would probably outlive him. I knew that, like Emily, someday she would wake up alone and reach out to emptiness.
Mom claimed she’d walked in on Dad and Alice. But I chose to believe she’d taken an innocent moment and blown it up to gigantic proportions after years of festering. I thought of my father engrossed in Monday Night Football, his evening paper falling to the floor as he nodded off. He was too old to be fooling around, with his high blood pressure and heart problems.
“Sometimes when I’m folding laundry,” Emily continued, “I wish he’d come walking into the room to carry the basket upstairs for me like he always did.” She laughed, her voice like a feather, light but textured. “That may sound crazy to a young woman, but I spent most of my life with him.”
“What was he like?” I asked, hearing her need to talk.
“Al was my opposite. He was a hard-driving, top-level corporate manager, and I was a stay-at-home mom who didn’t wear makeup or curl her hair. His world and mine were so different, I never did understand what he did all day. But he was a kind man and a good father, and we had a lot of fun. Opposites do attract. Isn’t it strange how those things work out so well? We complemented each other beautifully.”
“He sounds wonderful. I’m sorry you lost him.”
“Oh, we’ll see each other again one day in heaven. I’m counting on that. And you, young lady, I hope we see you Monday.”
After she hung up, I stood for a moment listening to the furnace sigh, then shut off. The house stood empty, like a birdcage after its tenant had flown away. I lifted the receiver and dialed Tim O’Brien’s work number.
“Okay, so it was a dumb movie.” I slipped out of my jacket, draped it over the chair back. “But at least no one got killed, and it had a happy ending.” You’d think I’d be done with boy-gets-girl stories, but I still liked them.
Tim chuckled from across the table. “Next time, I get to pick. Okay?”
Next time? “Sure.” We’d seen a romantic comedy, the kind some men usually don’t tolerate. Yet Tim had gone willingly, saying whatever I liked was fine with him. He’d opened every door—even the car’s—bought the biggest tub of popcorn available, and tempted me afterward with a chocolate torte at a nearby cafe.
I had little doubt most women would appreciate his teddy-bear cuteness and rolling laugh. Dressed in a polo shirt and khaki slacks, he was a square-jawed, clean-cut man who could have modeled for an Eddie Bauer catalog. Susan had raved so much about him that I’d prepared myself for the worst.
His black BMW wasn’t shabby either. I normally didn’t care what a man drove, but a nice car did spell success.
I sliced a ladylike piece of cake. “I shouldn’t be eating this.” I nibbled into it, allowing the dark-chocolate frosting to melt slowly on my tongue.
“You don’t need to worry about your weight.” He plunked a wedge of cheesecake in his mouth. “A few extra calories won’t hurt a bit.”
I patted the corners of my mouth with my napkin, careful not to remove my lipstick. “A few thousand extra, you mean?” I hadn’t flirted for ages and was having a good time being charming. I wore a magenta V-necked sweater and the black slacks that made me look thinner than I really was. His lingering gaze told me he found me attractive. He pushed his plate in my direction and offered me a bite.
“Are you trying to be a bad influence on me?” I asked with an exaggerated look of disapproval.
“Moi? My mother says I’m an angel.”
I hoped upon hope his mother was right. “Hmm.” I reached over, cut a sliver of cheesecake, and tasted it.
“Like it?”
“Yes, everything’s delicious.” I watched his eager eyes sparkle from behind long lashes. There was nothing not to like about him, I decided, even if I didn’t feel a tingling spark of chemistry. Perhaps sizzle
