I glanced up to the cracking ceiling. God, I thought. Are you just another man who let me down?
Of course not, because he didn’t even exist. Or did he? Closing my eyes and bowing my head, I whispered, “Okay, I’ll give you one more chance to show yourself.”
My eyes snapped open as the room echoed with emptiness.
The doorbell chimed, and Charlie scrambled to the front hall. I noticed the clock read 7:00, exactly the time Tim said he would arrive. He’d phoned me once a day for almost a week asking to see me. Feeling drained of all stamina, as though I were coming down with a virus that never materialized, I’d put him off. All I’d craved was solitude.
Henry hadn’t called, and I’d convinced myself I didn’t care. I could kick myself for wasting one moment thinking about him. How dim-witted it would be to get involved with another deadbeat artist when someone as nice as Tim liked me.
“I’m coming,” I called, then swept the door open and flashed Tim a smile. Wearing a sports jacket and slacks, he stood for a moment eyeing me as though we barely knew each other. I could see I’d hurt his feelings. How could I have been so thoughtless?
“Come in,” I said, reaching out to take his arm. He stepped inside, but instead of kissing me, he said hello to Charlie, whose ears tipped back.
“It’s good to see you,” I said, and led Tim into the living room. He parked himself on the far end of the couch and crossed his arms. Scooting close enough so our knees almost met, I asked about his last few days. His stony features slowly relaxed, and one arm slid to the back of the couch as he described a recent bank transaction. But when he finally suggested we grab a bite to eat, he made no attempt to help me with my jacket or even open the door for me.
We headed to Ray’s Boathouse Restaurant, and in thirty minutes sat at a table overlooking Shilshole Bay. Below us boats, their white hulls vivid, motored by in the jet-black water as they departed the Ballard Locks on their way into Puget Sound.
With my encouragement, Tim described in detail an important bank transaction with a wealthy Seattle family I knew by name and reputation. As we ate, I conjured up enough questions to supply him with two hours of explanations. By the time we finished our dinners and the check arrived, my eyelids were drooping. He quickly paid the bill so he could take “my sleepy lady home.”
In his car he invited me to his condominium for a cup of coffee. “I’ve been wanting to show you my place. Then I’ll run you right home, I promise.”
“Okay.” I’d wondered where he lived, but I hadn’t wanted to give him the wrong idea by asking to see it.
We crossed town, then cruised over the expansive floating bridge to the East Side. I watched the lights of Kirkland and Bellevue grow brighter and soon saw waterfront homes taking shape. Tim said something, and I glanced over at him. The greenish white beams from the towering lights lining the bridge cast ghostly shadows across his face. He suddenly looked like a stranger.
I clamped my eyes shut for a moment. Now was no time to turn back, I told myself. He’d be furious and never ask me out again. I wouldn’t blame him. We rolled down the exit ramp, then traveled north along the banks of Lake Washington. He deposited the car in his reserved spot, and we rode the elevator up to the third floor.
“Welcome to my hideaway,” he said in a Dracula-like voice. He led me through the spacious living room to the deck, which stretched out over the water. In one corner of the deck stood two chairs and a table with an umbrella. A potted Boston fern in need of a thorough soaking and a dose of fertilizer hunkered in the other corner.
Listening to the rhythmic waves lapping below us, I rested my elbows on the railing and inflated my lungs with moist air. Tim stood behind me, his cheek resting against mine.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s beautiful. You must come out here a lot.”
“Not really, I’m not home much. I’d spend more time here if I had someone like you to keep me company.”
From behind he enveloped me in his arms. I shivered from the chilly breeze seeping through my jacket, and he tightened his hold. Hoping to move indoors, I turned around to find his eager lips waiting for a kiss. I shuddered again, and he rubbed my back.
“Let’s get you warmed up,” he said and reached for my hand. We moved inside; I sank down on the couch as he went into the kitchen. He returned carrying two brandy snifters and a crystal decanter containing tea-colored liquid, then sat next to me.
“May I?” he asked, removing the decanter’s stopper.
“None for me.” I wondered what had happened to his offer of coffee.
He filled his glass, took a sip, then licked his upper lip. Then, sliding his arms around me, he pushed my weight back into the couch’s thick cushions. He kissed me, and I tried to share his affection in a way that would replicate the moment I’d shared with Henry. Those lips had rendered me helpless, but with Tim I felt like a wooden doll.
He pulled back a few inches. “You and I belong together,” he said in my ear. “You’re different from the other women I’ve met. Beautiful but also intelligent and independent.” I could hear his breath becoming staggered. “You could stay here tonight,” he said, his hand moving to my hip.
I stopped him from exploring further. “I think I’d better go,” I said.
“All right, pretty lady.” He wrapped a strand of my hair around his finger. “If you’re
