“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess, James, but the attitude and accent helped. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the kids are here to stay. We’ve long considered Mrs. Russell’s house the neighborhood playground.”
“There’s no swings, no kids, or friendly—or even unfriendly—dogs to draw a crowd.”
“No, but there is a terrific hill.” Waving her arm toward the left of the house, she continued, her voice bright. “It’s not big enough to build up serious speed, obviously, but it’s perfect for turning cartwheels, running down and leaping over the sidewalk and, thanks to the bump at the end, the occasional bike stunt.”
He groaned. “Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen.” Maybe the owners kept insurance on the property. His renter’s insurance covered his personal property only.
“Probably.” She shrugged before turning to him. She opened her mouth wide and pointed to an upper front tooth that jutted out slightly. “See this? I chipped my tooth here one winter trying to jump a sled over two of my friends. That was before Mrs. Russell installed the French drain. She used to get a river of water on the side of the house that turned icy in the winter and was a favorite place—for the boys especially—to have mud fights when it rained. Be glad you don’t have to deal with that. By the way, I never heard of anyone suing over kids being kids around here. That could have changed though.”
“I suppose that’s something to be grateful for. Did you grow up here?”
“I officially moved to town when I was eight so I’m not exactly from here, but I spent a lot of time visiting my grandparents before then. Where are you from?”
“We moved a lot. I lived in Phoenix, Seattle, Miami, and finally New York.”
“I thought I caught a little “New York” in your accent. Do you miss it?”
“Every day.”
“I don’t. It’s a fine place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there on a permanent basis again.”
“You lived there?”
“Twice. The first for eighteen months after college, and the second for five months two years ago.”
New York was a big city, but their paths hadn’t overlapped once during that time. He’d remember her, blue-streaked hair or not.
“I know we just met, but you seem like the artsy type who would enjoy the city. New York’s got great museums and galleries.”
“I’ve worked at some of those museums. They are great and worthy of many visits, but New York City doesn’t have this.” She gestured toward the street. “Look at that sunset, and these gorgeous houses, with their front porches, and the sheer fact that we are sitting outside talking about something of substance rather than the latest restaurant or club opening. Even the fact we’re talking at all. In New York, the only strangers who wanted to talk generally wore all their possessions and smelled of urine or were tourists. I shouldn’t generalize, but there, everyone seemed in such a rush to get to the next thing, that they neglected the here and now and the sunsets.”
As much as he hated to admit it, he could see her point. The sky was a layered cocktail of oranges and purples. Besides, he would have never sat outside like this talking unless dining at an outdoor café. When he chatted with an attractive woman, he met at a bar, the conversations were always the same. ‘What do you do? Where do you live?’ If they clicked, they’d swap texts or go back to one place or the other. Instead of superficial banter, he got a glimpse of the inner Claire, and he liked what he saw. Maybe the rest of his tenure here wouldn’t be so dull after all. “Maybe we overlook stuff in the city because we’re busy living.”
“Maybe. But is racing to catch one subway when another will be by in ten minutes really living?”
“It gets the heart racing, so it feels like living. I’ve been in Belkin only a few weeks, but I miss the excitement, the constant distractions, and most of all, I miss the noise. It’s too quiet, except for when the kids run all over the yard, and then it’s too loud.”
She put her hand to her chest as she laughed, as if trying and failing to keep her mirth to herself. It was undignified and glorious at the same time. “You need a sound machine that plays traffic noises. I have one that plays crickets. And when the kids are having fun, grab your headphones and remind yourself you only have to put up with it for a year. Unless you decide to stay. That’s happened to a couple of other engineers at Adena.”
“How did you know I worked there?” Had she heard of him? Did she work there too? No. She mentioned museums. He would have remembered meeting her. Besides, Jo welcomed her back from somewhere, so she must have been away.
“Because you didn’t grow up here. If you’re a twenty-something—”
“I’m thirty-one.”
“Fine, thirty-something in Belkin and you didn’t grow up here, or marry someone who grew up here, and I see no wife or girlfriend peeking out to spy on you, then only other explanation is that you signed a one- or two-year contract with the power company so you can get experience and demand a higher paycheck somewhere else.”
“So turnover is common, huh? I don’t need to feel guilty about it?” The higher than average numbers for recruitment and contract positions he’d seen on corporate reports collaborated her claims.
“Not at all. Belkin’s a low rent waystation. As you said, it’s not New York. But we have our charms.”
She turned toward the sunset and her bare lips unfurled in mysterious smile. She raised her glass. Her mouth curled against the rim of the glass as she took another sip. She closed her eyes and he could picture his mouth replacing the glass. His time in Belkin would be more interesting if she came around more often. He wondered if that blue streak felt
