Next To You (6 page)

He gathered the undamaged food for her. ‘No big deal. We can do it some other time. Unless … unless you’d like to go and grab a bite to eat at the Wellington. Or are you happy to munch on cucumber, carrots and … what the hell’s this?’ He held up an odd-looking vegetable that looked like celery with fuzzy, dark green hairs and a really large white bottom.

‘Fennel.’

‘Is this what it looks like? I’ve never seen a whole one before. Usually it’s all cut up or the seeds are in something, like Italian sausage or Indian food. Do you like Indian food, Caroline? I was just on my way to grab some.’

‘Yes.’
Oh, dear God. Caroline
, she thought,
you just responded to a dinner invitation
.

The last few minutes with Alex had her wound up so tightly she’d sprung out of the fishbowl and answered without thinking. Coffee. Coffee she could handle. A glass of wine was easy, but
dinner
? What was it she’d said to Julie about not hibernating anymore, about making friends and grabbing life by the balls? When someone trying to be a friend had offered help she’d laughed manically. Now a friendly invitation to dinner had her flopping on the gritty footpath, her lips puckering and gaping. She missed the comfortable, professional distance of client and consultant they’d had this afternoon. She was skilled with professional interaction and absolutely terrible with social situations. She turned into two of the Seven Dwarves, Dopey and Bashful, plus a few made up ones like Nervy and Blithery. Her mouth opened and closed …
Balls. Grab his balls, Caroline
.
No, no, Grab
life’s balls,
dummy!

The friendly guy stood, brushed off his trousers, and offered his hand to help her up. ‘How about,’ he said, ‘I go to Raaga and pick us up a tikka masala? It’s a warm night. I think we can eat on my terrace. Sound good?’

Caroline looked at the brawny man standing two feet from her. His hand was huge, but smile was honest, kind. Her mouth opened and closed a few more times before she found the words. ‘Are all the neighbors in the building as friendly as you?’ She took his big hand, and he brought her to her feet.

‘I’ll tell you about the rest of the building while we eat.’

He held her hand so nonchalantly and she stopped gasping for air because, for the first time in over two years, she felt an indisputable warmth come over her, not an embarrassed flame as before, but a rapport that didn’t sag beneath the weight of pleasant, yet superficial congeniality. There was no hint of anxiety in her gut. At all. She genuinely liked William Murphy. ‘I think that would be very nice.’

‘Groovy. I’ll see you back at the ranch in probably twenty minutes.’ His hand slipped from hers. With nod, he headed off.

‘William?’ she called out.

He paused across the street, turning to her. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m a vegetarian. Is that a problem for you?’

‘Not at all. You like hot food? Spicy, I mean.’

‘Medium hot. Um, vegetarian means no chicken or seafood.’

‘Got it. No food with a face for you.’ He started off with a wave.

‘William?’

Will turned again. ‘Yes?’

‘Thank you.’

***

Will ordered spinach dhal, garlic naan, mixed vegetable bhaji, a hot chicken tikka masala, and a palak paneer. As he waited, Will held the pink paper take-out menu at an angle and cocked his head to the left to read the dessert option, but his mind drifted as his eyes passed over gulab jamun and rice pudding. Caroline had left her husband and he wondered why.

Going by Alex’s level of distress it wasn’t hard to see a few reasons. The man was angry, desperate to have her back. He could have been an alcoholic or had a substance abuse problem. Their marital strife could have been wrapped up in an affair. Caroline said something about a private investigator watching her—Will had heard that much of the conversation. Alex could have been a suspicious, jealous husband—or a wife beater. The fact she hadn’t fought back when the man had shoved her made her look like she was accustomed to being pushed, or knocked around by a bully, and wasn’t that part of the cycle of domestic violence?

The manners his mother had drilled into him meant Will would never be so boorish as to ask Caroline about the reasons for their separation. Nor would he ask if she’d had an affair, inquire if her estranged husband had a drug or drinking problem, or if his fists had hammered her on occasion. People offered information about themselves when they were ready, especially when it came to personal marital issues. Clues would reveal themselves as they got to know each other as neighbors.

He couldn’t imagine what it was like for her, or why she’d want to be tangled together with a man possessive and full of rage. Will didn’t understand why a marriage breakup had to be so complicated. When Yvonne left, she took her own things, wanting nothing of his, not even money, regardless of the fact she could have taken a bundle, and he suspected Caroline had done the same, or something similar. Or maybe she hadn’t. There was no way to know without asking.

The one thing evident was that Caroline’s marriage had decomposed like the few autumn leaves that had just started to rot into the soil.

Twenty minutes later, Will arrived home, his arms loaded with spicy, aromatic dishes and two bottles of red wine. As he dug into his pocket for his keys, Caroline opened the door to her apartment.

She crossed the landing, a little sticky-note in her hand. Her hair fell over her eye in that Veronica Lake look. ‘I was about to leave you a note to tell you to come to my place,’ she said, crumpling the square of paper. ‘You were right. It is a warm night. I set the table on my terrace. I hope that’s okay.’

His shrug was casual. ‘I thought it was my gig, you being the incoming new neighbor to welcome, but if you prefer your place, I’m happy with that because I’ll do anything to get out of washing dishes.’

‘Would you like to change?’

‘Well, I’m pretty happy with the man I am.’

She laughed and looked him up and down. He looked morning-fresh in his blue-black suit, but he had loosened his tie. ‘I mean your clothes.’

‘I’m quite comfortable.’

‘You don’t mind getting dog hair all over you?’

‘I
love
dog hair.’

She laughed again. ‘Good, then prepare to meet Batman. He’s a little protective of me, so if he growls or barks at you don’t take it personally. He’s never actually bitten anyone, but he sure puts up a good show.’

‘We became acquainted last Saturday morning. What kind of dog is he?’

‘A Rat Terrier, and he’s on the small side. Come in.’ Caroline blew the hair from her eyes and moved inside.

Will crossed the threshold, handing her the wine and packaged Indian food.

The little dog sat, quite obediently, on a green mat. Batman was the size of a cat mixed with a Jack Russell, only leaner, more streamlined, with longer legs and a higher chest. A black mask covered his brown eyes, but his snout was white. There were patches of tan on either side of his pointy bat-face, and black ears stuck straight up like triangles on his little head. The little guy rolled to his back, offering his tummy for a scratch, his skinny black tail wagging.

Will crouched to pat the dog. ‘See? We’re already good buddies.’

‘Have you been feeding him through the ivy or something?’

‘No, it’s only that dogs are better at judging character than humans are. He’s worked out I’m no threat to his domain, or to you. We’ve been having a bit of a play when he’s come out on the terrace in the morning. That reminds me,’ he said as he scratched Batman under the chin. ‘I ought to give you back the towel you left at my door.’

‘Keep it. It was the least I could do to replace the one he ripped up. You were very nice not to say anything.’

‘It was a rag and I wanted to play with your dog,’ he said, rising, following her and the dog into the kitchen. There were mixing bowls and a green stand-mixer on the countertop. Will wondered if Caroline was the sort of neighbor who baked cookies and shared them with residents in the building. Oh, he hoped so.

He watched her set the food beside the sink and pull cloth napkins from a drawer. ‘I like dogs,’ he said. ‘I’m really glad you’ve got a dog instead of cats. The gentleman who lived here before you had cats, and they used to pee all over my terrace, which is why I planted the ivy over the lattice. It made it harder for them to climb over and tinkle on everything.’

‘Tinkle?’ Snorting, she draped the napkins over her shoulder. ‘Did you say
tinkle
? Cats don’t tinkle, they spray, and I think those cats sprayed everywhere, marking their territory. Batman’s probably peed all over their pee by now.’ She pressed her lips together for a second, as if biting back a grin. ‘Did you ever say anything to your old neighbor about his cats?’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘No. It was just cat pee, it was only on a few occasions, and I really liked John Reginaldi. He was a good neighbor.’

Caroline gazed at the beefy, white-haired man from next door. He was still dressed in the same well-cut, perfectly tailored, blue-black suit, pale blue shirt, and striped tie from this afternoon, and he stood in her kitchen, hands behind his back like he had earlier in the evening. He watched her intently. She scrunched up her mouth.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She busied herself. ‘Well,’ she said, taking two wine glasses from the draining rack in the sink, wiping them dry. ‘I was just wondering,’ she handed him the corkscrew, ‘if Batman’s dog bombs will be a problem.’

Will opened the wine as she served up the food, setting two white plates on a tray along with the naan, a jug of water, and the glasses. ‘I’ll survive.’

‘Please tell me if his barking annoys you, or if his
tinkling
kills your ivy, and I’ll let my uncle know his incontinent cats annoyed you.’ Caroline started to lift the tray.

‘Here you take the wine. I’ll take the tr—John Reginaldi is your uncle?’

‘Yes. I think he stays so sharp because he’s active. He lives for those cats and golf.’

‘Ah.’ Will traveled onto the terrace behind her. ‘So
you’re
Puddin’, the niece he talked about sometimes. I know all about you.’ And he did. He knew her parents died in a car accident, that Reg used to visit her when she was sick in the hospital, and that she left her husband, the man he met today.

And now he knew why she left him.

He set down the tray. ‘Listening to your uncle talk about playing with Ben Hogan in the US Open and Masters at Augusta in the fifties was always fascinating, and the gossip about the old TV stars he met was fun. Sometimes Reg asked me legal questions about tax shelters, car leases, and once he asked me about criminal law, but most of the time, Reg talked about TV, golf, and Puddin’, who should be on
Jeopardy
with her encyclopedic knowledge of films. Reg tells great stories, but I liked the stories about you best, especially the one where you asked what sodomy was in the middle of Christmas dinner.’

‘Did he mention he explained that with a graphic demonstration using the turkey and roasted carrots?’ She chuckled, heartily, with a laugh a happy zing that didn’t hint at the misery her uncle had divulged. Will liked how she laughed; she sounded like Betty Rubble on
The Flintstones
.

‘Reg never mentioned roasted carrots. He told me you had a few unfortunate events in your life, but he also told me he taught you to pick your nose when you were four, that you went for a joyride in your neighbor’s pickup when you were seven, that you wore a wrestler’s costume to your high school prom, and that your mother-in-law was a ball-breaker.’

Wincing, she sucked air through her teeth. ‘Oh, you’re well versed in the ongoing Jones saga and Reginaldi family history. Thanks for not fleeing the room in terror the second you realized criminal acts and mental illness, in one form or another, pervades my entire family. Some of those stories
are
true, but I hope you didn’t believe him when he said he taught James Dean how to golf.’

‘I thought it was Dean Martin.’ He set the tray on the table set with a pink tablecloth, a milk glass citronella lantern, and eating utensils. ‘Now this is very pretty, romantic, like Valentine’s Day.’

Caroline waited for her neck to overheat, for heat to flood her face, for that flopping-fish feeling to return. It had been a mistake to string petite lights on her side of the ivy. They lined the edge of the covered area above the table, ran along the support beams and glowed like tiny white stars, romantic stars. ‘Yeah. Here we are with the wrong kind of mood lighting.’ She made a face and handed him a napkin. ‘Maybe since I thought were asking me out this afternoon, I unconsciously considered this a date.’

‘Well, then I better not disappoint your subconscious and get your chair.’ He pulled out a chair for her.

With a louder than necessary nervous laugh, she sat, and he pushed her closer to the table. ‘Are you flirting with me, William?’ She put a napkin in her lap.

‘Maybe a little. Isn’t that what you do on first dates?’ He removed his jacket, draped it over a chair, sat across from her, and passed her the green palak paneer.

‘I thought you were supposed to remember your manners, you know, not fart or burp, or get spinach in your teeth.’

He spooned reddish-orange tikka masala onto his plate. ‘I’ll discreetly, with my very fine manners, let you know if you have anything in your teeth.’ With a grin, Will got to work eating the Indian food. She ate three pieces of cauliflower, a hunk of paneer, and a spoonful of dhal. He ate everything else.

Batman lay content in a little basket just inside the kitchen, near the open French doors. As they ate, they chatted about food and local restaurants. Before long, the conversation turned to the get-to-know-your-neighbor stuff.

She asked, ‘Do you work downtown, William?’

He poured himself more of wine and refilled her glass. ‘M-hm, in the Collins Building, more or less around the corner from you, a few blocks west.’

‘Do you always drive to work, or do you take public transport?’

‘It depends on the weather. Occasionally I catch the bus, or take the L. Sometimes my boss picks me up or sends a car. Now and then I ride my bike.’