Sleeping Beauty (14 page)

I walked into the bedroom, hunkered down on the floor with my back against the wall, stretched out my legs and gestured to the boys to keep scrubbing. You know about David. I played dumb.

Not him, the other one. The weird one.

So shes been thinking of him at work. Interesting.

Charley? Ive been talking about him ever since I got involved with the rescue. What, by the way, was going on between the two of you? I could feel the vibrations eight feet away.

Nothing went on. He surprised me, thats all. Im not accustomed to men in pink Mohawks.

Dont worryit will be another color tomorrow. How do you feel about burgundy or chartreuse?

Hes kind of cool in a weird sort of way. Not my type, of course.

Of course. Darlas type wears a business suit, tie and alligator loafers. He dines at all the best restaurants, sees all the best shows and drives only the finest cars. Darla may be fluffy looking in her dizzy blond, blue-eyed sort of way, but shes as savvy as a great white shark when it comes to men. Come to think of it, it is David who is her type.

I cant imagine a woman liking that hair of his. The top of his head looks like the back of a dinosaur or the top of a high-security prison wall.

You are absolutely right, I agreed cheerfully. Who wants to get up close and personal with a pseudo-reptile? One involved in the theater, no less.

Hes not that bad. Darla backtracked. I didnt mean

You are just rattled because you were attracted to him and you didnt expect it, thats all. You harbor a prejudice against pink Mohawks and have a preference for Armani suits. Charley caught you off guard.

Have you ever dated him? Darla asked, her voice unusually tense.

Hardly. It would ruin a perfectly good friendship. And, I added slyly, hes between girlfriends right now.

Dont be ridiculous. Hes not my type.

I dont think Davids my type either but Im still going out for dinner with him.

What is my type I wonder? Im a bungalow-living, animal-loving, sleepwalking clutter-meister whose life is more interesting when shes asleep than when shes awake. How many perfect partners for me can there be in the world?

Relax and live a little, Darla, I advised.

Look whos talking. If you relaxed and lived a little youd be at David Grants clinic right now consulting with a physician instead of being too afraid to try again.

You talk like Im a coward. I felt a flush of indignation fueled by the fact that Darla was right.

At 7:15 I waited outside my house for David to arrive.

Youre lovely tonight, Suze, he said as I slipped into the buttery leather seat of his car. Almost as cute as you looked in thoseWhat was on those pajamas?

Sheep and clouds, thank you very much. I settled in for the ride. Will I ever get to live that down?

Eventually, if you really want to.

I have so much to live down that I probably wont be alive that long.

He chuckled. How are the doppelgängers or do you want to talk about it?

They are home and Im not. Nuf said?

And this night is all for you, David said cryptically.

I was soon to find out what he meant.

As we drove downtown, I silently admired the skyline. I must have been born with either an interior-decorator or peeping Tom gene, because I always look at the high-rises with their penthouse condos and try to imagine what they might look like inside. I conjure up images of sumptuous luxury, great art and lavish parties, the opposite of what my life is like.

When you said you lived downtown, you meant it. I watched the impressive skyline of Minneapolis grow nearer.

I like the city, its energy and culture. I cant say I miss having a lawn to mow and a snow blower in my garage, either.

Like me, you mean?

Dont get me wrong. He smiled at me and the long slashes too-masculine-to-be-dimples creased around his mouth. I think where you live is great. Cozy.

Good. That told him a lot about me without my ever having to say a word.

His place revealed a lot about David to me as well.

Where are we eating? I asked, feeling particularly pampered already as I recalled the menu of tomato soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches Id fixed for the boys.

Its a surprise. Someplace youve never been before.

How can you be sure?

Oh, Im sure. Here we are.

I looked up to gaze at one of the newest luxury high-rises in the city and to my surprise a large door glided open in front of us. David drove down into the bowels of the building that housed the garages. He pulled into a stall, turned off the car and took the key out of the ignition.

I didnt know there was a restaurant here.

There isnt.

Then what are we doing here?

Patience, my dear, patience. He got out of the car and came around to my side to hold the door for me.

We traveled to the thirty-fourth floor of the condo high-rise in an elevator so efficient it barely whispered that it was moving. The apartments were built around an octagonal-shaped room decorated with a large wooden table at its center. A massive floral arrangement filled the table. Chairs and small sofas were carefully placed in the area. Most of my house could have fitted into this particular seating area.

David led me to a nearby door and pulled out his key. This building is only a year or two old but was nearly sold out. I was lucky to get this place. He stepped aside and ushered me inside.

His view was of the skyline of the city to the west and the river to the north. Ive seen photographic cityscapes that didnt capture the magnificence the way Davids picture window did. Dusk was falling, silhouetting the varied architecture against the western sky. Lights began to sparkle in the buildings and cars moved silently below. The sound here, practically in the clouds, was silence.

Very few of the windows had draperies or curtains. If I love cozy and cluttered, then David adores minimalism and stark simplicity. The room was decorated in masculine black and cream with splashes of red punctuating the room. Paper floor lamps and a black lacquer chest gave the room an Asian feel. A wall fountain trickled a tuneless sound and his one nod to frivolity was an incredible fresh floral arrangement in the center of his glass dining-room table.

His coffee table book was of Ansel Adamss black-and-white photography. Even the candy in the leaf-shaped metal dish appeared to have been left by a decorator whod been spirited away only moments before we arrived. This place was perfect. Too perfect.

Do you actually live here? I blurted before remembering to put on my conversational muzzle. It looks like a vignette in a showroom.

David, who was standing in front of his stainless-steel, professional-grade, glass-fronted refrigerator looking at the contents, turned his head toward me. Oh, yes. I think well when things are simple and uncomplicated. Smooth lines lead to smooth thoughts or something like that. Dont you like it?

Whats not to like? I countered, not wanting to admit that the stark elegance of the room intimidated me somewhat. I longed for my basket of yarn and knitting needles and an inviting chair with no sharp angles. But the room was beautiful. How could it be otherwise? Hed spared no expense on anything in it. The room was soso David .

Just as my house was so much an expression of me.

Unfortunately they were two expressions that didnt seem to have a thing in common.

I tried to imagine myself living in this place. The first thing Id do is hang a few picturesnature scenes, probably, and those of my family. I also have quite a photo collection of dogs, cats and other critters Ive known, loved and fostered. And that velvet Elvis that makes me smile. There was Tommy and Terrys art to consider as well. How could one hang that on a see-through refrigerator door?

And the furniture! Not a rocking chair or recliner in sight. No bunny-soft blankets or squishy, hand-embroidered pillows that say Love Is Just a Dog Away or Shhh! The Cat is Sleeping.

I almost felt pity for David. Leather, chrome, wood, steel, original art hung with surgical precision, the surreal and beautiful view of the city skyline, a television larger than the wall of my bathroomHow could a guy live like that?

By the time I turned around, David had put the entire produce section of his refrigerator on the concrete-topped center island. Three kinds of lettuce, an avocado, grape tomatoes, strawberries, cashews, olives, cheese and a half dozen other things spilled out of a huge wooden salad bowl in a display so colorful it might have been a spread in a gourmet cooking magazine.

If you want to start the salad, Ill put some dill on the salmon and frost it. It will take hardly any time at all to bake. The rice is already cooking.

Frost the salmon?

With a little mayonnaise. It keeps it moist. Old Swedish trick.

Are you an old Swede? I picked up the avocado and a surgically sharp knife.

No, but one of my grandmothers was. And a very good cook.

It appears you inherited some of that. This is a very impressive kitchen.

She taught me everything she knew. Especially how to cook fish. Shes also the one who taught me to eat caviar at the age of nine and escargot before the age of eleven.

Yuk.

What do you cook? He looked at me and smiled.

A handsome, intelligent man who can cookcould he get much better than this?

I make a mean peanut butter and jelly. I grill it. And I have a special ingredient in my macaroni and cheese, pure cream in the sauce. Oh, yes, and I have a meat loaf recipe people would give an eyetooth to get. And cookiesgingerbread, molasses, peanut blossoms and a very fine sugar cookie.

A real down-home cook, then.

Im a real down-home kind of girl. As I said it I recognized how true it was. I also realized that I am the antithesis of David.

Do opposites attract? Maybe. Can they live together? I doubt it. This place doesnt even have dust. Mine, on the other hand has a repository for kitty litter, wood shavings, hay, various other kinds of bedding and whatever else an unexpected guest of mine might require.

Its a good thing Ive already decided Im not interested in David Grant. After seeing his home, I would have had to come to that conclusion anyway. Any man not willing to house a ferret on a moments notice is not for me.

David plunged in to help me with the salad and we were done in no time. The timer rang just as both the salmon and the rice were finished. While Id been staring out the window earlier, hed set the table for two with sleek geometric dishes and a contemporary pair of candlesticks.

When I dropped my head to pray over the food, he bowed his head with me. Something, I guessed, that hed learned at his grandmothers table.

You do this so easily and well, I commented. The salmon is to die for.

I have to feed myself. I might as well eat what I like.

Even the food you enjoy is elegant, like your home.

He gave me a puzzled look. What do you mean?

Look at you. You are the GQ man personified, your home is House Beautiful and you move around the kitchen like you learned at the feet of Martha Stewart.

Thanks, but so what? He looked genuinely puzzled as to why any of this mattered.

It says something about you, thats all. Just like the way I live says something about me.

That you are traditional, creative, inviting, homey and like to build a comfortable nest for yourself?

It does? I did a double take. The way he described it, it sounded downright inviting rather than chaotic.

The discussion turned to other, safe and general, things thenthe beauty of the skyline, the plays and movies wed both seen and restaurants at which wed both dined.

A fter dinner, I sat down on the low leather couch and, to my surprise, found it comfortable. I didnt expect anything made completely of right angles to conform to my body, but the buttery leather hugged me like a fine glove.

Uhmm. Nice.

What did you expect? David took the other end of the coach.

It looks more uncomfortable than it feels, thats all.

No squishy pillows and homemade afghans?

I flushed a little. Im a reverse snob, I guess. What draws you to this contemporary look?

Spartan look, you mean? He appeared amused. Lets just say that I have a lot going on in my head and when I get home, I want my gaze to go around the room and not snag on anything cluttered or fussy, thats all. I tend to look at my work as a constant puzzle to solve.

A flicker of some emotion came and went so quickly I barely picked up on it. And?

And sometimes the puzzle is more complicated than others.

How so?

Although I work primarily as an administrator now, I consult with others in the field. Lately Ive had several interesting calls from doctors with clients who have parasomnia disorders, somnambulism, mostly, with occasional night terrors, which can be a troublesome pairing.

Now say it in English. I pulled a cashmere throw, which was artfully arranged on the back of the couch, onto my lap and cuddled into it. Davids eye would just have to snag on the unfolded afghan until he got around to fixing it later.

Some of the sleepwalking cases Ive seen lately have been rather violent.

I swallowed thickly. One thing Id never been was violent. Except for that time my sister found me stomping on invisible cockroaches on the kitchen floor.

Surely if you arent violent when you are awake you wont be aggressive when you are asleep. I almost added, I hope.

Thats not the case. What you do when you are asleep taps into another, more primitive part of yourself. What goes on in your mind when you are asleep is not dependent on your waking thought processes.

I suppose that explains some of my weird activity, I allowed, but Id like to think that who I am and the values I have translate into my sleep state, too. Im counting on not robbing a bank in my sleep because Id never do it while I was awake.

Dont count too hard on that. You dont have much control over your mind when you are asleep. When we are awake, we plan the things we will do. We make conscious decisions. Sleepwalking episodes are different. They are precipitated or triggered by something rather than planned. It happens when a persons decision-making processes are not present.