If she weren’t so afraid of Nick, she’d almost like to thank him. For the first time in ten years the pressure to be perfect was off. Her constant grip on control was unnecessary—she was loose in this body without all the trimming and constant upkeep. All she had to do was relax into this modest role and enjoy her own feelings for once. There was such amazing freedom in this.
She was beginning to have relationships, shallow though they might be. Still, it was far more than she had indulged in while she was trying to keep some man interested.
From here she could look back over some of her choices. Being the girlfriend of rich older men had seemed like a safe and practical way to spend some time, but suddenly ten years had flown by. She’d gone from nineteen to thirty in a flash, hardly feeling the passage of time. The only way in which she acknowledged aging at all was with the clear realization that she wouldn’t be young and beautiful forever, and she would have to plan her next career path with no time to spare.
Now it amazed her that she had fooled herself into believing she could be satisfied with that. Catering to someone else’s needs, leaving her own for later, in order to live a material life and avoid the risk of falling in love and having her heart broken? What was that about? Her idea of security was suddenly skewed, for what good were her savings and investments if her life was in danger?
Yet, danger or not, here she was now, a woman alone with simple needs and experiencing entirely new feelings. It verged on happiness. How, she asked herself, had she managed to get to be thirty years old before figuring that out?
While Louise prepared to leave the country, Jennifer went to her house a few times to become familiarized with the place, to get instructions on the upkeep, the bills, the bank, the care of the dog and, most important, the computer. Through that process two things became glaringly obvious. She wondered how Louise, at her age and infirmity, could manage the kind of trip she was undertaking. And second, she realized she would miss her. Jennifer had begun to look forward to her breakfast companion and had come to think of her as a friend, even if they didn’t share any personal information.
“I’m taking my laptop,” Louise said. “So we can e-mail all the time. I will never be far away with that convenience.”
Jennifer’s big brown eyes brightened. “It will be almost like having you here.”
“Better,” she said. “I don’t complain about my joints so much in e-mail.”
Then the day came for Louise to leave. The cab that would take her to the airport pulled up in front of the diner and Jennifer went out to say goodbye. “Alice is at home, moping. She started acting injured and dejected when she saw the suitcases come out two days ago, and now she’s in a full-blown depression. Don’t be too concerned if she picks at her food for a couple of days. It’s her way of letting us know she has strong opinions about being left behind.”
“I’ll brush her and take her to the park.”
“Try to enjoy this respite, Doris. Make a study of it. Keep a journal or something.”
“Sure, Professor. Travel safely.”
“I’ll see you again soon,” Louise said. And Jennifer, without planning to, lunged into the cab and embraced the old woman, shocking her.
“Oh! My!” she exclaimed. And then, recovering from the surprise, she put her arms around Jennifer and patted her back. “You’ll have a good six months. Ignore Alex’s pique and take Rose with a grain of salt.”
Later that day, as she walked to Louise’s little brick house, she strolled down the street at a slow, lazy pace while inside her heart was leaping, and the temptation was strong to break into a run. Right after giving Alice some attention, she was going to take a good, long bath. She’d limited herself to showers at the motel, afraid of what germs might be lurking in the forty-year-old porcelain tub.
She was entering Louise’s house now with a whole new set of senses, as if seeing it for the first time. New sight, new smell, new touch. She stuck the key into the front door, but it was unlocked. That would have to change. As she entered, Alice slowly rose from her pallet by the hearth, but she hung her head and put her ears back as if to say, Do you see this? I’ve been left again.
“Hey, girlfriend. Don’t worry—she’ll be back before you know it.”
Alice lay back down, her snoot flush with the floor between her paws, her pathetic eyes glancing upward.
Jennifer lifted the leash off the hook by the door. “Come on, no pouting. Let’s take a little walk so you can get an attitude adjustment. Then I’ll settle in.”
Alice rose slowly to her feet but still hung her head dejectedly as she went to Jennifer.
“Oh, brother,” Jennifer said to her. “What a drama queen. Come on, let’s go. Enough self-pity.”
It took Alice at least a block to get in the mood, after which she had a rather nice, though brief, twirl around the park. People who obviously knew Louise and Alice greeted them. “Louise gone off to London, has she?” said a man who was walking a terrier. He gave Alice a pat. “I’m Pat from the grocery. Holler if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Doris. From the diner.”
“Welcome aboard.”
There were three others she passed by—each said hello to Alice, to her, and each one seemed to realize that if someone else was walking the dog, Louise must be gone for the summer.
Just a little exercise and fresh air seemed to do wonders for Alice’s mood, but Jennifer was chomping at the bit to get home, home, to get settled. And when they did get back, Alice’s tail was wagging again and she helped herself to some of her food.
“See? I knew you could adopt a positive attitude if you tried.”
The living room embraced Jennifer. The hardwood floor, red brick fireplace, deep sofa and overstuffed chairs with ottomans, worn in just the right places. And books. The wall upon which the hearth stood had built-in shelves on each side, filled with books. She went to the shelf to look at the titles and only then did she notice that the dust on the shelf was thick. She ran her fingertips along the shelf and then examined them.
Louise’s house was cozy, if a little old-fashioned. And though she had been there a couple of times last week to learn the computer, she hadn’t really looked around. The floral sofa and rose-colored chairs were sporting a good bit of dog hair, and now that she thought about it, it was a little on the musty side.
Well, it stood to reason—Louise was eighty. Not only would her eyesight probably be a bit challenged, but she was simply too arthritic for heavy cleaning. Jennifer dug under the kitchen sink and came up with cleaning supplies—dusting rags, scouring powder, glass cleaner. She got busy at once, starting in the living room. There was an old radio on the bookshelf, and as she dusted around it, she turned it on. Frank Sinatra was singing, so she turned the dial—but Frank just kept at it. Apparently the dial was broken, and if she was going to listen to that radio, she was going to hear that kind of music.
She’d rather it was winter, with some cold weather, so she could light the fire and the lamp, grab a book and a soda and never leave. This place felt like a nest for the restless bird. Instead, she opened some windows to clear out the musty smell. She found the vacuum cleaner in the second bedroom closet, and fortunately there were new bags on the shelf.
From just inside the front door, the dining room was to the left, living room to the right, the screened-in porch through the french doors straight ahead. Louise had had the kitchen remodeled, making it the most modern room in the house. And it was